They spent the last day in a whirlwind of minor preparations. Equipment checks. Strategy sessions with officers they'd fight alongside. Briefings from Valerian about dragons' possible behaviors and Nethysara's tactical predilections. Minutes became hours and hours devoured the day.

Kaelin found them in the courtyard as stars emerged through breaking clouds. The Guild leader looked smaller somehow, stripped of the confidence that usually armored her better than steel.

"Twelve dragons in one day." She spoke without preamble. "You know that's insane."

"We've been told." Ember's response came automatically.

"Good. As long as you know." Kaelin's mechanical hand flexed, servos whirring softly. "The Guild's betting pool has you succeeding at three-to-one odds. I put money on you."

"That's touching." Cinder's sarcasm carried less bite than usual.

"It's pragmatic. You're our best asset. Figured I should profit from it." But her hand squeezed Cinder's shoulder, and the gesture said more than words could. "Come back intact. I'd hate to lose that bet."

"We'll do our best."

"Your best killed a dragon. If it holds across twelve engagements, we win." She released Cinder's shoulder. "If it doesn't, well. At least you'll die doing something spectacular."

She walked away before anyone could respond, her mechanical arm catching starlight as she disappeared into the keep.

"She cares," Kindle observed.

"Obviously." Ash's agreement came without mockery. "She's just better at showing it through tactical assessment than emotional vulnerability."

They stood in the courtyard watching soldiers prepare, watching stars wheel overhead, watching the last hours before battle tick away with inexorable patience.

"Eighteen hours as four people." Kindle broke the silence. "That's going to hurt."

"Less than being three." Ash's response held certainty. "We can manage."

"Assuming nothing goes wrong." Cinder's pragmatism never rested.

"When does anything go according to plan?" Pyra's grin felt forced but determined.

"Then we adapt," Ember spoke with more confidence than she felt. "Like we always do."

They'd discussed Nethysara's words in depth over the past days—her logic about suffering and choice, her mathematics that said the coalition would lose. They'd turned the arguments over, examined them from every angle, and reached conclusions that felt solid despite their discomfort.

Even if some servitors genuinely wanted to stay converted, taking away the option to refuse made it slavery. Even if Nethysara's domain offered peace, the peace of captivity remained captivity. Even if fighting meant casualties and horror and moral compromise, the alternative meant accepting that some ancient intelligence knew better than humans what humans needed.

They'd fight. They'd probably see things that haunted them. They'd definitely make choices that felt wrong.

But they'd do it anyway because the alternative meant surrendering not just territory but the principle that people deserved to choose their own struggles.

"We should rest," Ash observed the obvious. "Tomorrow starts early."

Ember stood on the barracks' roof, watching twilight bleed across the sky. Around her, four others did the same. Tomorrow loomed like thunderhead, crackling with promise and threat in equal measure.

Tonight was their last night alone. They needed this—silence and sky and familiar company.

"We can do this." She said it not because she believed it, though she tried, but because her sister-selves needed to hear it. "One last big push."

Kindle's arm settled around her shoulders. "One last big push."

Cinder took Ember's hand. "We got this."

Pyra mirrored Kindle's gesture on the other side. "Team Cursed Chicks for the win."

Ash sighed, though not as wearily as before. "That's a stupid name. Let's just stick with Fragmented Flame."

It was.

The five of them leaned together, their shoulders bumping and heads close. They shared no thought, no emotion, just company beneath a cold sky.

"So..." Pyra said into the stillness. "Who's gonna be the one to integrate first?"

Groans spread down the line.

"Not it," Cinder said after a second, breaking the chain of handholding. "I wanna physically beat up more dragons, not sit in our weird astral headspace."

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"Ugh, not me," said Pyra, "I think my turn is a bit further down the list. My fireballs are too pretty to not be the one throwing them out there. I can't let you guys all have the pyromania fun."

Ember and Kindle groaned as one and looked to Ash with pleading gazes.

Ash sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Fine, I will."

"Not even putting up a fight, huh?" Ember chuckled.

Ash shrugged, a smile threatening to break her unflappable stoicism. "I'm a team player like that. And, well, it makes the most logical sense. Everyone will benefit from my analytical abilities in every iteration of our integrated forms. It's obvious I should go first."

"Ri-ight, obviously," Pyra said, elbowing her. "We get to beat up dragons and you'll be the smart part of our personalities that sits back and helps the others beat up the dragons. Logical."

Ash elbowed her back. "Just so."

Pyra rubbed her side and laughed. "Oh! Speaking of fighting..."

She hurried away, ducking back into the rooftop entrance. A minute later, she came back with something cradled in her hands.

A small crystal, shimmering in the evening starlight.

Ember recognized it instantly. A gift from Khroma, the alien entity they had rescued from the Silent Hand a while back.

"What is that, anyways?" Cinder eyed the thing.

"Khroma's gift," said Pyra, as if she hadn't explained that before. She held it up to the light and smiled. "I think it's some sort of good luck charm, maybe? I dunno. Kinda looks like one of those prisms kids used to play with in grade school, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah," said Kindle. "You plan on lighting it on fire, then? That might not go over well."

