The Duel Delayed
The council chamber brimmed with tension, the gathered Alphas sitting in sharp silence as Tobias stood at the center, his dark robes flowing around him like a stormcloud. He gestured to the artifact on the table—a charred relic marked with ominous runes—and his smirk was as sharp as the blade he imagined poised at Draven’s neck.
“This,” Tobias declared, gesturing grandly, “is irrefutable proof of Crimson Fang’s descent into forbidden practices. This is what their Alpha protects, what his Luna shields.” His eyes gleamed as they fixed on Draven. “Dark magic.”
Gasps rippled through the council chamber. The elder Alphas murmured among themselves, their expressions grim.
Draven stood slowly, his amber eyes blazing as he stepped forward. “That’s a bold claim, Tobias,” he said, his voice steady and resonant. “But it’s also a lie.”
Tobias laughed, feigning amusement. “A lie? Oh, Draven. Do you truly think the council will take your word over evidence as damning as this?”
Draven’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “No,” he said evenly, turning to the council. “I don’t expect you to take my word. That’s why I brought someone who can prove this artifact is a fabrication.”
Tobias’s smirk faltered as Draven gestured to the shadows at the back of the chamber. Micah stepped forward, her presence calm and collected, her healer’s robes swaying lightly as she carried a bundle of her tools.
“Micah is Crimson Fang’s healer,” Draven explained, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “And an expert in magical forensics. She’ll examine this so-called artifact and reveal the truth.”
Tobias’s eyes darkened, but he stepped back, gesturing with mock politeness. “By all means. Let the healer work her… magic.”
Micah ignored his jibe, setting her tools on the table with practiced precision. As the council watched, she leaned over the artifact, her sharp eyes studying the runes and the faint residue clinging to the metal. Her fingers moved deftly, sprinkling a fine powder over the surface, which shimmered faintly in the firelight.
After several moments of silence, she straightened, her expression sharp. “This is a forgery.”
The council erupted in gasps and murmurs. Tobias froze, his confident mask cracking as he turned toward her. “A forgery?”
Micah nodded, holding up the artifact. “The runes are copied sloppily, likely from an old text, but they don’t align with authentic dark magic sigils. The residue here isn’t magic at all—it’s charcoal and animal blood, mixed to mimic enchantment marks.” She placed the artifact back on the table with finality. “Whatever this is, it didn’t come from Crimson Fang. It’s a fabrication.”
Draven’s eyes locked onto Tobias, his voice cold and sharp. “Care to explain, Tobias? Or will you admit to this pathetic attempt at deception?”
The council erupted into more murmurs, several Alphas leaning toward one another, clearly rethinking Tobias’s credibility.
Tobias recovered quickly, though his smirk was strained. “A mistake, perhaps,” he said, his tone still smooth. “I was given this artifact by someone claiming to have found it near your borders. I only sought the truth.”
“You sought to undermine us,” Isla said, her voice cutting through the chamber. She stepped forward, her silver eyes blazing. “And you failed. How many more lies do you plan to spin before the council sees you for what you are?”
The murmurs grew louder, and for the first time, Tobias looked uneasy.
An elder Alpha rose, his expression stern as he addressed Tobias. “This is a grave accusation to make without evidence. Fabricated or not, you’ve cast doubt on this council’s process. Be cautious, Tobias, or you’ll find yourself under scrutiny.”
Draven’s lips curled into a faint smirk, but he quickly hid it behind a stoic nod. “The truth always comes to light,” he said, his voice steady. “Crimson Fang has nothing to hide.”
Tobias glared at him, his veneer of calm slipping. His voice was low and venomous as he muttered, “Enjoy this little victory, Draven. It won’t last.”
As the council adjourned for the evening, Isla turned to Draven, her voice low. “We’ve won this round.”
Draven’s gaze followed Tobias as he stalked from the room. “Yes,” he said, his voice cold. “Now we return home. But Tobias won’t stop until he’s broken our defences. And next time, he’ll be more dangerous.”
