The Nocturnus Council sat around the table in the parlour, each of their stares fixed on Draco.
As Dagomir's newly promoted second in command, Ben was present for the meeting, and as one of the most proficient spellcasters among the guard, Boris had been invited as well. The latter had been training intensively every day in an effort to take up the position as their mage.
Temporarily, if all went to plan and they were able to recover Glenneth.
But the absence of a high mage on the council had become increasingly evident.
Dagomir was the one to break the silence, his gaze flitting to the journal on the table before Draco, with a quiet, "What have you learned?"
"Hugo learned," Draco corrected, "how to utilise the affiliation to channel the command using a mental link." As one, the guards sucked in a breath. "Of course, we aren't certain whether it will work."
"It will need to be tested," Hugo broke in, straightening in his seat. He cleared his throat. "Extensively."
Although his lips twisted into a grimace, Dagomir nodded. "I don't see any reason why we won't be able to test it with the Nocturnus that are here. Do you believe this to be what Cosette has been using to retain the stolen loyalty of the rest of the Order?"
"According to what we've learned from Madeline, I believe so." Hugo offered a nod although Draco could see a thin sheen of sweat on his temples.
It was a high stakes game they sought to play. And if one thing went wrong, it could all prove disastrous.
Draco clenched his jaw, attempting to stem his own nerves at the thought. He tapped his fingers along the surface of the table, magic unfurling within his veins and building against his palms. Ever since the breakthrough he and Hermione had experienced several nights prior, the magic of the affiliation had strengthened to the point where he sometimes didn't know what to do with it all.
Hermione had taken to expending magical energy on small tasks just to keep herself functional.
He frowned at the thought of the power Elias and Cosette possessed—the split remnants of his prior affiliation. Draco doubted either of them could touch the level of power that now appeared to flow between him and Hermione.
Hugo shifted awkwardly at Draco's left with an uneasy flash of white teeth. "Would you mind not doing that?"
Snapping his attention back to the meeting at hand, Draco looked up. Clouds of magic seeped from his hands where they rested on the table; the council wore varying expressions of awe and discomfort.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and with a twist of his wrist, reined in the magic that had broken free of its own accord. The wisps that lingered dispersed into the air. With a wince he said, "Sorry."
Hermione broke the tension, flipping the pages of the journal before them. "Our consideration is that Draco will be able to activate the mental link as Cosette has done, only that he'll be able to overpower her as the true leader of the Nocturnus Order. Cosette is just…" she wafted an idle hand, contemplating. "Well we don't really know, do we? It doesn't even make sense, really."
"Cosette is a thief," Dagomir ground out, the venom in his voice settling with a chill in Draco's spine.
"This is a gamble," Ben said, dragging a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "How do we know this won't simply alert all of Nocturnus to the fact that the Lunae Ortus is still alive and in possession of the affiliation again?"
Hermione clipped, "We don't."
As if feeling the gravity of the statement, the table fell silent.
"And presuming our tests are viable and this actually has a shot at working—when will we seek to reclaim the stolen allegiances?" Dagomir asked, as if intent on learning everything before weighing in. "Obviously the Lunae Ortus will need to go to the Nocturnus castle in order to have the best shot at reaching everyone."
"Madeline hears Cosette from here," Hugo pointed out, scratching at his stubble, "although we don't know for certain whether she hasn't missed messages. At any rate, I think you're right."
Drumming his fingertips on the table again, feeling nerves escalate within him, Draco faced the council. "Hear me out. I have an idea, but it's crazy."
Every set of eyes swivelled towards him.
Draco stood from his seat, tapping the map of the Nocturnus castle. A large red X had been drawn over the location where Cynthia claimed Avance was keeping Glenneth.
"We mean to break in and recover Glenneth; Hermione will go with Ben and Cynthia," Draco said quietly, holding Dagomir's stare.
"While running a decoy to draw Avance's attention away," Dagomir added, his expression faltering as he read something in Draco's face. It was the plan they'd been preparing for.
Draco blew out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. His magic strained to break free once more and he clenched his hands into fists. "What if it wasn't a decoy?"
