Wouldn't it be nice if the vampires actually did breach the walls? Selis stared up at the fading moonlight as she leaned against the cold stone of the watchtower, her muscles aching and her sword still caked with dried blood.

The thought was ridiculous—treasonous, even—but it danced in her mind like a guilty pleasure. If the bloodsuckers managed to get through, maybe they'd finally reach Emerald.

Maybe then, this godsforsaken war that's lasted for centuries would finally end.

One quick invasion. One sneaky extraction. Boom. Done. Happily ever after, maybe?

She snorted.

"Right. Like Salister's the type to sit down for peace talks over tea and scones after getting what he wants," she muttered under her breath.

The image came unbidden: the cold, lethal vampire lord Salister standing at a dais, Emerald by his side, declaring, "We have her now. War over. Go home, humans."

Yeah, no. More likely: "Thanks for the bloodbath. Now bow down or be turned."

Still, the irony wasn't lost on her. After all this time trying to survive and prove her loyalty, here she was, half-hoping the enemy would win.

Just enough. Just enough to stir things up, to reach the inner layers of the capital—maybe even make the high command panic, make them desperate. And in desperation, maybe . . . they'd loosen their lips.

Because if the vampires reached the third wall, the cathedral would be in chaos. And that was where Selis needed to be.

But fate had a way of kicking her in the teeth just before she got what she wanted.

She sighed and glanced down at the barricades below. Hunters were sleeping in shifts—if you could call clutching a sword and dozing with one eye open sleep.

The younger ones were curled into corners like orphans during a storm, too scared to admit how close death was.

Selis wrapped her coat tighter around her shoulders. Her ribs still throbbed from the last scuffle—a near miss with a vampire's claw that had torn straight through her armor. She'd barely dodged having her lung opened like a wine bottle.

"War's almost poetic," she whispered. "Except for the screaming, blood, starvation, and body rot."

She rubbed her temple, fatigue sinking in again like a parasite. But even now, even with her body crying for rest, her thoughts raced.

Emerald was here. Somewhere within the capital. She could feel it in her gut.

If only someone else would just accidentally get their throat ripped out and let her slip into the cathedral archives while no one was looking. Was that too much to ask?

"Oh, Salister," she mumbled, raising her eyes to the dark forest just beyond the outer wall, "if you're going to crash the gates, do it before the priest finally gets that stupid barrier glowing again. Pretty please?"

Of course, asking a ruthless vampire lord for favors wasn't exactly a reliable strategy.

And even if he did breach the wall . . . even if he took back Emerald . . . what then?

What if Salister didn't stop? What if his next step was wiping the capital off the map?

Selis chewed the inside of her cheek.

She didn't trust the humans in charge. But she didn't exactly trust the vampire prince either.

So maybe hoping the vampires broke through was like hoping a hurricane would blow down her door just to get the cat out from under the couch. Still, it was better than sitting on her hands doing nothing.

If I can't stop the war, she thought, I can at least use it.

She'd find a way to the cathedral. She'd get the answers she needed—about Emerald.

And if she had to flirt her way past guards, fake a holy vision, or sneak in dressed as a choir girl?

So be it.

A slow grin crept onto her face, exhaustion melting into something wicked.

Let the vampires come.

Let the capital burn, just a little.

And then she could slip in the inner cathedral and find what she was looking for.

She forced herself to her feet, scanning the gathered survivors—some asleep, some tending to wounds, some just staring blankly into space.

There were whispers, fragmented conversations—rumors of a vampire general in a crimson cloak, of the capital's barrier weakening from within, of a traitor in their midst.

It was all scattered pieces of a puzzle, and none of them made sense yet.

Selis wanted to move, to seek out the command post, to sneak a glance at any reports that might point her in the right direction.

She even spotted a familiar face from the cathedral's internal order a few meters down the battlement. Someone who might know more, who might slip a hint if she asked the right way.

But her body refused to cooperate.

A deep fatigue had settled into her bones—not just tiredness, but the kind of exhaustion that seeps through the soul.

She had fought all night, barely dodged death half a dozen times, and run on nothing but willpower and adrenaline.

Her stomach ached from hunger, but the moment someone handed her a cold chunk of ration bread and a sliver of salted meat, she devoured it without thinking.

And then, sleep took her.

Not gently. Not with a warm blanket or the comfort of safety. It dragged her under like a wave—sudden, overwhelming, and unstoppable.

She didn't remember falling asleep. One moment she was chewing, the next her head had slumped to her shoulder and her breathing slowed into the deep rhythm of complete shutdown.

The sounds of the camp—soft mutters, distant hammering on the wall, the ever-present hum of ward magic trying to spark back to life—all faded into the background.

Even as her mind kept whispering, You should move… you should ask questions . . . you should be doing something . . .

Her body simply said, No.

And for now, that was the end of it.

Selis was jolted awake by the blaring horn.

It wasn't even evening yet—barely past five—and already, the vampires were clawing at the walls like addicts at a blood bank.

She groaned and dragged herself up from the dirt, her joints popping like firecrackers. Her sword, half-buried in mud beside her, looked just as tired.

Damn it, she thought, squinting at the angry red sky. I swear I just closed my eyes for a minute.