The silence that followed became heavy and oppressive in the air. It settled over the chamber like smoke after a fire, thick enough to choke thought and sharpen every breath. No one moved at first. Even the torches along the walls seemed to burn lower, their flames bending restlessly in the draft that slipped through the stone seams.

Then Vaeron moved.

Slowly and deliberately, he crossed the room toward the great council table, where the map of the entire continent lay spread out beneath daggers, iron seals, and half-burned candles. The parchment was scarred with fresh markings—black circles, crimson slashes, and notes scribbled in hurried ink.

His eyes fell on Deathhill, the northern district managed by Blackvale’s oldest ward-keepers. The place where the werewolf princess was first abducted on their way to Blackvale.

The mark there was new, a dark ring of ink, circled twice in red. Which meant it had also been attacked.

Vaeron’s expression hardened.

Deathhill was not a place easily breached.

It lay beyond the Frostviel cliffs, where the northern wind cut like knives and the earth remained frozen through all seasons. Beneath its hills rested an ancient burial ground bound with dragon-fire wards older than most of the lords present, known to be the old crypt-lines. Yet the Umbrathrallas, who lived far east restrained under the Bleak Reaches were able to breach the ward around the north. The same thing meant to kill them, gave them more strength, just like the Phantoms that attacked Regharon yesterday.

He looked over the marked section. If Deathhill had been marked, then this was no random attack. Someone was tracing a path, and it took him a moment to trace their movements.

His gloved fingers came down on the parchment. "Here." The single word cut through the silence, the intensity of his tone enough to turn several heads.

Lord Lucerion and a few others stepped closer. "Deathhill?"

Vaeron’s hazel eyes remained fixed on the map. "The northern district is too heavily warded for phantoms to enter by force. If they breached it, then they were led."

A murmur moved through the room, thoughts and sentiments being shared amongst each other.

Vaeloria’s gaze sharpened. "Led by whom?"

"The wardens," he responded, recalling the encounter with the creature that mimicked Lorcan. The ward had been betrayed, and this time, it’s been done on a closer watch.

The revelation made the room colder with collected gasps that echoed louder than they ought to be.

"How is that possible?" One of the Elders asked, sharing looks among the others. "The wardens are the protectors. They are bound to serve by blood and oath. The rune guarding the seal cannot be penetrated, even by the protectors themselves."

"Many have tried to breach the wards but they all failed," One of the sins added. "Over centuries, even the wardens themselves could not decipher the inner seal routes. Enemies and otherworldly creatures could not bypass them. That ignorance was our greatest defense."

"And that knowledge was used as a bait to cover their gullible tracks," Vaeron said. "The ward cannot be trespassed by outsiders, yet it can be accessible by those who claim to protect it. The very ones believed to be ignorant creatures,"

"Unless someone discovered such knowledge and kept it hidden over the years," Vaeloria commented, deep in thought. The weight of the admission was like a rock placed over one’s shoulder. "The attack had been planned way before it was being birthed,"

"Perhaps our distraction with the current missing bodies was their ticket to slip beneath our fingers without our knowledge," Lord Lucerion said, disdain and irritation laced in his voice, sharpening the lines of his face.

"Just last night, there was an attack. If Vespera hadn’t sent a signal faster, who knows what the worst that could’ve happened?" said one of the Sins, causing a slight imperceptible shift in the atmosphere.

Previously, they had tried reaching Deathhill, but something served as a barricade, hindering their accessibility beyond the threshold. Nothing like that had ever happened. And whatever it was disappeared the moment they arrived.

"Do you think this is one of Malachi’s schemes?" An Elder questioned, reading their unspoken thoughts.

"We don’t know for certain," The Sin with amber eyes replied, whatever trace of earlier amusement disappearing into thin air. Every curve of his face was hardened with purpose and intent. "We’ve only been able to track his movement. Rheonara’s scout discovered his presence around the outer ridges yesterday, just a moment before the attack took place."

"He’s been moving under the canopy of missing bodies and abduction of a few living. If Malachi has truly mastered building forces unchecked, then yesterday was not destruction for its own sake," Lord Zorathiel said, letting a pause linger before adding, "It was a declaration."

The torches flickered again, casting shadows that stretched long across the maps. Its illumination shone over cities, borders, and names that suddenly felt far more fragile than they had the day before. It was a calling for war, and no one tried to deny it.

Lord Lucerion’s icy gaze lowered to the charred markings. "The eastern wards collapsed in succession as if something was severing them from within. Perhaps we should start from there,"

That made the room colder because everyone in that chamber understood what it implied; an inside breach, or someone powerful enough to mimic one.

Rheonara straightened. "There were witnesses," she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the tension rising in the chambers. "Survivors reported creatures unlike anything catalogued in Blackvale’s borders. The very same that attacked one-third of the civilians yesterday," She let her gaze sweep across the council before continuing. "They also spoke of a burst of white, blinding light, a force powerful enough to tear through the entire fair and wipe out everything in its path."

The admission settled over the room like a stone dropped into still water.

Rheonara’s expression tightened as she proceeded. "And from everything we know, that could not have been Vespera," Her voice lowered, edged now with grim certainty. "Her power has limits. It does not reach that far, nor does it possess that kind of destructive range."

"Perhaps it did," Vaeron interceded, and her gaze drifted in his direction. "One cannot truly underestimate an ability such as hers,"

"The fracture in the earth and the blinding light are not of the same origin," Lord Achelion said. His gaze flicked briefly to the map, then to Vaeron, "They do not feel as though they came from one source, nor did they manifest as a single force. Two powers were at work there; distinct, separate, and violently opposed to one another."

The amber-eyed Sin approached the table, the sharp click of his boot echoing in the room after the pause. "One tore through the ground itself, leaving behind that divide as though the earth had been split open from beneath, while the other came from above—or outward—pure white and devastating enough to erase everything in its path," On reaching the table as well, he straightened slowly, folding his arms across his chest. "They did not coexist in harmony. If anything, they collided. One answered the other, as troubling as it seems,"

Vaeron could already tell where the conversation was heading. He too was curious as to what really transpired during the attack.

"I was told the mortal was present during the attack," Lord Lucerion said, the word ’mortal’ like a disease itching one’s ears.

Vaeron felt his shoulder stiffen almost imperceptibly. His brother noticed.

Of course he did.

"She was," he drawled softly, amber eyes gleaming like fire as he stared at him. "Where’s the mortal?"

Vaeron’s gaze cut to him. "Speak carefully."

"Oh, I am," His brother stepped forward, dagger now resting flat against the table. "But it seems our dear Vaeron may know more than he’s willing to share."