# CHAPTER 25: The Map of All Secrets
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review CHAPTER 25 of "Fourth Wing" — a chapter that takes us from the roaring triumph of the Squad Battle straight into a midnight heist that would make even the bravest thief think twice. So grab your flight jacket and hold on tight, because this ride is about to get dangerous.
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The gymnasium erupts the moment Mikael's palm smacks the mat for the third time. Liam has done it — he's won the final one-on-one brawl, and our entire squad roars with pure, wild joy. Sawyer screams so loud I think his voice might crack, and before I know it, I'm swept up in a crushing tangle of arms and laughter. We're a mess of sweat and adrenaline and triumph, and for one perfect moment, nothing in the world matters except this win.
But as the noise begins to settle, a cold knot forms in my stomach. Dain isn't here. Neither is Cianna. And if I know Dain at all, he would *never* miss something like this.
Then Commandant Panchek steps onto the mat with that gleeful grin of his, and every rider in the room goes silent. He announces that the final task of the Squad Battle won't wait until tomorrow. It begins *tonight*. And to make things even worse, our squad leaders and executive officers have been "sequestered" — meaning we're on our own. The mission: find and acquire, by any means necessary, the one thing that would be most advantageous to our enemies in the war effort. Sixty points to the winning squad. Three hours. No leadership. No mercy.
Pandemonium.
Imogen takes charge immediately, herding our squad — Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing — into the weight room. We're down our leaders, but we're not down our wits. She locks the door, takes a head count, and looks at us expectantly. "First thing. Who wants to be in command?"
Ridoc's hand shoots up. Rhiannon slams it back down. Fair point.
Liam shakes his head, but his eyes flick toward me. I know what that means — he's not letting anyone near me tonight. Imogen keeps command by default, and to everyone's surprise, even Nadine agrees to follow her. The room crackles with ideas: weapons, cross-bolts, Panchek's underwear — okay, that last one is Ridoc — and then Liam quietly suggests stealing the news missives from the Archives.
I shake my head. Locked. Sealed. Impossible.
But something else is forming in my mind, something so audacious it makes my stomach twist. Imogen sees the gears turning. "What are you thinking, Sorrengail?"
I try to wave it off, but she won't let it go. "Get. Up. Here. And. Work. It. Out."
So I do. I lay out our assets: Ridoc's ice, Rhiannon's retrieval, Sawyer's metal manipulation, Imogen's ability to wipe memories, Quinn's astral projection, Emery's wind, Heaton's underwater breathing — which gets an impressed blink from all of us — and then I drop the bombshell.
"We're going to break into my mother's office."
The room goes quiet. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across more than one face.
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Two hours later, we're creeping through the night like shadows. Quinn's astral form floats ahead of us — her body safely hidden with Heaton — and Ridoc can't stop squirming because, let's be honest, having your friend's ghostly image drift through your peripheral vision is unsettling. We pass the Healer Quadrant, dodge a few squads from other wings, and climb the dizzying spiral stairs that lead to the war college. My anxiety spikes, and my relic burns against my spine, a constant reminder that I need this plan to work.
At the top, Liam scouts. One guard. No light under the general's door. Perfect.
Quinn charges up the stairs, drawing the guard away with her ghostly voice, and the rest of us launch into motion. Sawyer seals the opposite staircase with his metal-wielding. Nadine, whose signet lets her unweave wards, works her magic on the door. Liam takes the guard's post and tries to look casual, though I can see the worry etched in his forehead.
"Relax," I whisper. "If you hear a whistle, we'll figure it out."
Then we're inside.
My mother's office is exactly what I remember: dark wood, polished surfaces, the weight of authority pressing down from every shelf. I warn everyone not to touch the mage lights — she'd know instantly — and instead I flick my wrist, summoning a small blue flame to light my path. Ridoc makes himself comfortable on the couch because of course he does, while the others search the conference table. I head for the desk.
There are three folded missives sitting in the middle. The first is a desperate plea from Major Kallista Neema, begging for reinforcements at Athebyne. The raids have spread too thin, she says. The situation is dire. My chest aches reading it. We hear about attacks in Battle Brief, but not like this. Not with this kind of raw desperation.
