What felt like an hour of suffocating stillness had been no more than a handful of seconds. The chamber was silent, the air dense and heavy, as if even sound itself had been strangled. Every breath came shallow, restrained.
Subaru's gaze was fixed, unblinking, a deadly resolve that cut like a blade toward Raizen. Raizen's eyes, calm and unyielding, returned the stare without a ripple of change. At Subaru's side, Elorandir's hand still remained firm on his wrist, a quiet restraint carrying both authority and warning.
Morganya broke the silence, her voice sharp but controlled. "Subaru. Remove your feet from the table. And… temper yourself."
Her words rippled through the chamber. The leaders at the table gave nothing away, though some amusement glimmered in their eyes. Drakos leaned back with a silent, mocking laugh curling across his lips. Valdis shifted, his composure strained but intact. Verya and Chinonso both struggled, their bodies sagging beneath the weight of Subaru's aura as though burdened by invisible chains.
The aides suffered most. King Vareth's aide clutched his chest, gasping for air. Auren and Raphael trembled, their bodies seized in silent paralysis. Even faces seemed locked, glassy and wide. Only Elarenya remained untouched, her expression serene, her posture flawless.
The killing intent radiating from Subaru was a storm given shape, pressing against the very marrow of those within reach.
Raizen alone remained unmoved.
Subaru ignored Morganya entirely. His voice dropped low, the sound of a blade being drawn, each word laced with venom. "Let me give you a warning, Raizen. If you… or your entire bloodline… dares to raise a hand, or even a thought, against my family… until or after the day I draw my last breath, I promise you this: my family will destroy yours."
The words hung in the air like a curse.
Raizen's gaze did not flicker. His voice was calm, almost gentle in contrast. "I hope that day does not come."
The suffocating pressure snapped away, vanishing as swiftly as it had arrived. Across the chamber came a collective exhale, soft and ragged, as aides remembered how to breathe.
Elorandir's hand finally slipped from Subaru's wrist, though his eyes lingered, watchful.
"Subaru," Morganya said again, colder now, her authority sharpening. "Your foot."
Subaru sighed, the sound weary, as though the weight of her words pressed heavier than the stares of the room. With deliberate slowness, he sheathed his dagger, the faint click of steel echoing. "Shhss… you don't have to repeat yourself." He swung his leg down from the table, and Elorandir, sensing his intent, moved aside.
"Why would I not repeat myself?" Morganya pressed, irritation threading into her tone. "You, of all of us, know your past better than anyone. You allowed it to flare, here, of all places."
A hollow chuckle slipped from Subaru's lips, void of any warmth.
Vaelorian, ever the voice of reason, leaned forward slightly, his words steady. "She is right, Subaru. That slight should not have moved you. This summit is not a place for us to wage our own wars."
"Sure, sure, sure. Whatever you say," Subaru muttered, his voice dripping indifference. His eyes, however, cut back toward Raizen, the threat lingering like a shadow behind them. "But you, Raizen… you know what my family is capable of. So take my advice…keep your son in check."
Raizen's composure did not shift, his voice as placid as still water. "You should not trouble yourself with how I raise my family."
The tension did not vanish; it only smoldered, quieter but no less dangerous.
Elorandir's voice finally broke through, calm but resolute, seeking to ground the storm before it rose again. "Subaru. Kindly… have your seat."
"Yes, I will," Subaru said at last. He began to walk toward his seat, the scrape of his boots echoing faintly in the chamber's stillness. But halfway, he paused, his gaze sliding across the aides until it stopped on Raphael. His eyes lingered there for a heartbeat before turning, sharp as a blade, to Morganya.
"You know, Morganya…" His tone was deceptively casual as he lowered himself into his chair. "For a Supreme Witch who prides herself on discipline, on rules, on being untouchable… I never thought you would be the one to break one."
The words struck the table like a dropped stone.
For a fraction of a second, Morganya's composure faltered. Her hand, resting gracefully against the table, curled in the faintest motion. "What rules do you speak of, Subaru? What makes you so certain I have broken one?"
Subaru leaned back, his lips twisting into a low, humorless chuckle. "Oh… keeping secrets, are we?"
Before Morganya could answer, King Vareth's grin spread across his face like a crack in stone. "Now that… is interesting. A Supreme Witch, bound by her own laws… bending them? If that is true, it makes one wonder what would be worth such a price."
Subaru waved a hand dismissively, though the amusement never left his eyes. "No need to strain your minds. Sooner or later… everyone will know."
The unease around the table grew thicker, though he spoke with the lightness of someone discussing the weather.
Thorn's brows furrowed, concern darkening his expression. "Was it the thing you were speaking to me before?"
