The council chamber remained heavy even after the shadows vanished.
For several long seconds, no one dared to speak.
The frost had melted. The sigils along the walls dimmed back to their usual glow. Yet the memory of suffocating darkness still clung to the air like smoke after a fire.
Then—
"Your Majesty…"
The Royal Adviser Lord Arithor, stepped forward cautiously and bowed low. "Surely we must reconsider the wording of the proclamation."
Murmurs rose again, quieter than before—but edged with tension.
A duke leaned forward, fingers pressed flat against the obsidian table. "Reconsider? We were just confronted—threatened—in our own throne room."
"She did not threaten," another noble countered quickly. "She promised."
"And what," snapped a marquis, "is the difference?"
"A worldwide bounty on the Demon King's heir," the duke continued grimly, "and now the Queen of the Night Elves appears personally. If we do not retract our statement, we risk war."
"War?" someone scoffed. "With what army? The Night Elves are remnants of a fading race."
"Remnants," another noble muttered darkly, "but remnants of the Five."
That quieted the table at once.
Even the most prideful among them did not dismiss that title lightly.
All eyes shifted back to the throne.
King Theron had not moved. His hands rested calmly on the armrests, golden eyes steady and unreadable, as though he were observing a distant landscape rather than the fracture line of a potential war.
One of the senior advisers cleared his throat.
"Your Majesty, perhaps… we retract the bounty. Quietly. Allow the matter to fade. If the Night Elves take offense, it will complicate matters beyond measure."
Another shook his head sharply. "Retract the bounty? After announcing it to the entire world? That would be an admission of weakness."
"The Queen made it clear she will not tolerate reckless pursuit. If we press forward—"
"She will what?" the marquis barked. "Fight the Holy Empire alone?"
"Not alone," someone muttered under their breath.
The memory of shadow swallowing marble remained vivid.
The Royal Adviser stepped closer to the throne, lowering his voice.
"Sire… perhaps we retract the accusation toward the Night Elves specifically. Clarify that the High Elf acted independently. That would prevent escalation while preserving the hunt."
Silence.
The debate rose again—voices overlapping, fear and pride and political calculation colliding in a restless tide.
Finally—
"Enough."
The single word cut through the chamber like a drawn blade.
Silence fell instantly.
Theron rose slowly from his throne.
His expression remained composed—but his eyes were sharper now, their golden depths no longer distant.
"The bounty," he said evenly, "remains."
There was no hesitation.
A few nobles exhaled in quiet relief. Others stiffened.
"The child is the son of two calamities," Theron continued. "Whether he inherits their will or not, we cannot gamble the fate of the Empire on uncertainty."
He descended the steps of the throne platform, each footfall deliberate.
"But—"
He paused midway down the steps.
"We will retract the words directed at the Night Elves."
Several nobles blinked in surprise.
Theron's voice did not waver.
"The High Elf's actions will be declared independent. The Empire does not accuse the Night Elven race."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the great doors through which Ellen Nyxia had departed.
"As a descendant of the First Hero, it would be… distasteful to wage war against one of the few remaining among the Five."
A faint crease touched his brow.
"And against someone he once called comrade."
The advisers exchanged uneasy glances.
So her words had struck deeper than she allowed.
Theron continued walking until he stood at the head of the long table.
"The Empire has lost its Queen," he said quietly. "Thousands of soldiers lie buried without graves."
His voice did not rise—but it deepened.
"We cannot afford a second front."
A noble swallowed audibly.
"But we also cannot afford to ignore the heir of the Vampire King."
His gaze swept across every face at the table.
"Prepare a revised proclamation. Remove any implication of Night Elven conspiracy."
A pause.
"But double the intelligence network's efforts."
His eyes hardened.
"If the Queen intends to involve herself, then this is no longer merely a hunt."
The advisers straightened instinctively.
Theron's final words settled over the chamber like iron.
"It is a race."
---
Scene Shift
Night blanketed the ancient forest of the Night Elves.
Silver moonlight filtered through towering trees whose trunks were as wide as castle towers. Marble balconies curved outward from living wood, grown seamlessly from bark and branch, shaped not by chisel but by ancient magic.
On one such balcony stood Ellen Nyxia.
Her long white hair drifted lightly in the wind. Her silver eyes gazed toward the distant southern horizon—calm, unreadable.
Behind her stood Isaac, silent as ever, hands folded behind his back.
Alex stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Grandma… how was it? Did you get them to withdraw the bounty?"
Ellen did not turn.
"No."
The single word hung cold in the night air.
Alex blinked. "No?"
She stared at her grandmother's back.
"The one who stood in the royal chamber before the king," Ellen said calmly, "was only a shadow."
Isaac's eyes shifted slightly at that.
"The bounty still stands," Ellen continued. "The king agreed only to retract his words regarding the Night Elves. Nothing more."
Alex's breath caught.
"So Draven will still be hunted?" Her voice rose. "And the babies—Aunt Elliana had just given birth before she was killed. Now Draven and those children—three lives at stake!"
Her hands trembled.
"We can't just watch. We have to do something—"
"Nothing."
Ellen's voice cut through her like winter frost.
Alex froze.
"…Grandma?"
"We will do nothing," Ellen repeated.
Isaac finally turned his gaze fully toward her, though he remained silent.
"If we interfere further," Ellen continued, "we confirm the Empire's suspicions. We validate their accusation that the Night Elves stand with vampires."
Her silver eyes reflected the moonlight, sharp and distant.
"Elliana ceased to be part of this clan long ago. She chose her own path. She walked it willingly."
Her voice did not waver.
"And that path led her to its end."
Alex stared at her in disbelief.
"That path," Ellen said softly, "is the same one her children now walk."
Alex's eyes widened.
"What are you talking about, Grandma?"
Her jaw tightened.
"Are you serious? You're really not going to do anything? You're just going to let them be hunted?"
Her voice trembled now—not with fear, but with anger.
"They're your grandchildren!"
The forest seemed to grow quieter around them.
"You're going to watch as they're attacked? As they're chased across the world?"
Her fists shook at her sides.
"If it were me being hunted… would you also just watch?"
Silence.
The wind stirred Ellen's hair.
Slowly—finally—she turned.
Her silver eyes met Alex's.
There was no anger in them.
No softness, either.
"If it were you," Ellen said quietly, "I would ensure you were strong enough to survive it."
Alex's breath hitched.
"The world does not spare the weak," Ellen continued. "Not kings. Not heroes. Not even children."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"If Draven is to live… if those children are to live… then they must survive this without the Night Elves shielding them."
Isaac finally spoke, his voice low and measured.
"You believe interference will only make it worse."
Ellen nodded once.
"If we move openly, the Empire will respond openly."
Her eyes shifted toward the distant south.
"And Theron is not foolish enough to ignore that."
Alex's voice dropped to a whisper.
"So we just… abandon them?"
For the briefest moment, something flickered in Ellen's expression—so faint it might have been imagined.
"We do not abandon," she said.
"We refrain."
Alex shook her head, tears threatening but refusing to fall.
"That's the same thing."
Ellen stepped closer and placed a cool hand against Alex's cheek.
"If Draven falls because he is weak," she said softly, "then no amount of interference would have saved him."
Her voice lowered further.
"But if he survives…"
A faint, dangerous glint entered her silver eyes.
"…then the world will learn why ones blood should never be cornered."
The balcony fell silent once more.
Alex looked away—conflicted, furious, hurt.
Isaac watched both of them carefully, saying nothing.
Far beyond the ancient forest…
The hunt had already begun.