Chapter 224: The Fracture

We laughed, the sound flung out to sea like bright pebbles. Below, waves hammered rock ancient, indifferent rhythm. Above, gulls whirled, bearing witness.

It was the last moment of peace.

As Velka and I retraced the cliff path to the palace, dawn burning in our wake, something sharp threaded the air a shift, a tension, as if the world were holding its breath. We reached the lower courtyard just as Mara burst from a side gate, hair tangled, sword belt askew, breathless in a way I hadn’t seen since the siege drills of my earliest days.

“Trouble?” Velka asked, voice gone cold and clipped.

“Worse,” Mara rasped. “The North Gate’s breached. Not bandits. Rebels organized, armed, inside the walls.”

The word “rebels” felt different this time. It didn’t conjure vague discontent, pamphlets, or scone-based protests. It meant violence. It meant all the worst-case scenarios the council whispered over cold tea.

“Where’s my family?” I asked, and my voice was not my own it was someone else’s, someone I had been in another life, someone who knew how to move in disaster.

Mara’s eyes darted. “Your mothers are in the high council chamber with the royal guard. Elira and Riven are rounding up students and staff trying to keep panic from turning into a stampede. The twins were with the court tutor ” Her words cracked, brittle as spun sugar. “We lost them in the confusion. They’re searching the east wing.”

A scream shattered the air high, piercing, childlike. For a second, my mind splintered into fragments: the bridge dream, the salt wind, the taste of plum jam, my sister and brother, Aeris and Arion, waving banners for me in yesterday’s sunlight.

I started to run. Velka matched my pace, shadows slipping from her sleeves, eyes all predator’s focus. Mara led, weaving between courtiers fleeing in all directions fear a contagious magic.

Every corridor was a new battlefield. Tapestries smoldered with wardfire. A suit of enchanted armor staggered by, helmet dented, as if even the castle itself was confused about which side to defend. Out the windows, the city roiled: figures in rebel red and midnight blue poured from side streets, their banners snapping a phoenix devouring a crown.

“System?” I called, half in desperation. Status? Any guidance?

Nothing.

Not static. Not mocking commentary. Just… absence. The system, my secret anchor in every crisis, was gone. No interface, no whispers, not even the faint tingle of magic in my veins. I reached for my Abyssal Requiem felt for the threads of altered reality, the fundamental elements at my command: fire, water, air, darkness, light, void, time, space.

Nothing. The world was flat, unyielding. The abyss did not answer. My mind stuttered, horror crawling up my spine.

Velka noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” I stopped myself. She could never know. No one could. “I can’t feel the magic,” I said instead. “The castle’s wards…they’re dead to me.”

Her mouth thinned. “Not just you. Something’s dampening everything every counterspell slips right through.”

A boom rocked the corridor doors splintered in the east wing. Rebel troops surged in, faces masked, their weapons bright with blood. Elira and Riven appeared at the far end, flanked by Mara’s younger brother and three battered guards. Riven had a cut on his forehead, blood soaking his collar. Elira’s left sleeve was burned away, but her sword was steady.

“Elira!” I called. “The twins ”

“They’re gone,” she hissed, agony barely hidden by fury. “A rebel detachment grabbed them in the nursery and vanished teleport scrolls. We tried” Her breath caught. “I tried.”

Panic wanted to break me, but Velka seized my wrist, steady as stone. “No time for guilt. They took them for leverage. You’re their target, not your mothers. Think. Where would you hold royal hostages if you wanted to force the crown’s hand?”

“The catacombs,” Mara spat, already moving. “Old tunnels under the east wall. The rebels came prepared.”

Another explosion sounded—a wall collapsing in the distance. Velka’s expression was murderous. “You three ” she gestured to Mara, Elira, Riven “help the council hold the chamber. I’ll take Elyzara and ”

“No,” I said, voice low and brittle. “I’m coming. I have to.”

But I could not shape the world. I could not even light a spark.

We descended into the palace’s oldest passageways, torches snuffed by enemy magic, every shadow a potential ambush. My heartbeat was a war drum. Velka led, dagger and will the only magic we had left. My mind spun: system, abyss, anything. Give me a weapon, a trick, even a sarcastic hint. Nothing answered. I was Elyzara, naked of all except memory.

The tunnels were chaos: rebel soldiers herding frightened staff, one tutor knocked out cold. Velka felled two attackers with silent, brutal precision. The way was clear for a moment just long enough to hear voices echoing from the ancient catacomb’s heart.

Aeris was crying. Arion, braver or just more stubborn, was yelling insults at their captors. “Let go! My sister’s coming! She’ll eat you for breakfast! You don’t even deserve her leftovers!” Tears laced his defiance.

My heart nearly stopped.

Velka pulled me back as three masked rebels wheeled, swords drawn. “No closer, princess!” one barked. “One more step and ”

I moved anyway, instinct over caution. “Take me,” I shouted. “Let the twins go. I’m the one you want. I’ll do whatever you demand, just let them go!”

Aeris, eyes wide with terror, called my name. For a moment, the lead rebel hesitated just long enough for Velka to throw a dagger. It whistled through the gloom, striking the guard’s blade, not his throat. He recoiled. Aeris broke free, reaching for me her hand just out of reach.

But a shimmer of null-magic black and crackling, like the void between worlds rose from the ground. It yawned beneath the twins and their captors, swallowing sound, magic, and light. The rebels grinned, triumphant.

Aeris’s scream echoed in the dark as she and Arion vanished. The spell snapped shut, leaving nothing but the smell of burning ozone.

I collapsed to my knees. My hands were empty.

Velka caught me before I hit the stone. “We’ll get them back,” she whispered, fierce and raw. “Whatever it takes. We will.”

I barely heard her. The system was gone, my powers were dead, and my siblings my family were gone, snatched away by a revolution I’d never truly understood.

Somewhere, deep inside, something broke: the knowledge that hope was not enough, not when the world itself closed its doors.

Above us, the first bells of alarm rang out through the shattered palace. This was not a rebellion, not anymore. It was a war.

And I, stripped of miracles and magic, would have to survive it with nothing but love, rage, and the hope that someone, somewhere, was still listening in the dark.