The morning bustle of Oakhaven carried a false note of harmony. In the council hall, the air was cool but felt heavy with a static charge that made the hair on everyone’s neck stand up. Lord Elric sat at the head of the long table, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, hollow pattern against the polished oak. His eyes remained fixed on a single point on the wall, refusing to blink.
"The blacksmith’s forge was seen flaring at an irregular hour," Lord Elric said. His voice was no longer the wavering tone of a nervous bureaucrat. It sounded layered, as if multiple voices were trying to speak through a single throat.
"Is that our priority now, Elric?" Lady Calla asked. She leaned back, her brow furrowed. "We have half the city without running water and the inner gates are still held together with
