“Then provide this Council with undeniable proof,” countered High Chancellor Kaelen, his silver staff striking the marble floor with a resonant, metallic thud that echoed off the high dome.
“You demand unprecedented continental jurisdiction.
You ask us to grant your fire mages free rein to violate our sovereign borders on a five-year-old cold trail.
We will not authorize such sweeping movements based entirely on a ghost story, Grand Magistrate.
Give us a solid lead, or this council will vote to deny your request here and now.” Vane’s jaw tightened, his gloved fists clenching at his sides.
The temperature on the central dais began to spike violently, a low hiss of steam rising from the stone beneath his boots as his fiery aura flared in response to his mounting frustration.
He had expected their bureaucratic resistance, but he could not produce what he did not have; Vance had covered the family’s tracks too thoroughly, leaving nothing behind but empty air.
“House Ember has no need to fabricate fairy tales to justify its vanguards,” a smooth, chilling voice drifted from the far right, halting the rising tension in its tracks.
The chamber turned toward the eastern corner of the semi-circle.
Shrouded in the light-eating garments of the Umbral Vale, High Inquisitor Malakor of the House of Noctis leaned forward.
His face was entirely hidden behind a porcelain mask carved into the likeness of a weeping crow.
Up until this moment, the shadow-lords had remained completely silent, content to observe the bickering of the elemental houses from the dark.
“The House of Noctis supports Grand Magistrate Vane’s request,” Malakor whispered, his thin, raspy voice echoing clearly throughout the vast, quiet dome.
“Our own shadow-veins have felt the erratic, silent tremors of an unaligned force moving through the lower realms.
Vane is a fool about many things, but he is not a liar.
The silver frequency he describes does not belong to the six pillars.
It is an anomaly that threatens us all.” A tense, calculating stillness fell over the high councilors.
The sudden alignment between House Ember and House Shadow completely shifted the dynamic of the room.
The other houses didn’t know that Malakor was playing a deeper game—that the shadow-lords had no intention of letting Vane claim the prize.
They simply wanted the borders opened so their own Umbral Stalkers could slip through the continent undetected.
High Chancellor Kaelen frowned, lowering his silver staff as he looked between Vane and the masked inquisitor.
The balance of Eldergard was built on rigid lines, and a political alliance between fire and shadow was a dangerous variable that none of them were prepared to accept without caution.