ALLURING : Between Two Realms

Chapter 19 - The Hidden Council

As soon as Ravynn's shadow disappeared beyond my door, I wasted no time. The night was already thinning, and secrecy had always worked best before dawn learned where to look.

I folded the parchment into smaller summons, each one carrying no crest, no royal seal, and no written name that could betray its receiver. Only old magic recognized old blood.

Then I began.

North first.

Then East.

West.

South.

One province after another, I slipped through the spaces between flame and shadow, appearing only long enough to place the summons where it would be found.

Beside a sleeping hand.

On a private desk.

Beneath a cup of untouched wine.

Against the threshold of a chamber no servant was allowed to enter.

I did not wake them. That would have been careless. Instead, I let the invitation touch their dreams.

A whisper.

A pressure.

A small warmth against the soul.

Enough for the loyal to understand. Enough for the cautious to fear. No question was asked, because no question was permitted. The summons carried its own answer.

By the time I returned to my sanctuary, the fire beneath my cauldron had burned low. My bones felt heavier than they should have. Teleporting once was simple enough. Teleporting across provinces in a single night, while carrying royal secrecy and binding every invitation against the eyes of the Elders, was another matter entirely.

Ancient or not, power always demanded payment. I placed both hands on the edge of the table and breathed through the ache crawling up my spine. Then I reached for the herbs.

Moonroot.

Silverleaf.

Dried rose.

A pinch of black salt.

Three drops of night-bloom oil.

I dropped them into the cauldron one by one and stirred until the potion turned the color of storm clouds.

"This should help," I whispered to myself.

The liquid shimmered once. Not enough to comfort me. Enough to keep me standing. Tomorrow morning, I would have to tear open a path wide enough to bring them all into Ravynn's private meeting chamber without leaving a trail behind.

I looked toward the sealed door of my sanctuary. The Elders wanted silence. Very well. I would show them how old silence truly worked.

************************************************

Across the four provinces, a handful of royals and nobles woke to the same impossible thing: a sealed invitation burning softly beside their beds, on their desks, or in the palms of servants who did not remember carrying it.

No messenger had knocked.

No bird had flown.

No record had been written.

Only the dark wax seal remained, marked not with a crest, but with an old symbol most of them had not seen since the downfall of the court.

By dawn, they were to present themselves to Ravynn's private meeting chamber.

In secret.

Without escort.

Without question.

************************************************

By morning, Ravynn’s private meeting chamber was no longer empty.

One by one, the summoned arrived through the witch’s hidden path. No door opened. No servant announced them. No footsteps echoed through the hall. They appeared in silence, carrying the weight of their provinces with them.

Lady Eiravelle of the North Province.

Lord Theomir of the East Province

Lord Soren Veyr of the West Province, and his son Cassian Veyr.

And lastly, Lady Solenne of The South province.

And Central, waiting at the heart of it all.

The Royal Witch stood near the far end of the chamber, paler than she had been the night before. Teleporting across provinces had clearly taken its toll, though she kept her spine straight and her expression unreadable.

When the final guest arrived, she lowered her head toward Ravynn.

"Permission to leave, my Sire."

Ravynn looked at her. For a moment, the chamber went still.

"Stay, Lady Morwenna"

The witch lifted her gaze. Even Lord Caelum seemed to pause at that single word. Ravynn’s expression did not soften, but his voice carried something older than courtesy.

"You are part of this royal house too."

The words landed quietly. But everyone heard them. The Royal Witch remained frozen for a breath, as though no title, no spell, and no ancient oath had prepared her for that.

Then she bowed deeper.

"As thou commandest, Your Highness."

Ravynn’s eyes moved toward the walls of the chamber.

"And cloak this entire meeting."

Her face changed at once. Not with fear. With understanding.

"From whom?"

Ravynn’s gaze darkened.

"Everyone."

A faint smile touched her mouth, thin and sharp as a crescent blade.

"Then let no eye remember where to look."

