I fidgeted with my armor backstage and glared at Prime Minister Adair, who gave me a reassuring nod.

"Are you sure this is really necessary?" I asked with a grimace.

"The troops need someone to bolster their spirits," she replied. "They won't listen to me, and your father needs to remain mysterious and ethereal. They need someone real."

I took a deep breath. "But changing my name...what good does that do?"

"The Warriors need to aspire to their leader. In Risan dialect, Alaria means power, strength, and completeness. That's what your people need right now. A name that commands obedience."

"Does it have to be Alaria?"

My final vision flashed inside my mind, relentless. Bragda standing over me, poised with her ax, ready to strike. And she'd called me Alaria.

I wanted nothing to do with that name.

"Captain Alaria von Tollen. Listen to it as it rolls off the tongue. Regal. Powerful. Strong." The Minister's eyes glinted like steel in the torchlight. "The day you decided to go to that tavern, you left Liselle Alta behind. Embrace the new Alaria and revel in your true identity."

"Revel in it?" I scoffed. "I feel like a fraud."

"This is your time to stand up and grasp the reins of power," Minister Adair insisted, closing her hand into a fist. "You are their Captain. We've trained you for weeks. You're ready for this."

"Wouldn't it be better if I stood among them, not above them?"

"Fireborn Warriors must know that they're giving their lives for a cause, something greater than any of their lives." The Minister shrugged. "Warriors can give in to fear, tuck tail, and run."

"Some of this speech is blatant lies!" I hit the parchment with the back of my hand. "I didn't lose my family in the Massacre. I lost them long ago."

"Speeches aren't about giving the facts," the Prime Minister replied. "It's about making people feel strong and secure. It's about giving them an anchor to grasp when they're lost at sea."

"How many of your speeches are filled with lies?"

"Oh, honey." She gave my arm a reassuring pat. "You have no idea."

The Great Hall echoed with the sound of marching Fireborn pouring into the giant amphitheater, reminding me of the first day at university. Back then, the enemy's arrows pierced my naive innocence. Their attack pushed me towards the world of the Fireborn, to this very moment.

Fate told me I could hide as a Risa or take control of my own destiny. I grasped it with both hands. And I never looked back.

I had no regrets.

A tiny part of me was still Risa, though. These past few weeks, I could walk into a lava flow without cringing and march through a river of flame without flinching. I could plunge a sword into the heart of a man and confront a Dragonborn in my dreams without hesitation.

But speaking in front of an audience still made the snakes of fear wriggle in my belly.

"It's now or never," I muttered as the Fireborn yelled and cheered for me.

The Prime Minister nodded. "It's now or never."

"Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, Captain Alaria. You got this."

When I strode onto the obsidian dais, the crowd exploded in thunderous applause. Soon the Fireborn Warriors began to chant, pumping their giant fists or massive broadswords in the air.

"Cap-tain! Cap-tain! Cap-tain!"

Once I stood behind the lectern, they roared. All my anxiety melted away as the blood rushed to my face. Their support and their adoration carried me away on a wave of euphoria.

I pumped my fist into the air, and a deafening roar filled the hall. Thousands of warriors, lined in rows before my eyes, gazed up at me with wonder and awe.

This is power.

For once, I understood how the Fireborn project lured Father from grace.

Raising both of my palms to the crowd, silence fell. My eyes met Peter's, and he beamed with pride. My chest swelled, and I found the courage to speak.

"My Fireborn comrades!" I began, interrupted by a cacophony of cheers and shouts until I raised my hands once again. "We stand on the precipice of battle. The Horn of War cries out to us, and we shall heed Her call."

"Heed! Heed! Heed!" the Fireborn chanted in unison.

With a single hand gesture, they fell silent. "Some experiences change your life forever. My family perished in the Firestorm of Halden, the single most vicious terrorist attack of the millennium."

A chorus of boos and hisses swept through the audience like a tidal wave.

"I'll never forget the putrid stench of burning hair and flesh. I'll never forget the screams as our people ran towards the shelters. I'll never forget how the firestorm raged across the horizon like a red river of ruin."

The cries and shouts of my people ripped through my heart. That sliver of my Risan soul could feel every tremor of fear melting away. Every sting of anger. Every swell of fiery rage. Our hearts beat as one.

One army. One nation. One people.

One heart, crying out for revenge.

"The Raiders pillaged our broken homes until nothing remained." I paused, allowing my words to sink in. "They assaulted and killed any Haldener who couldn't escape. They blockaded our borders and ripped away our homeland."

The Warriors roared in anger. I tapped into all the suppressed anger and hatred I'd hidden away as a Risa and allowed it free rein.

"In the end," I cried out, throwing my fist into the air, "we couldn't even return to bury our dead while they danced and shouted in triumph over the ashes of our loved ones."

A sea of anguished Fireborn roared at me with gaping mouths as though they longed to imbibe the sweet nectar of justice.

"Since then, the Gatál have spread like an epidemic across the Free World." I swept my hand over the audience, and they stared, wide-eyed as though the enemy hovered above them.

After a dramatic pause, I declared in a loud, deep rumble, "But no longer."

Like a people starved of love and affection, they called out to me. They gazed up at me as though I were their last hope.

"We draw the line!" I roared, stretching my hand out to them. "Here and no further!" I banged my fist on the podium. "The Fireborn stand as Guardians of the New Order, and we refuse to allow Gatál terror to spread."

They shouted their approval. Their gaping mouths reminded me of the day Peter had returned a piece of my soul.

"Like many of you, I lost everything in the scourge," I continued, "but I refuse to let our pain weaken us." I clenched my hand into a fist. "It fortifies us and gives us purpose."

"Yeah!"

"It gives us the will to fight, the will to lead, and the will to conquer."

A roar of approval surged through the audience, stronger than any lightning storm.

"We of the Fireborn Elite stand tall as warriors forged in flame. We serve our people to take back what is rightfully ours." Once again, I banged my fist. "We will not return until we smite our enemies with an iron fist and reclaim Halden as our home."

All the Fireborn brandished their weapons in unison to a chorus of booming cheers.

"Stand with me, my fellow Fireborn, and together let us defend the Motherland of Minningen. Let us pledge that we shall never again allow our lands to fall to the heathen hordes of Hades."

"Hear! Hear! Hear! Hear!"

"We will never forgive, and we will never forget. We will not rest until every last enemy perishes by the sword!"

A shout of approval cascaded over the audience, and my soul no longer belonged to me. The old Liselle Alta faded into the darkness, and Captain Alaria von Tollen took her place.

I raised both arms to the heavens. "Halden prevails! Minningen above all! Victory is ours!"

"Cap-tain! Cap-tain! Cap-tain!"

I watched their frenzied expressions, their fists, swords, and axes piercing the air as they cried out to me. A part of me couldn't help but remember the rally at the tavern the night Father spoke to the great unwashed. Back then, Liselle Alta cringed with disgust.

Now I stared in wonder at the audience, brimming with determination. We would get justice. We would crush the enemy. We would reclaim our land.

Even if it took my dying breath.

Once again my gaze met Peter's, but this time, he didn't look proud. I couldn't tell if he was amazed or frightened.