The drive from the tarmac into the Swiss mountains felt like traveling backward in time.
They left the modern, glass-and-steel architecture of Geneva behind, winding up a treacherous, ice-slicked road that only a convoy of heavy armored SUVs could navigate. At the summit, carved directly into the jagged black rock of the Alps, sat the High Council’s seat of power.
It wasn't a modern fortress like Lucian’s chalet. It was an ancient, sprawling gothic chateau with towering spires, gargoyles dusted in snow, and massive wrought-iron gates that groaned as they swung open.
Elara looked out the tinted window, her breath catching. The sheer scale of the place was meant to intimidate. It whispered of centuries of blood, secrets, and unbreakable laws.
The convoy parked in the cobblestone cour
