The room was drowned in shadows, the only light a faint red glow from a cracked crystal hanging above. A round stone table sat at the center, scarred with claw marks and old burns. Eleven cloaked figures sat around it—five on each side, and one at the head.
The leader leaned back in his chair, tall frame hidden, only the outline of his jaw sharp against the glow. His presence pressed on everyone, quiet but heavy. He didn't need a name—his aura alone screamed command.
On the left, five women sat. On the right, five men.
The first to speak was a woman with long, glossy nails tapping lazily against the table. Her cloak slipped slightly, revealing the curve of a smirk and eyes that gleamed purple. Her voice was thick, sultry, dragging on every word.