The second letter is worse. Lieutenant Colonel Alyssa Travonte writes about growing protests in Tyrrendor — conscription laws, unrest, the need for defensive spending instead of military suppression. The words chill me. We don't hear any of this in class.
But what really catches my eye is the map. A giant, detailed map of Navarre and its borders, marked with every outpost, every troop strength, every skirmish. I grin so wide I'm surprised my face doesn't split.
"Hey, Second Squad. I know what we need to steal."
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It takes minutes to cut the map from its frame and roll it up. But just as we're securing the leather ties, Liam's whistle cuts through the air — sharp, urgent, terrifying. The guard is back, and he's pounding at the hall door.
We burst into the corridor, but the guard spots us. He charges. For a moment, panic threatens to swallow everything.
"We're dead if he catches us with the map!" Ridoc yells.
"We can't hurt him!" I shout back.
Rhiannon steps into the middle of the hallway, arms outstretched. Imogen chants under her breath: "Please work. Please work. Please work." The map disappears from her hands and reappears in Rhiannon's — retrieved, pulled across space at the last possible second.
The guard keeps coming. Emery steps forward, apologizing under his breath, and sends a torrent of wind that slams the guard against the stone wall. He drops.
We drag him into an undersecretary's office. I check his pulse — strong, good — and then I pull out a small vial of tonic from my leathers, pour it into his mouth, and watch his face relax into deep sleep.
Liam stares at me with wide eyes. "You're kind of terrifying."
"Thank you."
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We make it to the Battle Brief room just under the clock. We're the last to arrive, and the tick in Dain's jaw tells me we're going to hear about it later. Squad by squad, everyone presents their spoils. A journal on dragon habits. An infantry uniform with an actual name tag. A stunned, speechless scribe — poor guy, someone's signet clearly took his voice.
Then it's our turn.
Sawyer and Liam hold up the map, unrolling it so everyone can see. I step forward, fighting back a smile.
"We have brought the ultimate weapon. An up-to-date map of all current outposts of Navarrian wings, including troop strength and the locations of every skirmish in the last thirty days. Including last night."
Markham's eyes go saucer-wide. Devera's mouth hangs open. Kaori asks how we know it's current.
I smile. "Because we stole it from General Sorrengail's office."
Absolute chaos. Riders rush the stage, professors scramble toward us, but I don't care. My eyes find Xaden leaning against the wall, those onyx eyes watching me with something like pride. He tilts an imaginary hat to me, bows his head just enough to make my heart race, and holds my gaze for one long, electric moment.
It doesn't matter how the vote comes down. I've already won.
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And that's how I end up flying for six hours straight, sore in places I didn't know existed, dismounting at a windswept outpost with legs that feel like jelly. Nadine is bent over, breathing like she's about to die. Every vertebra in my spine screams. Dain, somehow, looks almost fine.
The outpost commander greets us with a professional smile and that gaunt, weathered look of someone who's been stationed too long. "I'm sure you'd all like to get settled," he says. "Then we'll show you around Montserrat."
Rhiannon inhales sharply, her gaze sweeping over the mountains. But I can't help wondering what we've really walked into. Here, at a forward outpost on the border of enemy territory, we might just be stepping into the exact kind of danger we've only ever seen on a map.
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**Reader's Impressions & Star Rating:**
Oh, this chapter is an absolute ride! From the exhilaration of Liam's victory to the sheer audacity of Violet's plan to rob her own mother's office, I couldn't put it down. The heist sequence was tense, clever, and so wonderfully risky, and that final reveal of the map in front of the entire quadrant was *chef's kiss*. Watching Violet take charge, think on her feet, and earn Xaden's silent approval was deeply satisfying. And the ending — landing at Montserrat, with that hint of danger around every mountain peak — leaves me desperate for more.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction:**
Now that Violet and her squad are stationed at Montserrat, I predict that the calm will not last long. A "walk around the outpost" will quickly reveal something far more sinister than cadets expect — perhaps an attack from gryphons, secret enemy movements, or evidence that the war is much closer than Navarre's leadership has claimed. Violet's map will prove even more valuable than anyone imagined, and the bond between her and Tairn — and maybe even that dangerous flicker with Xaden — is about to be tested in a place where there's nowhere to hide.
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