The Journey to the Council
The trek to the council’s stronghold was long and grueling, the landscape shifting from dense forests to steep cliffs carved with ancient runes. The path was as treacherous as the politics awaiting them, every step a reminder of the stakes.
Around the campfire one evening, Alaric’s sardonic voice broke the quiet. “Let’s not pretend Tobias’s little game isn’t genius,” he said, tossing a twig into the flames. “He doesn’t need to kill you, Draven. He just needs the council to doubt you. Doubt is contagious.”
“And you think we can’t handle it?” Draven replied, his tone as sharp as the knife he was cleaning.
“I think Tobias has more cards to play than you realize,” Alaric said, his eyes flicking to Isla. “And he knows exactly where to hit you.”
Isla stiffened under the weight of his gaze. “If Tobias thinks we’re easy targets, he’ll learn otherwise soon enough.”
Micah shifted closer, pulling a small pouch from her satchel. “I’ve made charms,” she said, handing them out one by one. “They won’t stop everything, but they should help against… external influences.”
“External influences?” Isla asked, turning the small silver amulet in her hands.
“Dark magic,” Micah clarified, her voice tight. “We’re not walking into a fair fight.”
Later, as the camp quieted, Isla caught Draven staring into the flames, his jaw set and his hands clasped tightly. She approached, her voice soft but steady. “They’re scared, but they trust you. I trust you.”
Draven’s gaze softened, just enough to let a flicker of vulnerability show. “I don’t care about their doubt,” he said. “But if Tobias so much as looks at you wrong, I’ll end him.”
Isla smiled faintly, brushing a hand against his. “He doesn’t scare me.”
“You should be scared of me,” Draven replied, his tone low but laced with affection.
As dawn broke, the group crested a ridge, and the council’s stronghold loomed ahead. Carved into the mountainside, its massive stone walls were etched with glowing symbols, their power palpable even from a distance.
“Charming place,” Alaric muttered.
Draven stood at the front, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the structure. Isla joined him, her silver hair catching the early light.
“Are we ready for this?” she asked.
He glanced at her, his hand brushing hers briefly before he squared his shoulders. “We don’t have a choice.”
