The group stepped into the circle, each taking their place in silence. Elarenya stood behind Vaelorian, her hands folded calmly. Auren moved behind Subaru with an eager but nervous glance. Raphael stood still behind Thorn, quiet as stone.
No one dared to speak.
Elorandir's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Now that we are complete…and given that the Dwarven Kingdom will not be joining us this year…are we ready?"
A ripple of nods and murmured assent passed through the circle.
"Good," Elorandir said softly. His hand rose, fingers spreading like a slow, deliberate command.
The earth beneath them stirred with light. From the circle's center, radiant veins of ethereal brilliance pulsed outward, alive and shifting as if the ground itself were a living heart. The glow climbed the walls, weaving into luminous sigils that bent and twisted with silent grace. The air thickened, heavy and unmoving.
One by one, their bodies unraveled—not into dust, but into streams of shimmering motes, strands of blue-silver magic unspooling like threads of starlight. The cottage walls folded in on themselves, spiraling inward into a vortex of infinite depth. Reality bent, curled, and then snapped.
They emerged beneath a sky not meant for mortal eyes. Nebula blues bled into streaks of bronze and gold, constellations twisting in unfamiliar, eternal patterns. Beneath their feet stretched smooth rootwood, polished and glowing faintly with mana. From the floor's radiant veins rose a vast table, carved seamlessly from the same living root, its surface shining as if it remembered the touch of gods. Seven towering chairs encircled it, each marked by subtle sigils of their bearer's kingdom.
As though summoned by unseen design, the rulers stepped forward, each taking their place before the great table. Behind every throne-shaped seat, the aides appeared, the chamber itself bending to grant them perfect standing ground—always a single step behind their sovereign.
There was no sun, no moon, no wind. Only the eternal turning of strange constellations.
The Everhour Chamber had awakened.
Elorandir remained standing, hands clasped lightly before him, his eyes calm but sharp. "As I said, all are present. The Everhour Chamber is sealed. None beyond these walls may touch what is spoken here. A year has passed since the last gathering of this council. The world has not been idle…. The stage is yours, my lords and ladies. Speak of the matters that weigh most heavily upon your thrones."
Silence followed. Heavy, deliberate. Each ruler's gaze shifted, measuring the others, testing for weakness, for secrets hidden in silence, while their aides stood watchful shadows behind them.
At last, King Vareth exhaled, his voice breaking the quiet like a drawn blade. "If none here will take the first step, then allow me. It seems the rest of you prefer to sit in silence, content to measure what secrets linger behind another's gaze rather than face them." His tone was sharp, but calm, like iron hammered flat. "Very well. The matter is this: the Bloodbound Covenant. My spies tell me they grow in strength and number. Their ranks swell with zealots. Their purpose remains hidden, but their hand spreads unchecked across our kingdoms like a stain. If their ambition is not cut short soon, mark my words… disaster will come."
A hushed unease stirred across the table. Several aides shifted, though none spoke.
The Saintess lowered her head slightly, her blindfold concealing her eyes, but her voice rang with fragile certainty. "I believe you, King Vareth. The Bloodbound Covenant is no mere cult. They are servants of something higher… or lower. A fallen angel. A god who sees us as nothing more than insects. If their worship strengthens him, then their aim will be suffering without end."
Her words lingered in the chamber, heavy as stone, drawing glances from both rulers and aides.
Then came Morganya, the Supreme Witch, her tone deceptively calm, her eyes unreadable. "If their faith lies in a god who has fallen, then their purpose cannot be subtle. It is simple. Obvious. They seek to summon him."
A murmur rippled through the chamber, aides exchanging fleeting looks though the rulers themselves held firm expressions.
Raizen, the Imperial King, leaned forward, his words edged with suspicion. "You speak with confidence, Witch. Why should we believe that summoning is their endgame?"
Morganya tilted her head, her lips curving faintly—not quite a smile. "Because, Raizen, in all the centuries I have seen, cults are predictable. If they kneel to a mortal corpse, they seek to revive it. If they worship a power beyond this world, they seek to drag it here. History repeats itself. Only fools pretend otherwise."
Her words struck like a lash, leaving the chamber bristling with unease.
All eyes turned to Subaru as he spoke, his voice quiet but firm, carrying more weight in its restraint than any raised tone could. "Summon… they can't summon him."
