The council chamber of Calven's Rest was a dome of polished obsidian and gold-veined marble, once meant to inspire unity. Today, it echoed with rising voices and clashing ideals.
Lord Varen stood at its center, draped in dark regalia embroidered with silver talons—the mark of his house. His voice, usually measured, rang sharp through the chamber. "You speak of balance, yet let monsters roam unchecked! Aether distortion grows across the provinces, and still you entertain alliances with Mythforged like Alaric."
Councilor Elirien, an old woman with a staff of shimmering crystal, raised her hand. "We do not entertain him. We need him. If the Voidbinders are truly what you claim, Lord Varen, then warriors like Alaric are not a threat—they are our last line."
Varen scoffed. "You give too much to an unstable force. That boy carries destruction in his wake. Wherever he walks, disaster follows. You've all seen the reports—Maeryn still lives, and she's fused with a Titan fragment. You think this Alaric will stop her? Or join her?"
The chamber fell silent.
In the gallery above, cloaked figures watched. Maeryn's agents. The Voidbinders were already here, gathering intel, marking exits. And one among them bore a concealed voidcrystal—primed to unleash a controlled rift if the vote didn't go in their favor.
Meanwhile, across the highlands, Alaric trained with Kael and Lysera in the wind-carved plains of Skyreach. The sky cracked with distant thunder as Kael tested the limits of his Thundercore—summoning spears of lightning that curved with his thoughts.
"Not bad," Alaric said, grinning as he deflected one of Kael's bolts with a slab of conjured stone from his own dual-core. His Fire-Stone synthesis glowed in his chest, rippling molten light through his veins.
Kael smirked. "You're just mad I'm louder now."
Lysera, sitting atop a boulder with her glaive resting across her lap, laughed. "You two can flirt with power all day, but the Council's already gathering. Word is, Lord Varen plans to move against the Mythforged in open court."
Alaric's expression darkened.
"He wants me isolated," he muttered. "Without council support, it'll be open season on anyone aligned with our cause."
Kael wiped sweat from his brow. "Let's crash the party."
"No," Lysera said firmly, "we do this smart. If Maeryn is behind this escalation, we need proof. And we need allies."
Alaric nodded. "Then we split up. I'll head to Calven. Kael, go east—find the elemental orders and warn them. Lysera, see if the Arcanists still honor the Treaty of Brael."
"And what if Maeryn strikes while we're apart?" Kael asked.
Alaric's eyes burned faintly. "Then we show her that we're no longer the ones being hunted."
Beneath the city, Maeryn stood within a cavern of glassy voidstone, her hand resting on a sarcophagus forged from Titan bone. The power radiating from it pulsed in tandem with her corrupted core.
"She's ready," the Voidbinder acolyte whispered behind her.
Maeryn didn't respond at first. Her expression was distant, haunted, but resolute.
"Let the Council tear itself apart," she said. "When they beg for peace, we'll give them silence. Then ruin."