Lincoln's POV:
The ride back to Elyndor was quite.
No victory songs, no applause from the watchtowers—just the faraway thrum of the barrier above and the soft metallic jingle of armor.
I tried not to glance around, Ignivar frim on my shoulder. Each step my horse took was like an anchor in weight, as if the earth itself resisted me returning.
I had saved them—again. But the looks my friends shared with me as we rode suggested otherwise.
Fear. Distrust. Unspoken fear.
As the Citadel gates open behind us, the guards exchanged uneasy glances. News had already spread faster than our arrival.
By evening, the Eight of us were summoned to the High Chamber.
The Council Hall was resplendent.
Low-burning torches throw a golden light, their beam curl queerly about the gleaming marble. There w