The words cut through the chamber's silence.
King Vareth's brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing on Subaru like a hawk testing prey. "And what makes you so sure, Subaru?"
Subaru let his eyes drift across the glowing rootwood table, his tone steady but edged with skepticism. "From our standpoint, what means do they even have to do that? From what little you have said, they are gathering worshippers, swelling in numbers, spreading like a shadow. That is not summoning. That is theater. Empty threats. To me, it sounds like fools at the top feeding their gullible followers a story. A fairytale wrapped in blood."
The Imperial King, Raizen, leaned forward, his fingers tapping once against the table. "That may be true, yet we cannot blind ourselves to the odds stacked against us. Even fools, if left unchecked, can drown a kingdom."
"The odds are baseless if all we have is speculation," Subaru replied, his voice sharpening with frustration. "Nobody here, except the Saintess, has offered any real intelligence. We are trading shadows for shadows. What we need are facts… Where the Covenant festers, how they move, the hour to strike. Otherwise, we speak in circles."
For the first time, Vareth's lips curved into something almost resembling a smile. Thin. Calculated. Political. "If you put it so plainly, then perhaps we should begin at the root. The Balmout Kingdom." His eyes slid deliberately to Thorn, the weight of the chamber shifting with them. "Tell us, King Thorn…what have you uncovered about the Bloodbound Covenant, given that their activities are most deeply tied to your soil?"
Thorn's jaw clenched, his thoughts burning quicker than his tongue. "Oh, look at this bastard. Fishing for intel he already holds in secret. I see you, Vareth".
Aloud, his scoff broke the chamber's tension. "Hmm, things? And what right do I have to stand here and tell you what goes on in my kingdom?"
Vareth's smile widened by the barest fraction, the kind that hid daggers in silk.
Raizen's patience cracked, his voice heavy with command. "Thorn, this is not the hour to withhold truths. Every heartbeat we waste could cost us blood."
"What else would you expect from him?" Morganya's voice slid in like poison wrapped in honey, her expression unchanging. "He's a man-child. Always has been."
Thorn's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing into blades. "Man-child?" he spat, venom sharp in every syllable. "Look who's talking…you insufferable, lonely old hag!"
The insult rippled through the chamber.
Subaru coughed into his hand, failing to disguise the quiet laugh that slipped out. A snort escaped instead, and he tried to hide it, to no avail.
King Vareth's chuckle followed, low and amused, as if the chaos entertained him.
Vaelorian exhaled heavily, his eyes closing for a beat of restraint. "Children. All of you. Playing at crowns while the world burns."
Behind him, Elarenya shook her head, though the faint curve of a smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Drakos, ever close behind the Saintess, allowed himself a stifled snicker. Valdis, standing firm at his side, nudged him sharply with an elbow. "Hey, don't drag us into trouble," he muttered beneath his breath.
The Saintess frowned faintly, her silence heavier than any rebuke.
And through it all, Elorandir merely watched, the faintest hum of amusement resting at the corner of his lips, his eyes unreadable. "This will be a long summit indeed."
~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the woods outside the Balmout Kingdom…
The night was thick, its silence broken only by the groan of wheels grinding against soft earth. A heavy carriage rumbled through the trees, each turn of its iron-rimmed wheels sinking deep into the mud. Fixed to its back was a massive cage. Inside, a cluster of elves sat huddled together, bound in chains, their wide eyes shimmering with fear beneath the pale moonlight.
Figures in dark robes marched at either side, swords drawn and torches flickering in their hands. Their shadows stretched long across the ground, moving like restless wraiths. Every so often, a captor would strike the bars of the cage with the flat of his blade, making the elves flinch and press tighter against one another.
The stillness shattered.
Low, guttural roars rolled through the woods, followed by the earth-shaking growl of beasts too large to belong to these lands. From the underbrush and shadows between the trees, predators emerged. Ten Ironfur bears, their hulking frames coated in thick, bristling fur, advanced in deliberate, coordinated steps. With them came twelve Kraggor, towering ape-like monsters whose raw muscle glistened under the moonlight. Their eyes burned with primal fury.
The robed men froze, their formation breaking.
"Beasts…!" one hissed, lifting his sword just as the first Ironfur charged.
The forest erupted into chaos.
