The Everhour Chamber
The air in the Everhour Chamber was a cold, suffocating silence after Thorn's outburst. The chamber itself seemed to hum faintly, as if echoing the weight of words spoken within.
Raizen sighed, the sound dragging like a tired hiss through the heavy stillness. "Thorn… you did not have to say that."
"Say what?" Thorn's voice was rough gravel, his glare sharp as a blade. He turned his eyes directly to Morganya, who sat motionless, refusing to meet his gaze. "I did not lie. Or did I, witch?"
Morganya's fingers tapped once against the table, but she said nothing. Her silence was deliberate, a weapon sharper than retort.
"Alright, Thorn, that is enough," Subaru cut in quickly, his tone carrying strained patience, the sound of someone trying to hold together fraying ropes. "She heard you. Let us return to the matter at hand before this spirals further."
King Vareth gave a slight smile, folding his hands before him. His voice flowed with practiced calm, the polished tone of a ruler who always wished to sound above the storm. "I agree. Passion blinds. Reason must guide us here."
"Agree to what?" Thorn snapped, his tone biting. He leaned forward, his voice rumbling through the chamber. "All this talk of the Bloodbound Covenant, and yet you still clutch secrets like a miser clutching coin."
Vareth gave a light, patronizing chuckle, his expression carefully composed. "Secrets? I do not know what you mean, King Thorn. I have shared every piece of knowledge I hold. If it does not satisfy, perhaps the fault lies in your hunger, not in my words."
Thorn's hand curled into a fist. "You mock me again. You speak like a serpent, words smooth enough to choke on, while giving nothing of worth."
Before Thorn could rise further, Vaelorian's voice cut through the chamber. It was not loud, but it carried a weight that commanded silence. "Enough, Thorn." His eyes held Thorn in place before shifting toward Vareth. "And you. Stop wrapping emptiness in silk."
He let the silence stretch, then added with calm steel, "Thorn is right. Whatever you have given us is little. And little is not enough, not now."
Thorn scoffed, the sound rough and bitter. "Fine. What I've uncovered in my kingdom is exactly what we all suspect. They are evil. Wicked. They are gathering slaves, drawing more followers by the day."
Morganya tilted her head slightly, her voice a low, dangerous hum that seemed to vibrate through the chamber. "And what have you done to stop them, Thorn?"
Thorn's fists tightened at the sound of her voice, his knuckles pale with strain. For a moment it seemed he might lash out, but he forced his composure, his words sharp and measured. "What I have done, or not done, is not your concern, witch. I know what must be done to protect my kingdom. The question is how you intend to protect yours, knowing their cult might already be festering within everyone's borders."
Vaelorian's calm voice cut through, steady as stone. "They are not in mine, from what I know. But that does not mean I will overlook their rise. We must decide what to do about the Covenant before their shadow spreads further."
Before his words could settle, King Vareth leaned forward, his tone slicing in like a polished blade. "And what makes you so sure they are not in your kingdom?"
"I know what happens within my lands," Vaelorian replied, his calm unwavering, though beneath it the air seemed to thicken, heavy with restrained fury.
Elarenya, seated beside him, stiffened. Her hands pressed into her lap, her breath quickening. "Brother… please, do not lose yourself to his taunts."
Vareth's laughter broke the stillness, cold and hollow, echoing in the chamber like iron striking stone. "It is amusing. Truly hilarious. You boast of knowing your kingdom, when even now your people are being stolen, shackled, and sold into slavery."
The chamber froze in silence. The accusation hung thick in the air, heavy as a death sentence. Every eye turned toward Vaelorian, waiting.
Raizen groaned, his voice strained with irritation. "Vareth, this is not a game. Enough of this."
"Oh, but it is not a claim," Vareth replied smoothly, his lips curling into a smile that carried venom. "It is fact."
Vaelorian's gaze sharpened, his composure unshaken, though the air around him pulsed with a quiet rage. "And how would you know such a thing?"
Vareth leaned back, savoring the moment. "I had hoped to tell you privately, but since you press the matter…" He paused, letting silence stretch like a taut string. "Your kin are in my lands. I have already apprehended the traffickers behind their chains."