He snapped his eyes open to see the blood drained from Dagomir's face beneath his beard.
"What are you suggesting, Lunae?" Ben asked, sweeping a hand through his hair. "If not a decoy?"
Drawing out a line across the map, towards the opposite corner, Draco tapped his finger. Another X appeared. He debated once more the plan he, Hermione, and Hugo had come up with, wondering how insane they had to be to suggest something so incredibly daft.
Quietly, he said, "A full on two-pronged assault."
The guards sat in silence, sharing a brief glance between the three of them that spoke volumes. Then Dagomir rose, pacing towards the fireplace before turning back. He shook his head. "This is madness. We don't have the numbers—"
"Not yet," Hermione breathed at Draco's side. She squeezed his hand in hers. "Which is why Draco will need to use the command to draw the allegiances of Nocturnus back to Nocturnus."
Draco watched the moment the idea clicked in the back of Dagomir's mind. The man looked as if he might lose his stomach.
"If everything goes according to plan," Hermione said, standing from her seat and tapping the two marked spots on the map. "Each side will work in tandem as a potential decoy for the other. Recovered allegiances—recovered mage."
"And before Avance knows what's happening, they're on the wrong side of a severe disadvantage." Draco swallowed the thick lump in his throat.
The entire table stood now, quiet discussion breaking out.
Draco watched steely determination flash through Dagomir's face as he spoke with Hugo; Boris and Ben leaned over the map, tapping out additional locations.
Magic roiled within his entire being, pulsing with the throb of his heart in his chest.
It would be their final stand.
At last Dagomir stepped forward, resignation on his face as he shook his head. He met Draco's stare across the table as he leaned in, planting his palms to the wooden surface.
"If this is what we're doing," he said quietly, the room stilling, "we're going to do it right. Let's get to work."
Draco felt a slow smirk curl his lips.
The past week had been a complete blur.
Hermione could hardly count the days as they slipped past, one flowing into the next like the magic roaring in her veins. Seeking its release and retribution against those who had so greatly wronged them.
As it turned out, accessing the command was more work than they'd initially suspected, but as with everything else, Draco eventually learned control. First verbally, and then little by little, he began to access the mental link.
Harnessing the Lunae command required a great deal of intention—more than they'd seen in anything else so far—especially since they didn't want to alert any of the Nocturnus at the castle until they were ready.
And if Draco wasn't cautious, he could accidentally project a message beyond the wards of the villa.
Each day, the council and guards would practice, testing Draco's magical capabilities until he was spent, collapsing at Hermione's side each night.
Then they began to bring in others. Harry and Daphne, Theo and Blaise.
With each test, they began to learn more; distance, intensity, clarity.
And despite the drain to his magic and mental state, day in and day out, Draco hadn't complained once.
Hermione hadn't dared suggest anything, either. Not even when she began to feel the strain in her own magic core. Whatever they had accessed that night had linked their magic, as if each of their usage of the affiliation came from the same vast pool of lunar power.
She still wasn't quite accustomed to the feel of Draco's voice infiltrating her mind, but she had seen his mind project once before, the night of the oath taking ceremony.
And despite the fact that she and Draco were equals and he couldn't technically command anything of her, she could still feel the authority in the command.
Could see the impact on Hugo and Dagomir and the guards as they instantly stood on their guard, heads bowed in respect.
Hermione didn't like it—and she liked it even less when Draco told her Lunaes long past, corrupted by the power of the affiliation, had used the command for darker purposes than to challenge their adversaries.
But if it was the only way to regain the loyalties of those who had once sought to protect them, she was willing to go along with whatever it took.
Just that morning, Dagomir and Hugo had Apparated into a nearby town wearing their street clothes and glamours, and Draco had attempted to call out the two of them with the command.
The effort had been a success.
Hermione had seen the glimmer of achievement in his stare, a smile tugging at his lips as she winced under the sudden onslaught of a migraine behind her eyes.
But with each test hope rose among their small but determined group that Draco would be able to draw the Nocturnus back to their side.
With a strengthened army once more—and if Hermione and Cynthia were able to recover Glenneth—they would face a very real and favourable shift in the tides of war.