One of the Kraggors, larger than the rest, climbed a thick oak with terrifying speed and hurled itself down from the branches. It landed on the carriage with an earth-shaking crash. The roof of the cage bent and shrieked, the wood splintering, the iron supports groaning before snapping. The elves screamed, their terror a living thing in the air.
The Kraggor's hand shot into the cage, seizing a trembling elf girl. She screamed, her voice thin and desperate as she was torn from the others. A robed figure lunged at the beast, his blade glinting, but before it could strike, the Kraggor hurled the girl aside with terrifying strength.
She flew through the air, her cry swallowed by the din of battle, and landed hard in the clearing. The ground shuddered beneath her fall.
Waiting there was an Ironfur bear, its massive body looming over her like a shadow of the night itself. Its maw opened wide, gleaming fangs catching the moonlight. The elves inside the cage shrieked again, certain they would hear her bones snap.
But the bear's jaws closed gently, carefully, clamping around her torso with surprising restraint. Without hesitation, it turned and bounded away, its colossal limbs tearing through the undergrowth. The girl dangled from its mouth, whimpering, but alive.
Back at the carriage, steel clashed with claw. A robed man brought his sword down on the Kraggor atop the cage, sparks flying as the blade bit into thick hide. The beast bellowed, blood spraying as the cut split its shoulder, but it did not fall. Instead, it backhanded the man with crushing force, sending him sprawling into the mud, his ribs caving in under the impact.
Another cultist's cry rang out, his voice ragged with panic. "One of the specimens is being taken away!"
He broke from the fray and gave chase after the fleeing Ironfur. His boots pounded the ground, his blade raised high.
He never reached his prey.
A Kraggor stepped into his path, moving with unnatural swiftness for something so massive. Its fist swung down in a brutal arc, slamming into the man's head. The impact sounded like stone splitting. The man's skull burst beneath the blow with a sickening crack, shards of bone and blood spraying across the moss. His body crumpled lifelessly, his torch extinguished in the dirt.
The Kraggor roared, the sound shaking the trees, triumphant and savage.
The Ironfur bear thundered through the woods, each step shaking the earth, branches snapping beneath its weight. For a long stretch it did not stop, only ran deeper into the forest's shadows with the trembling elf girl clutched between its teeth.
Only when the night grew still again, and no sound of pursuit lingered, did the beast finally slow. Its massive paws pressed into the soft moss, and with deliberate care, it lowered its head. The girl tumbled gently onto the ground, gasping as she landed. She curled into herself, shivering violently, her eyes squeezed shut.
She waited for the pain. For the teeth to close again, this time to end her life.
But nothing came.
The silence pressed against her ears until she could no longer bear it. She opened her eyes.
The bear loomed above her, its towering body casting her in shadow. Slowly, it rose to its full height, standing upright, its breath hot and heavy in the cool night air. For a heartbeat, her terror sharpened, certain this was the moment it would strike.
Then the beast bowed its massive head. Its muzzle dipped low, until its teeth found the iron chain binding her wrists. With a careful, deliberate snap of its jaws, the links broke. The sound was a soft ping, almost fragile compared to the creature's raw power. The chains fell uselessly into the grass.
The girl's breath caught in her throat. Her hands were free.
She lifted them, staring at her own trembling fingers. "I can move… the chains are gone…" But still she did not dare to flee. Her body was locked between instinctive terror and something she could not name.
The bear stepped back. Its eyes, dark and unblinking, held no hunger, no malice. Only stillness.
A rustle came from the undergrowth.
Two small shapes emerged, so out of place in the blood-soaked night that the girl almost thought she was dreaming. White bunnies, their fur pure as snow, hopped into the clearing. They came close without fear, brushing against her hand, their warmth startling against her cold skin.
Her lips trembled. Her body shook, but no longer from the same fear. The tears came suddenly, hot and unstoppable, spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands, the sound of her sobbing breaking in the quiet
The bunnies nudged her gently again, and she lowered her hands, her gaze falling on the Ironfur. It bent its enormous head until it hovered close to her, then released a low, rumbling sound. Not a growl. Not a threat. A deep vibration that seemed to settle in her bones.
It was comfort.
The girl choked back another sob, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. The fear inside her unraveled, giving way to something raw and fragile. Relief.
Her chains lay broken in the moss.
The beast still watched her in silence.
And in that silence, the question hung heavy, unanswered, almost unbearable.
Why?