There was no other way around it.

Sakura, lead general of her kingdom and ruler of the southern realm, swallowed tightly to try and moisten her dry throat as she clutched the leather-bound grimoire.

"Any other way," pleaded Naruto from behind her.

She shook her head.

"Leave. No one pays this price but me," she commanded.

"But—"

"We're running out of time."

"We could reduce our losses if we—"

"The losses have been high enough. They've been too high for too long, and I won't let it go on. Get out, Naruto."

Still her half-brother remained behind her, unwilling to let her face the trial alone.

"You can't bring him back," he added softly, gently, more knowing than she wanted to give him credit for.

"This isn't about bringing back the lost. It's about preserving those lives still with us. No more sacrificing," she said firmly.

"Except for you," he murmured.

Sakura's chin dipped as she took a fortifying breath.

"You are to report to the Nara outpost. Tell him to spread the word: be ready by sundown," she commanded, lifting her eyes to the window high above the stone altar where the afternoon sun waned.

When Naruto still hesitated, she straightened her shoulders and shouted, "That was an order!"

His footsteps, far too quiet for his usual boisterous self, walked away reluctantly. She looked over her shoulder after the door shut behind him to ensure he'd really gone. She was both reassured and disheartened to see he'd done as she asked, for once.

With a wave of her hand the door locked her inside the private conjuring chamber.

The winds rose outside while she uttered the prayers for protection and purity before setting the warm grimoire down upon the silk-draped dais, its scent and whiteness glowing like lily of the valley in a night forest. With a practiced hand she drew out the mortar and pestle of fire-hardened, earthen clay and the bundles of bound roots from her pouch.

Soon the salt ringed her, her herbs anointed her, and her resolve strengthened her as she lay her right hand upon the ancient book whose pages beat with the power and life of her own pulse.

He'd warned her, during the last incantation, that this was not magic to be trifled with.

The price would be heavy, this time.

But she had run out of options.

He was the only one who could save them.

At least, she prayed he could.

No price is too heavy for them.

"Release!"

The energy in the room spiked as the cloying miasma seeped from the pages tearing loose wildly before her.

"Hello, my queen," he purred, his voice deep and haunting as he took his preferred shape around her, that of a tall, broad warrior.

She frowned at him.

He chuckled.

"Hn. This is the third calling," he said, drawing out the words with lustful greed.

"Your price," she demanded, widening her stance instinctively.

"Price is irrelevant now, isn't it?"

"Your pr—"

"What do you want? What do you… need?"

The ball was in his court regardless of what she asked for. They both knew it. He thrived on the power imbalance between them, now. His darker than midnight eyes shone with eagerness.

There was always the chance he would reject her request, of course. Especially considering the circumstances.

But she knew he wouldn't.

He'd never denied her anything.

Unfortunately.

Now was the time to be very careful.

Was she truly willing to do this?

The crown she'd fought so long and hard for?

Startlingly similar inky eyes stared back at her from a sweet, trusting face. Tiny fingers gripped hers as they tried to pull themselves up to stand.

They're worth any price.

"Lend me your army," she ordered, sealing away a part of her heart.

His eyes glittered as his lips parted in a mad grin.

"As my queen demands…"

# # #

TBC?