Aria didn’t look back as she walked out of the High Hall.
Not because she didn’t care—but because if she did, she might falter.
Elara fell into step beside her, shadows unusually quiet, restrained by something close to restraint rather than rage. Behind them, the doors shut with a hollow finality.
Inside the hall, chaos erupted.
Dominic was the first to rise.
“You will not threaten her,” he said, voice steady but carrying an edge that silenced even the oldest elders. “Not while I stand.”
Adrian joined him, placing a hand on the council table itself—a symbolic challenge.
“She is not your asset. And she is not alone.”
Elder Harrow scoffed.
“She walked away.”
“No,” Dominic corrected. “She was pushed.”
The elders exchanged looks. They had expected defiance—but not unity.
Outside, E