"Maybe," Subaru replied smoothly, the single word heavy with suggestion.
Thorn leaned forward slightly. "Then why reveal it now?"
Subaru tilted his head, feigning confusion, his face an infuriating mask of innocence. "Reveal what, exactly?"
Morganya's calm was slipping. Her voice, usually controlled, sharpened. "Subaru… enough games. Whatever you are implying, I know nothing of it."
He chuckled again, low and unbothered, clearly savoring her discomfort.
At the far side of the table, King Vareth's thoughts churned. What secret could shake her so? What knowledge is so dangerous it can make Morganya, of all people, lose her poise? His eyes narrowed, already calculating.
Elorandir, sensing the summit's balance tipping dangerously, clapped his hands once, the sound cutting through the tension like steel. "Thank you for your… efforts," he said evenly, drawing every gaze. "But can we now return to the matter at hand?"
The Saintess's voice followed, soft yet firm, grounding the room. "Yes. It will be better if we do. No more time should be wasted."
Morganya remained still, her mind whirling behind her steady expression. What does he know? What secret does he speak about…? The unease tightened in her chest, though she refused to let it show.
King Vareth cleared his throat, leaning forward. "Yes… before that interruption, we were discussing whether the sin of Greed has ties to the covenant."
"And I told you he does not," Subaru said flatly, the mirth gone from his tone.
"Then if he does not," the Saintess countered gently, "we must ask ourselves why. That is the true question. Why exclude Greed?" Her face swept the table, calm but piercing. "Perhaps it would serve us better to look at the covenant's patterns. Their movements, their purpose in gathering more followers and harvesting slaves. Each of us must consider if someone within our kingdoms harbors such practices. If so, we must act…decisively."
Her words lingered, sobering. The leaders exchanged measured glances, the gravity settling over them.
King Vareth was first to break the silence, his voice edged with practicality, though a careful caution underlay it. "That is a sound proposal. Then let us begin by addressing the goods tied to the covenant…the ones causing unrest within the dwarven kingdom."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Five minutes earlier, deep beneath Balmount, lay a prison that had long since become a grave. The air was thick, stagnant, and heavy, clinging to the lungs with every breath. The coppery stench of old blood lingered like a curse, mingling with the damp rot of stone and rust. The walls of the chamber were slick with grime, streaked with dark stains that whispered of horrors better left forgotten.
Rows of cages stretched across the dim corridors, their iron bars rusted, their chains ancient, yet still mercilessly strong. Within them, the prisoners of the Covenant bore silent witness to cruelty without end. Elves, their ears bound and their once-bright eyes dulled by sorrow, sat pressed together in huddled clusters. Beastkin, their fur matted and their bodies marred with bruises, were separated from one another as though even kinship was too dangerous to allow. Humans, gaunt and hollow-eyed, clung to one another in shivering silence, their shackles digging cruelly into their flesh.
In one cage, set apart from the rest, a small group suffered together. Kibo lay unconscious on the cold stone floor, his breath faint, his body chained with iron so heavy it seemed meant to break his spirit rather than hold him down. Close by, Syl, Lily, and Isilwen were also bound.
Syl sat rigid, her body coiled with unspoken tension, her mind a storm she could not silence. Questions circled endlessly, battering her with doubts she had no answers for. Why did it come to this? How could everything fall apart so quickly?
Beside her, Lily's eyes never left Kibo. She watched him with a look that was part terror, part devotion, her heart breaking with every shallow breath he drew. The pain of losing Ben was still raw, a wound that had not yet scabbed over, leaving her with no strength for comforting words.
The silence of the prison was absolute, a void that pressed on the soul. None of the prisoners could call for help. They had learned too well that their cries brought only torment.
Isilwen sat with her knees drawn close, her gaze flicking toward Syl and Lily, then back down again. Her heart was a crushing weight of guilt, gnawing with each beat. Rage at herself, at fate, at the gods even, filled her until she thought she might burst. If I had never crossed their path, they would not be here. If not for me, they would still be free.
She thought of Ben's mother, of her sliced body, and of Veyron's laughter as he mocked her death. The memory was a knife that carved through her chest. Gathering what courage she had left, she spoke, her voice barely more than a quiver of air.
"I am so sorry."
Syl and Lily turned their eyes toward her, startled from their own silence. Lily's voice was soft, tender despite the sharpness of her grief. "No, Isilwen. This isn't your fault. You cannot carry this weight alone."
But Isilwen shook her head, tears brimming. "I am sorry," she whispered again, the words breaking apart as her throat closed. "If it were not for me, none of you would have fallen into my troubles."
Syl studied her, her voice quieter, steadier, though there was an edge to it. "Why would you believe this is your fault?"