Morganya's eyes narrowed. "And are they part of the Covenant?"
"Apparently not," Vareth answered lightly. His gaze slid back to Vaelorian, a condescending smirk tugging at his lips. "So, Vaelorian… as an act of kindness, I will be sending your battered elves back to you."
Elarenya's breath caught, her hand trembling against the armrest. "Our people… taken, broken. I wonder what your descion will be on it brother."
Vaelorian bowed his head slightly, his voice low but steady. "Then… I thank you."
Subaru sighed, his voice carrying both weariness and frustration. "So that is it? After all this talk, we still have nothing concrete on the Covenant?"
The Saintess finally spoke. Her voice was soft, yet it carried a haunting chill that silenced the chamber. "I cannot be certain… but should we not be looking to one hand guiding all this? One mind, pulling every thread?"
Her words fell like a stone into deep waters, the ripples unsettling every heart around the table.
Vareth's smirk faded into something sharper, more deliberate. He nodded slowly. "Yes. The one person brilliant enough, manipulative enough, to twist kingdoms into ruin. Who else than…One of the Seven Deadly Sins."
The silence tightened, every breath in the room caught in expectation.
Raizen's voice broke through at last, low and heavy with grim certainty. "The Sin of Greed."
~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the Cottage
The sun was a pale gold on the horizon, its light spilling through the kitchen window in long, broken shafts, painting stripes across the worn wooden table. The air carried the smell of steaming porridge and the faint, earthy sweetness of the forest just beyond the walls.
Lily moved through the kitchen with quiet grace, each step soft as though she feared to disturb the peace. The sound of the wooden ladle scraping against the pot was steady, almost like a heartbeat. At the dining table, Kibo and Syl sat opposite one another, their conversation a thread that tugged at the silence. Beneath the table, Ben was nothing more than a small, furry shadow, his soft snoring a gentle counterpoint to the tension in the room.
"So she just left?" Syl's voice broke the quiet, soft but edged with disappointment. Her eyes lowered, tracing the wood grain on the table. "Without saying why she was going to see Uncle Bram?"
Kibo exhaled slowly, the sigh heavy, as though it carried more than his lungs could hold. "Yeah… that's all she said."
Syl's fingers drummed once against the table before curling into a fist. "And you couldn't press her for details?" Her voice wavered with frustration, though it was clear the worry beneath it ran deeper. "Or at least ask when she'd be back?"
Kibo shook his head, his eyes dim with something unspoken. "Syl, no. I couldn't." The words were tired, surrendering.
Syl's shoulders slumped, the weight of helplessness dragging her down.
At that moment, Lily entered the room, her figure carrying a fragile brightness. In her hands she balanced two plates, with a third resting carefully atop her head. The soft clinking of spoons on porcelain filled the silence with a hint of warmth.
"Oh, Syl, I'm sure we can still have fun!" Lily said gently, her voice light as she placed the plates on the table. "Even if we don't know when she'll be back… also, why don't you keep practicing with the little ani…"
Syl cut her off by lifting the plate from her head, her movements slow and deliberate. She set it down on the table with a soft thud. "We can't have fun," she whispered, her tone subdued but firm. "Not when we'll be constantly wondering when she'll return."
Kibo's hands closed around his plate, though his eyes drifted far away, caught in a space between thought and ache.
Hmm…
"That's right, brat," Ignis sneered in the depths of his mind. "Tell the girl she needs to be strong. For all we know, she's still practically useless. A child with a weapon, not a warrior. A burden."
Kibo's jaw tensed. "You can't just call her useless at every chance you get." He ignored the way Syl and Lily carried on with their small chatter about what creatures Syl might try speaking to again.
"Chance? The only chance worth mentioning is the one that will get her killed. She needs to be prepared, to protect herself from real danger. 'At her own pace'? That's the kind of foolishness that gets people slaughtered. She has power, but she isn't really a fighter. She is a liability waiting to happen."
Kibo's gaze softened as he looked at them, their faces bright with curiosity and innocence. "I know. I know she will grow. She'll get better… at her own pace. Not everyone can grasp things at a run".