"Nah. But we should hold on to it." Pyra pocketed the crystal and nodded decisively. "It's a memento. And, heck. Might actually be good luck. The next few days are going to be the toughest of our lives, aren't they?"

"That's probably not inaccurate," Ash agreed.

"So. For morale." Pyra gestured to each of them. "Anyone else got anything?"

Ember rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a silver ring. "Theron gave me this. It's a divination ring that Senna had made. Said that we should keep it close to remember her... so, I guess that counts as memento and good-luck charm, too." She slipped it on and flexed her fingers.

Pyra smiled at that. "Awesome."

"Um," said Kindle, patting herself. She made an 'aha' sound and tugged at her collar, revealing the top of her brassiere. Stitched onto the fabric was an elaborate floral pattern. "This, I suppose. Not sure if undergarments count, but I am feeling pretty good about this set. Maybe it's good luck, too."

"I mean, if your boobs are involved, it might as well be a good luck charm," said Pyra, snickering. She leered at Kindle's chest. "Those are definitely charms."

"Hilarious." Kindle rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm gonna be wearing my most expensive shoes tomorrow, so, let's hope they bring us good luck," said Cinder. "Or keep my feet comfy at least." She shrugged.

Everyone turned to Ash. She raised her hands in surrender. "Sorry, not exactly sentimental. Besides, I'll be integrated first anyway."

"Nah, that's fine," said Ember.

"We just gotta compensate for you then!" Pyra said.

"What?" Ash looked between the four of them. She backed away, lifting a finger. "Hey, wait. That's not fair..."

They pounced on her and wrapped her in as big and long of a hug as they could.

"D'aww," said Pyra, rubbing Ash's head. "We're gonna make a sappy dork out of you someday, Ash."

Ash groaned and struggled weakly in their embrace, then gave up. "Thanks for your sacrifice."

Dawn broke cold and clear over Ardleby Keep. Perfect visibility stretched to the horizon—both advantage and disadvantage when fighting creatures that ruled the sky.

Thousands of soldiers, hundreds of adventurers, and mages gathered in the courtyard. Equipment checked and rechecked, final briefings complete, assignments clear.

Roderic Thale walked through their ranks, shaking hands and speaking encouragement. Valerian Cross followed in his wake, giving tactical updates to officers and field promotions to deserving lower ranks. Even Lysander Moreth left his tent to mingle with the soldiery, offering reassurances that his soldiers, at least, would succeed.

Whether that was genuine or an attempt to boost confidence mattered less than its effect—Lysander's troops straightened shoulders and spoke of victory in determined voices.

The Fragmented Flame moved among them, their interactions more subdued but no less meaningful. Fist bumps and one-armed hugs, jokes traded, and familiar insults exchanged.

These were people who'd become friends in a few short weeks, and if their smiles were all too brief, well, that only meant the moment demanded brevity.

At the courtyard's center, Thale called them to order. His voice echoed off keep walls as he ran through each force's assignments and reminded them how much depended on this day.

Valerian added final notes about dragons, psychology, and the importance of not panicking if a ward failed under sufficient pressure. It was fine to retreat and reestablish distance. It was fine to disengage and catch a breath. There were twelve battles happening today; they just needed to survive long enough to get support from the rest of the forces or the hero unit.

Corwin repeated a final lecture about the wards and what they did, how they'd hold, and why it was absolutely essential to remember to stay calm, keep the mages safe to refresh their wards, and to trust the plan and each other.

Kaelin took the reins last for a final send-off, a morale boost before battle's chaos and adrenaline robbed the world of words:

"I'm not the type to give fancy speeches," she began without preamble. "Most of you know that by now, and I appreciate you. The truth is, we're up against powerful opponents and long odds." She surveyed the assembled coalition—their eyes hard and hands steady. "But long odds never stopped anyone with a damned good reason to fight."

She let the words settle, then continued. "Your reasons are your own. Defending homes. Protecting family. Seeking glory. Settling grudges. It doesn't matter because they're your reasons." Her mechanical fingers clicked in a fist that shone in the morning sun. "We're going out there to rip victory from the teeth of a damned cold wyrm. No one's given us permission to win. We're taking it. Because that's what adventurers do. That's what heroes do."

She lifted that fist high, the steel gleaming. "Today's the day we prove we deserve every story, every legend, every stupid tavern song." A ripple of laughter. "So, go remind those scaly bastards who we are, and why they should be afraid."

A cheer erupted, ragged but growing. Fists punched the sky. Weapons raised in salute.

Kindle wiped a tear, then sniffled and clapped her hands. "Damn, that's a good speech."

"Better than Thale," Pyra's agreement came in a stage-whisper. "Old man talks like a textbook."

"Kaelin's been leading the Adventurers' Guild for years." Cinder shrugged. "Public speaking gets easier."

"True," said Ember, smiling slightly. She clapped and whistled with everyone, and, eventually, the cheering and shouting died down.

Inevitability sank into everyone as they waited for that last command, the order to march, the beginning of their greatest challenge to date.

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