Aside from the fact that they would still have to face two people who had developed ruthless control of their respective affiliation powers.
Hermione knew Elias and Cosette didn't have what she and Draco had—that extra element that linked their magic and had drawn their affiliation to the surface in bountiful waves—but the affiliation was deadly no matter what.
She felt the subtle tug at her magic and the flicker of pressure in her temples that suggested the invocation of the command, and a smile curled her lips as Draco's voice flitted through her mind moments later.
We have news from the castle. Please assemble in the barracks.
It had become the easiest way for all of them to meet up, especially since the guards—on top of still operating more extensive patrol rotations than ever—had also begun plotting the most effective way onto the castle grounds.
Several guards jogged past as Hermione made an idle path towards the barracks, a smile lingering on her face as they waved. Draco had been practicing with the idea of isolating the mental link to some people and not others, and they'd been sending guards all over the grounds.
But when she arrived at the barracks, the dire expressions of the guards who must have returned from the most recent patrol stifled the spring in her step.
She was one of the last to arrive and took up a spot beside Hugo in the meeting chambers; Draco stood in quiet conversation with Dagomir, a furrow in his brow.
Folding his arms, Ben turned to address the gathered crowd. Without any preamble he announced, "Tressel is dead."
Hermione blinked several times, processing the information before she asked, "How?"
She met Draco's gaze across the circle; she harboured no love for Elias' replacement treasurer who had betrayed them in the end, but the circumstances around his demise could prove important.
Ben released a sigh, conflict in his face. "As per the healers, the official cause of death is a ruptured magical core."
Hermione winced at the mental image.
"He simply didn't get up today," Ben elaborated. "But I can't imagine many worse ways to go."
"This is good news, right?" Draco asked, scratching the stubble on his jaw; Hermione could see the white shimmer to his fingers in the absent movement. "Do we think this is connected to his broken oaths?"
"It must be," Dagomir said. "The punishment is appropriate to the crime. For treason and betrayal of his Lunaes, Tressel has forfeited his life. Many lives were lost by his actions, Nocturnus and Avance alike."
Allowing only a brief sidelong glance towards Hugo, Hermione could see the blood had fully drained from his face, his mouth twisted in a bitter grimace.
"There's a complication." Ben's words fell on the heaviness of Hermione's heart, and with his tone, her hopes sunk further. He measured his words for a moment before speaking again. "According to Cynthia, Elias suspects Glenneth's hand in Tressel's death."
"What?" Hugo snapped, his gaze flashing. "That's absurd; they've got Glenneth magically neutered and caged like little more than a pet. There's no way he would have been able to do something like that."
Hermione murmured, "They're paranoid."
It had been months now since Cosette and Elias had taken hold of the affiliation and begun to harness its power for themselves. The affiliation wasn't easy to control, as both Hermione and Draco had learned. She could easily see how the magic could overtake its caster and embed such a seed. Especially since they'd stolen it in the first place.
"What does this mean?" Draco's quiet words reverberated through the assembled council and guards.
Ben frowned, exchanging a look with Dagomir. "They're moving Glenneth—deep into the bowels of the castle."
Cold dread crept through Hermione, settling in the pit of her stomach. She and Draco had ventured into the old Nocturnus dungeons once; they'd only lingered a few minutes before darting back up the stairs, drawing in great lungfuls of air.
The cells were formed of thick steel imbued with so many ancient enchantments, the sentient magic that contained the prisoners so bitter and spiteful that there would be no way to penetrate the bars. Hermione doubted even the affiliation would be able to break the enchantments. According to Draco the dungeons hadn't been used in centuries; just to exist within them was torture in its own.
She could still remember the chill that had lingered within her for the hours that followed.
"If they take Glenneth into the dungeons there will be no way for us to reach him," Dagomir said, a heavy note of finality in his voice. "Which means we need to act fast or not at all."
"We need Glenneth," Draco said, his jaw a hard line. "How much time do we have?"
"They need to reinforce the wards before they move him down," Ben said with a grimace; Hermione suspected he'd experienced the dungeons himself. "We have two days."
