The first light of dawn was pale, thinned by the veil that stretched across the sky. Inside the longhall, the benches were filled again. Wolves lined the walls two deep. Witches stood at each copper flame. The vampire envoys sat stiff-backed, robes drawn close, eyes fixed on the door.
Moira lifted the copper rod. “The council reconvenes. The record is complete. The prisoner will stand for judgment.”
The carriers entered with the lattice. Boots thudded against stone, claws scraped, voices murmured sigils to keep the shadows bound. The cocoon was lowered onto the floor. Valerius’s eyes gleamed pale through the writhing dark. His mouth was sealed until Moira spoke.
“The record holds: testimonies, ledgers, facilities, Varna recovery, and the prisoner’s own words. The council will vote.”
Th
