The silence inside the High Council Chamber was not empty; it was pressurized, heavy with the suffocating, ancient weight of centuries of unyielding Fae protocol. The very air felt crystallized, dense with the unseen expectations of the High Council members who sat in a semi-circle of judgment.
As I guided Ivy to her designated high-backed seat on the right flank of the massive obsidian table, my internal sensors immediately mapped the room's volatile topography. The Unseelie delegates sat far to the western edge, their arms crossed loosely over their dark tunics, intentionally maintaining the strict posture of neutral, detached observers. They had absolutely no intention of interfering; their purpose was purely to witness the destabilization of the Seelie crown.
The true architects of t
