The chamber smelled faintly of smoke and steel, a dragon’s den disguised in stone walls and shadows. A brazier burned in the corner, throwing restless light across the racks of blades and the carved dragon crest above the table. Kaelen leaned against it, broad shoulders stiff, his golden eyes sharp with thought.
Kairos paced like a caged predator, his boots hitting stone with sharp rhythm. “You should’ve never let them in,” he hissed, his voice hot with barely contained rage. “Do you even remember how long we’ve waited? How many of us died in silence so the rest could hide, rebuild, gather strength? We pretended we were nothing—ghosts, myths—so when we finally came back, we’d be unstoppable. And now? You parade strangers into our den and call them allies?”
Kaelen’s jaw flexed. He didn’t