"Two days," she breathed, her heart leaping in her chest. "That isn't enough time. We aren't nearly ready."
"We have two days," Dagomir echoed, his voice soft and resolute. "Beyond that, our plan will be rendered useless. If we can't get Glenneth back on our side, we will need to switch tactics."
Hermione could tell by the downturn to his lips that no one wanted the alternative tactic. If they couldn't save Glenneth they would need to eliminate him; if they could even get to him to do so. Lifting her chin she said, "We have to save him. Two days it is."
Never mind they didn't have any aspect of the plan finalised. They didn't even know the full reach of Draco's command yet. And they had no idea if anything would work out.
After months of carefully gathering information and preparing for an eventual assault, they now found their greatest hand forced.
She saw the despair in Draco's gaze across the room, shuttered out when he blinked. Solidifying the thought, he breathed, "Two days."
Draco's magic had taken up residence in the back of his brain. Each pulse of the affiliation was a cruel, mocking countdown of the time they didn't have.
The plan was sound, and everyone was in agreement. But they didn't have nearly enough time to properly enact it.
Their window of time to get to Glenneth shrank by the minute, and if they couldn't get the mage back on their side, Cosette would simply use him to stifle their magic again. Things would play out as they had at the fortress, only now their adversaries had terrible, ancient magic they wouldn't hesitate to use.
As arranged before, Hermione would take a small group for a stealthy infiltration. They had debated the idea of catching Glenneth while he was being transported, but their margin of error would diminish to zero if they waited until the last possible minute. And seeking out Glenneth while Avance's eyes were already on him would make everything infinitely more complicated.
Inconveniently, Elias' suspicion of Glenneth in the case of Tressel's death had drawn inadvertent attention to the mage as it was.
Draco wondered if Tressel's premature demise had Elias shaking.
Or whether the man's hubris fed his own beliefs that he was untouchable. A cruel smirk crept across his face. Elias had been playing too close to the sun, and Draco would gladly see his wings melt.
His magic danced at the thought.
While Hermione and her group sought to free Glenneth from his magical bonds, Draco would face his biggest test of the command magic by a significant margin. At most, he had tested on a little over one hundred people, guards and inducted friends included.
And now they would face an estimated fifteen to eighteen hundred Nocturnus.
With no room for mistakes or miscalculations. His efforts to reclaim Nocturnus would offer Hermione and Ben the time they needed to get to Glenneth and get out.
The thought still niggled in his mind that the command might not be strong enough to overpower Cosette's control.
But Draco had to choose hope. He had the power and the ability to use it for good. With intention they could do this.
He had to believe.
Draco found Hermione at the top of the rope ladder on the roof of the villa, swirls of magic hovering about her and tracing intricate pictures into the night sky, reminiscent of the constellations above.
A soft frown tugged her lips downwards, her expression distracted as he settled down beside her. Instantly, his magic awoke and reached for hers—the other side to his own coin.
Their magic had developed a sort of complementary existence, a push and pull, and Draco had learned to recognise the hint in his own magic when she did anything significant. And he could always feel the response of her magic in kind whenever he activated the command's mental link.
They sat in silence, Draco allowing his magic to drift free and mingle with hers.
Together they painted a beautiful picture upon the blanket of night above.
At last Hermione blew out a breath and whispered, "We aren't ready for this."
"I know." Draco hummed, planting his hands flat on the sloped roof. He cast her a brief glance. "Are you afraid?"
She swivelled to face him. "Aren't you?"
"Terrified." The word left him as a hoarse breath, his throat dry. Vulnerability swelled within him, settling as a tightness in his chest, but her fingers only curled around his own. She offered a stilted nod, and Draco twisted his hand, giving hers a squeeze. "But we don't have a choice."
Slowly, she shook her head, gazing out onto the grounds. On the other side of the villa, guards still trained outside despite the late hour, the constant bustle in and out of the barracks persistent.
Everything was in place. The plan was to go ahead tomorrow.
"Maybe we're making a mistake," Hermione breathed.
"Maybe."
