The thirteen elder Fae sat in a circle of moon-carved thrones, their robes glittering like stars, though their faces were drawn and full of worry.
The council chamber was warm with sunlight but the air itself felt cold. Heavy.
Whispers swirled like smoke.
"The mark of Maelor…" Elder Sarab, one of the oldest among them, leaned forward, her silver brows furrowed. Her voice cut through the murmurs. "Are you certain of this, Prince Riven?"
Riven's fingers curled against the polished surface of the council table. His jaw was tight. "We've seen it. With our own eyes."
Across the table, Lord Aeren sat, present in body, but his mind? Gone. His golden gaze stared blankly ahead, unfocused. He hadn't spoken since they entered, as his mind was still replaying his actions with Kaela.
He had touched her face, and the more the realization came to mind, the more he wished to vanish from the hall.
The other lords were present as well. Lady Nythera sat beside Lady Syreine, both their gazes sharp.
Lord Thandor leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. "But how does it make sense for the mark to appear now?"
"It makes perfect sense," spat Elder Deryn, eyes glowing faintly. "His magic never truly faded. If it has found a host—"
"Or hosts," Elder Vael cut in darkly.
"—then we must act swiftly. Root it out before it spreads."
"And how do we do that?" Nythera asked, raising a brow. "There is no clear path. No trail. And Prince Riven already killed the host."
"Perhaps not," Sarab said, her tone laced with steel, "but we know what his presence means. If he is lurking among us, we must cleanse this court before rot spreads. We start with the most vulnerable—"
"You don't mean—" Nythera's voice sharpened.
"The humans," Sarab said plainly. "They are weak. Easy to manipulate. If Maelor wants vessels, he will not take the strong. He'll take the desperate. The broken. The afraid."
Across the room, murmurs of agreement followed her.
Riven's lips parted, his crown contracting, but before he could say a word, the doors creaked open.
General Tharos strode in, his steps echoing loudly in the silence. His dark cloak swirled behind him, and he wore a smirk as though he had just returned from battle with blood still on his sword.
"My lords," he said with a bow that lacked sincerity. "Apologies for the interruption."
"Where were you?" Riven's voice cracked through the chamber, sharp and immediate. His eyes were blazing with anger.
Tharos glanced at him with that same smug ease. "I was handling something… urgent."
Daelen's eyes narrowed. "What sort of urgent matter?"
Tharos only shrugged. "Nothing you need trouble yourselves with. A disobedient servant. And I already handled."
Riven's stare could've pierced steel. "You're meant to report every disciplinary measure to the council. Or has that rule changed?"
Tharos ignored him.
"Enough," Sarab said, raising a hand. "We have more pressing matters. If the mark of Maelor is here, then our wards failed. That is not a coincidence."
"So what do you propose?" Deryn asked.
"A full enhancement of our security measures. Ancient magic. Every door, every corridor. Spell detection, soul-weighing, illusion-breakers. Whatever it takes."
"And the humans?" someone asked again.
"We leave them," Nythera snapped. "For now. Any rash move, any attempt to slaughter them, will spark rebellion, maybe worse. We have come too far to regress."
"Then we act quietly," Elder Vael muttered. "And quickly."
The decision was made. Plans were whispered. Guards summoned. Magic layered like fine fabric over every inch of the palace.
But Prince Riven remained still as stone, his jaw clenched.
~
Later that evening, storm clouds gathered beyond the palace walls. The sky darkened too early, casting the towers in grey shadows.
In his chamber, Prince Riven sat alone. The fire burned low in the hearth, throwing flickers of gold against the carved walls. He didn't move, just stared into the flames.
Maelor.
The brother of Elya. A god of decay, of vengeance, of ancient ruin.
It didn't make sense.
His magic was supposed to have been stripped, sealed away into the Void. Into shadow. Into nothing.
So how… how was it marking people now?
Unless it never left.
He raked a hand through his dark hair and exhaled. The crown of thorns sat in his other hand, pulsing faintly. He stared at it, jaw tight, thoughts drifting.
Perhaps a ride would clear his head. Shadowmare had grown restless in the last few days, same as he.
And then… Kaela. The human.
A flicker of her face passed through his mind, uninvited. Was she resting? Had she found out about Sera's death?
He cursed beneath his breath and closed his hand tighter around the crown.
A knock sounded once. Then the door creaked open without permission.
Riven didn't look up.
"Must you be such a nuisance to me?" he muttered.
"Yes," said a voice, light and smooth. "I am your younger brother for a reason."
Riven turned slowly.
Cael.
His brother leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, mischief in his eyes. As always, he looked unbothered by the weight of the world. Riven sometimes wondered if anything ever touched him. Or if he even had a soul left.
"What do you want?" Riven asked flatly.
Cael tilted his head. "Just came to say… your friend Lord Aeren's been awfully quiet lately."
Riven raised an eyebrow. "He just witnessed Maelor's mark. We all did. Forgive him if he isn't dancing in the halls."
"Mm." Cael smirked. "But that's not all, is it? He's… behaving."
"Behaving? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, he has been staying out of your way. Oddly calm."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"
"Oh, nothing." Cael's grin deepened. "Just saying. He seems to be making progress."
"With what?"
Cael gave him a long, smug look. "With Kaela."
Something sharp twisted in Riven's chest.
He didn't show it.
Instead, he scoffed, cold and sharp. "You're a fool."
"Am I?"
"You are. I have no use for this information."
Cael pushed off the doorframe and walked further in. "Really, brother?"
Riven stood, finally meeting his brother's gaze. "If you came here to gossip like an old fool, get out."
Cael laughed softly. "Tell me," Riven sneered. "What exactly do you expect Aeren to do? Fall in love with a copy of Elya and run off into the mortal lands? And how do you expect me to react? With my eyes filled with tears?"
"No," Cael said with a shrug. "But you have to admit, it's deeply entertaining. Besides… I thought you were the one watching her."
Riven stiffened.
Cael's smirk returned. "Exactly."
He turned on his heel and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" Riven snapped.
"Important matters," Cael called over his shoulder. "Farewel brother."
And then he was gone.
Riven stood alone in the firelight, shadows crawling up the walls. His fists clenched slowly at his sides.