The declaration of war still hung in the air like a lingering curse when the Elders reacted.
Three of them stood so quickly their chairs scraped harshly against the obsidian floor. Another slammed a palm onto the table, robes trembling with barely contained outrage. Even the eldest among them—those who had lived through the last great succession crises—looked shaken.
Valttair simply watched.
'Hundreds of years without a fracture… and Kaedor is the fool who finally snaps the spine of this Council. And for what? Pride? A lie Icarus fed him? You really are dumber than I ever thought.'
The Elder Matriarch, the same elf who had opened the session, turned toward Kaedor with an expression caught between disappointment and disbelief.
"You reject all peaceful resolutions?" she asked slowly, as if giving him one last chance to think.
Kaedor didn't even blink. "I do."
Another Elder hissed under his breath. "Madness. Absolute madness."