She raised both hands. The air inside the chamber thickened. The lamps dimmed, not because their flames weakened, but because the light itself seemed to fold inward. A slow silver shadow spread along the walls, crossing the windows, sealing the doors, slipping beneath the floor like ink sinking into old paper.

For a moment, every sound disappeared.

No wind.

No footsteps outside.

No echo from the hall.

Only the quiet breathing of those gathered within.

Then the witch lowered her hands.

"It is done," she said softly. "No Elder ear shall hear. No servant tongue shall carry. No wandering sight shall pass through these walls."

Lord Caelum leaned back slightly, his expression grave.

"Good."

Ravynn turned to the gathered royals and nobles.

"Then we begin.”

Ravynn's voice echoed through his private meeting chamber.

The room itself was not large, but it carried a weight no ordinary hall could hold. At the center stood a long meeting table carved from a single slab of labradorite. Beneath the dim silver lamps, flashes of blue, green, and gold flickered across its surface whenever the light touched it at the right angle, as though the stone was hiding a sky inside its body.

I had seen many noble houses use marble, obsidian, or old ironwood for their council tables. But labradorite belonged to older purposes.

Protection.

Thresholds.

Hidden sight.

A strange choice for a meeting chamber.

Or perhaps not strange at all.

Ravynn sat at the head of the table, where the highest royal blood had always belonged, whether the realm still admitted it or not.

To his right sat Lord Caelum, old and composed, his silver-lined cloak falling neatly over one shoulder. Though he was titled as Lord of the Central Province by blood and inheritance, he had lived in the Northern Province since the downfall of the old court, choosing distance over the suffocation of Central politics.

Beside him sat Lady Maerith, calm and graceful, her hands folded over her lap. She looked almost gentle until one remembered she had survived wars that had buried stronger men.

To Ravynn's left sat Lord Alaric and Lady Adelia, representing one of the oldest noble-healer houses in Central. Arjuna stood behind his father's chair instead of sitting, arms crossed, silent and restless. Aurelia sat beside her mother, though her gaze kept moving toward the doors, as if she expected the Elders to break through the witch's cloak at any moment.

The guests from the other provinces sat farther down the table.

Lady Eiravelle of the North sat alone, her posture straight, her expression colder than the frost-silver embroidery on her cloak.

Lord Theomir of the East sat opposite her, thin fingers resting on a leather-bound folio he had brought despite being instructed to leave records behind.

From the West came Lord Soren Veyr, broad-shouldered and grave, with his son Cassian standing quietly behind him. They were the only pair summoned together, for the Western border oath required both the lord and his heir to witness matters that touched the veil.

Lady Solenne of the South sat nearest the witch, warm-eyed but sharp, her wrists circled with tiny stone beads that clicked softly whenever she moved.

And near the far end of the chamber stood Morwenna, the Royal Witch, pale from the night's work but still unbowed. She did not sit until Ravynn turned his gaze toward her.

"Sit, Morwenna," he said.

For a brief moment, surprise moved across her face. Then she lowered herself into the final chair. The Hidden Council was complete.

************************************************

Meanwhile, in the Human Realm, morning slipped in quietly, bringing warmth and serenity with it.

"I don't want to go home, Mommy," Maya said while munching on the egg muffin my mom had made for breakfast.

We were having breakfast in the backyard again. Mom had been collecting eggs earlier and was now harvesting some vegetables and sweet potatoes with Hanna, while Arya roamed across the grass, chasing butterflies and moths as if she had been born for open air.

"You have school to attend, Maya," Zehra said, holding her mug of black coffee. The kind traditionally made here, strong and poured slowly.

Mine sat on the table, steam still curling above it.

"But..." Maya pouted. "I want to stay here. Why can't I attend school here?"

There she was. My little rascal.

I smiled. "We will come here again next week, Maya."

"What about Grandma and Aunt Zehra visiting you this weekend?" Mom said. I did not even realize she had come closer until she spoke.

Maya's eyes widened.

"Really?"

Mom smiled. "Really."

Maya beamed, jumped from her chair, and ran to join her sisters. I watched her go, my fingers wrapped around my warm mug.

For a moment, I let myself believe the morning would stay gentle.