The air inside the Grand Council Chamber of Bloodmoon Castle was heavy with the scent of burning cedar oil and aged parchment.
High arched windows framed the gray northern sky, casting pale light across the tiered stone seats where twenty senior elders of the Conservative Conclave sat cloaked in heavy violet robes. At the center of the semicircular bench stood High Elder Corvin, his silver beard braided with bronze beads, his hand resting on the carved head of an iron staff.
Elena stood at the center of the marble floor.
She wore a long tunic of deep slate velvet trimmed with pale wolf fur, her dark hair pinned back with two silver daggers bearing the crescent moon insignia. Her posture was straight as a drawn spear, her dark eyes clear, unyielding, and glowing with a faint rim of lunar