"Because you met me," Isilwen answered, and a single tear traced a slow path down her pale cheek. Her eyes burned with despair as she whispered, "I am sorry."
Her words sank into the silence, heavy and merciless.
Then, suddenly, laughter split the air—loud, cruel, echoing off the walls like jagged steel. The metallic screech of a heavy door groaned open, flooding the corridor with a draft of colder air.
Veyron stepped into view, his boots striking against the stone with deliberate leisure. His smile was wide, his tone falsely sweet as he spread his arms.
"Oh, what is this?" he asked, his voice mocking cheer. "Such long faces. Is this how you welcome your guest? Can't you all smile for me?"
No one answered. Not a single prisoner moved. They had learned silence was safer than defiance.
Veyron's grin deepened as he drank in their fear. He strolled down the corridor, his eyes scanning the cages like a merchant appraising his wares. He stopped at the one holding Syl, Lily, Kibo and Isilwen. Both Syl and Lily stared back, their eyes burning with loathing so fierce it almost seemed to scorch the air between them.
"Why the hatred?" he asked, tilting his head with mock curiosity. "You glare at me as if I am the villain in this little story of yours." He chuckled, low and amused. "Shall I tell you what I might do with you?"
His gaze flicked across their faces, savoring their stillness.
"I could sell you," he mused, his tone light, almost playful, though his words dripped venom. "A few wealthy nobles would pay handsomely for faces like yours."
He let the words hang for a moment, then slowly turned his attention to Kibo. His smile shifted, darker now, his eyes narrowing with cruel consideration.
"Or perhaps…" he said softly, almost to himself, "I might break you. Twist your minds until you forget who you are, until you kneel willingly at my feet. Imagine it…my loyal hounds, carved from such defiance. Yes… it would suit you all perfectly."
Lily stiffened, her body trembling, but her hand instinctively shifted, moving to shield Kibo as though her touch alone could protect him from Veyron's gaze.
Veyron's smile widened at the gesture, delighting in her helplessness.
"What do you want with Isilwen?" Syl's voice trembled, caught between rage and desperation. Her chains rattled as she leaned forward, eyes blazing protectively toward Isilwen.
Veyron threw his head back and let out a loud, theatrical laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls like jagged steel. "Oh, I like that question. Such fire in your voice. Fine, I will answer." He leaned closer to the bars, his grin stretching unnaturally wide. "That elf girl… will be used for a sacrifice... so as with all the elves in this very room"
The words cut through the silence like a blade of ice.
Before Syl or Lily could respond, the very ground beneath them groaned. A deep rumble shook the chamber, making dust and gravel rain down from the ceiling. The air grew thick with grit as the prison itself seemed to tremble in dread.
Lily's head snapped upward, her breath catching. "What was that?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Veyron didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed again, this time with genuine delight, his eyes gleaming with wicked anticipation. "Oh, has it already begun? Without me?"
Syl's heart pounded in her chest. She looked from the shaking ceiling back to him. "What is happening?" Lily demanded, her voice breaking in fear.
"What else?" Veyron spread his arms wide as though welcoming the destruction. "The end of Balmount Kingdom."
"The end?" Syl's words came out strangled, disbelief painted across her face. "My father… the King… he will not allow such a thing to happen!"
Veyron stopped dead in his tracks, his grin faltering into something sharper. He turned to Syl with a predator's stillness. "Your father?" His eyes narrowed, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. "Do my ears deceive me… or have I just stumbled upon something far more valuable than I thought?"
His smile returned, wolfish now. "So this girl with fire in her eyes is a princess." He leaned closer, his gaze traveling over her face. "And yes… now that you mention it, you do look quite a lot like Morganna. But you poor thing…" He chuckled darkly. "Your father is not in the kingdom. Not now."
Syl's mind reeled. What? Papa… not here? Why? The ground beneath her certainty crumbled, leaving her hollow.
"Foolish girl," Veyron said, savoring the turmoil in her eyes.
"I am sure the Queen will stop you!" Lily screamed, her voice breaking with both fear and defiance.
Veyron's expression twisted, his grin collapsing into a look of pure disgust. "The Queen? You mean that fragile fool who gave up her duty… all for the sake of a man? That is your great hope?"
"She is not a fool!" Syl cried, her chains rattling violently as her rage boiled over. Her throat ached with the force of her words. "She is strong, stronger than you will ever know! She can still protect the kingdom!"