She huffed, irritation crinkling the skin between her brows, and opened her mouth to say more. But something in Draco's stare must have stayed her tongue because she only sighed.
Time had felt like such a blur ever since the battle in Italy, but months had passed. The fear and trepidation that Draco had felt in the leadup to that confrontation had felt different than the determination that now eclipsed him.
They hadn't had time to enact the full extent of their plan. But the past months hadn't been for naught, and it was with resignation he faced the dawn.
"I'm trying to remind myself we don't have another option," he said carefully, tapping the fingernails of his free hand on the roof. "Because if we miss this chance to get to Glenneth, we won't have another." He sucked in a long breath and blew it out. "And if we don't get to Glenneth, we're as good as dead, whether tomorrow, next month, or next year."
Hermione remained silent, her magic twisting with his own, and Draco felt it in his soul.
No one fully understood the depth of the magic the mage possessed and how it differed from the affiliation, only that the passing of the mage line was an ancient tradition. And Glenneth, somehow, had the power to stifle the affiliation.
Maybe it was even a failsafe of sorts.
"We could spend the next five years monitoring Avance," he breathed at last, "but eventually we need to act. And maybe this is the time to act."
For all they knew, someone could make a mistake and reveal their presence. Cosette and Elias could continue to get stronger. By delaying further, Nocturnus could wind up in a more precarious position than they were already in.
Although she only continued to stare at the sky, she sucked in a shuddering breath. When Draco glanced her way, he could see moisture at the corners of her eyes.
"You were the one who told me to believe," he said, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. "And I'm trying to do my part now."
"Draco," Hermione said, "you've more than done your part." She turned to face him, a sad smile tugging at her lips as tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks. "Look at all you've done."
"We," he corrected absently.
Her shoulders sunk. "What we've done." She waved a hand down towards the guards. "This council has risen again, stronger than before. The people of the Nocturnus Order are driven by something deeper and stronger than they ever had before. They followed their Lunae Ortus because of your heritage, green and untested though you were, but now, Draco…" She shook her head, her eyes shimmering. "They believe in you. They face war because of you."
"No," Draco whispered, her sweet words tugging at his heart strings. "They believe in what Nocturnus is becoming and their role within it. It was a dream, at one point—to see the Order strong and decisive, forging new paths. The Nocturnus Order now isn't like it was, but maybe one day it will be greater than ever."
Hermione drew in another long breath, her expression faltering. "Our dreams aren't over, Draco. We still have a chance to make this right."
He tangled their fingers, managing a steely breath of his own. "Maybe this is how I set aside my fears to face tomorrow. By knowing we've done what we can and we're as prepared as we're able to be. With hope and a belief that we can still see that future one day." He caught her stare, glistening with the moon high above. "This isn't nothing, Hermione. All that we've done—this hasn't been for nothing."
"This is for so much," she murmured. A hint of a smile curled her lips at last. Her hand shone where it held his, magic breaking from her palm and infusing through his skin, settling into his core. "We have so much more than they do."
"We do," Draco agreed, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. "We have loyalty and trust."
"We have hope," she gasped, tears breaking in earnest from her eyes. "And faith."
He held her gaze, forcing down a swallow. "We have love."
She ducked in, capturing his lips in a brief, searing kiss. Draco could feel the moisture from her tears on his own cheeks when she drew away, her stare raw and vulnerable as she gazed at him. Her lips twitched. "Love conquers all, or haven't you heard?"
"Love," Draco snickered, "and some insanely powerful lunar magic."
Her smile widened, breaking into a full grin as it spread into her cheeks. Her magic danced against his own as she blew out a breath, straightening her shoulders. "We've got this."
Draco wasn't certain whether the words were meant to encourage herself or him, but he nodded, allowing a smirk to take his lips. He echoed only, "We've fucking got this."
Author's Note: Hey everyone, thanks so much as always for reading. It's Thanksgiving this weekend here in Canada and I'm so thankful to have people who have enjoyed coming along on this journey with me. I'm so grateful for your support, and your lovely words lift my spirits these days more than I can even say.
Alpha and beta love to Kyonomiko and ravenslight respectively.