Ignis's voice was cold, merciless. "Brat, I don't care if she learns slowly. Stop this pathetic pampering and whatever flimsy affection you cling to. She has a power that should be forced out now. Do you want her blood on your hands when she meets someone stronger? She's a fool who doesn't even realize her own strength."
Kibo sighed, his chest heavy with the suffocating weight of the war inside him.
"Kibo, aren't you going to eat?" Lily's gentle voice cut through, pulling him back into the fragile light of the room.
He looked at her, then at his food, his spoon untouched.
Syl, already eating, glanced up. "Leave him be, Lily. Maybe he just isn't hungry." Her voice was steady, though a flicker of concern softened her eyes.
"Really, Kibo?" Lily leaned forward, her face full of worry, her hands pressing on the edge of the table.
"No, no, no." Kibo raised the spoon quickly, as if caught in guilt, and forced a mouthful of porridge. The bland taste barely touched his tongue, his gaze fixed on nothing.
"And what are the odds she'll even meet a strong opponent?" The thought came sharp and sarcastic, a deliberate jab at Ignis.
"Brat!" Ignis's voice flared in his mind, hot and savage. "Do not take this as a joke! That girl must become stronger, and your so-called lover should be able to defend herself as well. A hero's foolishness will carve their own grave."
Kibo swallowed hard, the food dragging down his throat like a stone. "Ignis… he really needs to stop. He worries too much. Syl and Lily are fine. They will grow, but in their own time. That is how it should be."
The room settled into the soft rhythm of clinking spoons and quiet chewing, the silence thick but oddly fragile.
Kibo finally broke it, his voice low but carrying. "You know… why don't I join you both in your little experiment?"
Syl's spoon paused halfway to her lips. "Uhm… okay," she said, her tone touched with surprise.
Lily blinked, then giggled with a flutter of relief. "You silly, why are you even asking?"
"I have to ask. It is called courtesy," Kibo replied, and for the first time that morning, a genuine, if small, smile reached his lips.
Syl raised an eyebrow, her expression half amusement, half challenge. "Courtesy? Kibo, we live in the same house. You can always join us… especially when it's about training."
Kibo's smile widened, faint warmth breaking through the shadows of his thoughts.
And then it came. A deep, guttural growl shook through the floorboards, the sound primal and unsettling. The wooden spoons clattered against the plates as they were dropped.
Ben jolted awake, his little body rigid with alarm. A sharp, whiny grunt burst from him before he bolted, claws skittering against the floor as he rushed down the hallway.
"Ben, where are you going?" Syl cried, already pushing back her chair to chase after him.
"Syl, wait!" Kibo shot to his feet, urgency roughening his voice. "It could be dangerous!"
"Don't worry, Kibo!" Lily called over her shoulder, darting after Syl with quick, fearless steps. "It sounded like Ben's mother!"
Kibo let out a low sigh, the sound heavy with resignation. "Even though…" His words faded as the tension hung in the air.
"Brat, you cannot even keep the girls in check," Ignis hissed, sharp as steel in his mind.
"And what would you have me do, oh wise one?" Kibo bit back silently.
"First, you and the girls should keep your weapons within reach. That is how warriors live. That is how survivors act. You are all too soft. Too trusting."
Kibo's face hardened, his features etched into a grim mask. "I know… they will keep their weapons close. They must."
Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek tore through the air, cutting like glass.
"Kibo!" Syl's scream rang from the backyard.
The sound jolted him, cold fear flooding his veins. He was out the door in an instant, his heart hammering, feet pounding against the earth. He burst into the yard, breath sharp, and froze. The sight before him struck like a blow to the chest.
Lily knelt on the ground, cradling an elf girl in her arms. The girl's body was limp, shivering weakly as if her very strength had been stripped away. Ben pressed close to his mother, the towering Ironfur bear whose low rumble shook the air with warning. Syl was on her knees, her palms glowing with soft healing light, her face pale with focus.
Lily's eyes lifted to Kibo's, wide and trembling, carrying a plea she could not put into words.
"An elf?" Kibo breathed, his voice half question, half disbelief.
"Oh, for the love of… another stray?" Ignis spat in his mind, the words dripping with disgust.