Veyron tilted his head, his voice dropping into a sickening calm. "Now, now. Why such fire in your tone, princess?" His smile curved back, slow and deliberate. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps your mother still has strength. But even the strongest cannot stop what is already moving into place." He let the silence hang for a beat before leaning against the iron bars. His eyes glittered with cruelty as he whispered, "And let me tell you something far more precious…"
His hand closed around one of the bars, metal groaning under his grip. His gaze locked onto Syl. "Knowing you are Morganna's daughter, you, my princess, will be the perfect instrument to break her. Imagine her face… when she sees her own child shattered before her eyes. Oh, your body…"
The words slithered through the room like poison. Then the atmosphere shifted.
A crushing, suffocating weight pressed down from nowhere, filling the air with pure, choking darkness. It seeped into the stone itself, forcing a gasp from every prisoner. Some slumped unconscious where they sat, their will collapsing under the pressure.
Veyron froze, his triumphant mask cracking. His smile faltered, then broke entirely as a shudder racked his frame. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned his head.
Behind him, Vielwalker stood. His face was carved into a smile too deep, too knowing, too wrong.
Veyron's confidence shattered in an instant, replaced by a raw, desperate terror. The oppressive aura thickened, making even his breath falter.
Syl, Lily, and Isilwen clutched at their chests, gasping for air. Their wide, tear-brimmed eyes locked on the figure now standing in the corridor.
Vielwalker's presence was like staring into the abyss itself.
"Vielwalker," Veyron managed, his voice strained, the edges fraying with barely hidden fear. "What a… surprise, seeing you here."
"Why would I not be here?" Vielwalker's tone was calm, yet within it was a coldness that reached into the marrow. His words slid into the room like knives. "You are slacking. Not working when you should be working."
Veyron's mind spun in panic. The pressure… it is crushing me already. His body quivered despite his best effort to remain composed. He forced a weak laugh that cracked midway. "Why don't you tune it down… just a little? You could kill someone in here."
The Vielwalker paused. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, the suffocating aura vanished. The room stilled as though nothing had happened. Slaves collapsed against their cages, gasping like drowning men brought to the surface. Syl, Lily, and Isilwen fell forward, clutching their chests, their lungs dragging in precious air.
"I did not notice," Vielwalker said. His smile deepened, curving into something that was far from kind. "I am so sorry."
Veyron swallowed hard and scrambled to reassemble his composure. His lips twitched into a crooked grin. "Well, then…"
"Now, Veyron." Vielwalker's voice cut across his. It was smooth, but heavy with finality. "What are you doing down here?"
"Just… counting how many slaves we have," Veyron said quickly, his eyes flicking toward the cages. His words felt thin, brittle in the silence. "Mostly the elves. You know how it is. We need to make sure there are enough for the ritual."
A sound rumbled from Vielwalker's chest. A low, grinding chuckle, like stone grinding on stone. "Count or no counting. Even if there were three elves, the ritual could still work."
Then why put me through all this trouble? Veyron thought bitterly.
"Did you say something?" Vielwalker's voice sliced through the air, colder than a grave.
Veyron flinched, panic snapping his head up. "No! No, I never said anything!" His words tumbled out, frantic.
"I thought I heard you." Vielwalker's smile had vanished now, his gaze sinking into Veyron like ice. "But it matters little. There will be no need to count the elves. Everything you are doing here is pointless." He stepped closer, his presence swallowing the room once more. "If you want to be useful, there is a maid in the kingdom… a nuisance that should be dealt with."
Syl and Lily's eyes met instantly, terror and recognition flashing between them. Aunt Sora.
Veyron latched onto the words like a drowning man. "Just that?" His voice steadied, though the tremor had not fully left it. "The henchmen can take care of her."
Vielwalker's hand extended and rested on Veyron's shoulder. The touch was deceptively light, yet Veyron's entire body shuddered violently, as though venom had seeped into his veins.
"You know those ones cannot do much." Vielwalker's voice lowered into something almost intimate, yet more terrifying than a scream. "Besides… you will like it. I promise."
Veyron stared into the abyss of Vielwalker's eyes, desperate to find even a flicker of deceit. There was none. Only emptiness. A void that reflected nothing back. His stomach twisted, but he forced a grin. "Why don't I check it out myself, then?"
"I agree," Vielwalker said softly, removing his hand at last.
Veyron turned sharply, eager to escape the weight crushing his soul. He strode toward the steel door, never daring to glance back at the girls. With a heavy thud, the door sealed behind him.
Silence fell again, a silence that was not peace but dread. The only sound was the ragged, trembling breaths of the prisoners.
Syl's thoughts swirled in confusion and fear. Who is this man? What is he really?
Vielwalker moved slowly, his steps echoing against the stone floor. He stopped at their cage. His gaze slid past Syl and Isilwen, fastening instead on Lily.
The corners of his mouth curved into a slow, warm smile.
"It is good to see you… Eris."