KAEL — POV
The war room reeked of smoke and prophecy.
Charred maps curled at the edges on the table in front of me. The ash hadn't settled since the emissary's death. A black stain still bled across the cracked stone where his body had crumpled. No one had moved it. No one dared.
Ayla stood in the center of the room.
Her back was to me. Her shoulders were bare, runes crawling lazily down her spine, silver ink pulsing with breath. She wasn't glowing now. She didn't need to.
She was the glow.
I watched her move. Measured. Careful. The way you move when you know your power can shatter rooms if you breathe too sharply. I hadn't spoken since we left the courtyard.
She hadn't needed me to.
But I had to speak now. Because what came next? It couldn't just be about vengeance. It had to be strategy.
"The Council will send more," I said. "Not emissaries. Not messengers. Soldiers. Seers. Assassins."
