Chapter 276 — The Council's Judgment
The council chamber glowed with torchlight, shadows stretching long across the stone walls. The Hollow's leaders sat or stood around the great oak table, eyes locked on the young daemon woman who stood in the center. Seliora kept her hands folded neatly in front of her, her golden eyes steady even beneath the weight of so many stares.
Kael leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. He had convened them quickly, knowing hesitation would breed suspicion in the Hollow. Best to face the storm head-on.
"Her name is Seliora of the Veydran," Kael began, his voice carrying over the murmurs. "She came of her own accord, asking to stay. She claims she can offer our Hollow tutelage in mana and spellcraft."
Rogan snorted, folding his arms. "That's assuming she's telling the truth."
"She hasn't lied yet," Azhara said softly, though her gaze never left the girl.
"Yet," Varik repeated flatly, his tone sharp as a blade.
Zerathis shifted in the shadows at the far side of the chamber. His glowing eyes narrowed, his voice low but commanding. "You claim to be of the Veydran line," he rumbled, speaking directly to Seliora. "Then riddle me this — how did you escape the daemon realm? None walk free from it unless the lords will it. And the Veydran were loyal once."
The tension in the room deepened. All eyes turned to Seliora.
Her amber gaze flickered, but her voice did not waver. "The Veydran no longer hold their station. My kin are scattered, their allegiances shattered. I escaped during a purge — a slaughter of clans beneath the lords' heel. I ran, I hid, and I clawed my way through a gate while the world burned behind me."
A hush fell across the chamber. Even Rogan shifted uncomfortably at the raw steel in her words.
Zerathis tilted his head, his gaze unblinking. "If you speak truth, then you are rarer than any relic. Few ever flee their leash. And rarer still are those who dare present themselves openly."
Lyria finally spoke, her tone cool. "And that makes her dangerous. We've already taken one upper daemon into our fold. To add another—" she cast a sharp look at Kael "—is no small risk."
"She came here of her own will," Kael reminded, voice calm but firm. "Not bound. Not chained. That alone deserves to be heard."
"She deserves steel through her ribs," Rogan muttered, though not loud enough to carry.
Thalos adjusted his staff, his tone measured. "If she speaks the truth of her lineage, then her knowledge would be invaluable. Spellcraft, mana-weaving, the old ways… I have some knowledge, but compared to the Veydran? A candle beside the sun."
"She could be lying," Varik pressed. His sharp eyes pinned Seliora as though searching for cracks in her mask. "Her words are clever, practiced. Perhaps she's trained in deception."
"Or perhaps she is exactly what she claims to be," Azhara countered. "Her aura is unlike anything I've felt in centuries. I don't think she fabricates this."
The debate spiraled — suspicion clashing with hope, pragmatism with paranoia. Through it all, Seliora stood still, unflinching, as if enduring a trial she had expected.
Finally, Zerathis's low voice cut through the din. "The Veydran are no minor clan. Their bloodlines are steeped in magic, their art refined over millennia. If she carries that legacy, she is worth more than half your armories. And if she does not, then I will be the first to tear her throat out."
The chamber fell silent at the sheer bluntness of the daemon's words. Kael's jaw tightened, but his eyes softened, studying Seliora.
"She came here of her own accord," he said at last, rising to his feet. "That tells me something. She fled power and fear to come here, to us. And while trust is not given freely in this council, neither should it be withheld without cause. So here is what I propose."
His gaze swept across the chamber, steady and commanding.
"She will work under Thalos. Probationary. She will teach, she will prove her knowledge, and she will be watched closely. If she falters, if she deceives us, she will answer to me."
Murmurs rippled, but none spoke against him.
Kael's voice hardened. "We demand loyalty from all who enter the Hollow. If she came seeking a place, then she will earn it by deeds, not words."
Seliora finally bowed her head, her amber eyes flickering with something between relief and solemnity. "I accept your terms."
The torches flickered, casting long shadows as Kael's words sealed her fate. For now, Seliora had a place in the Hollow — not as a trusted ally, but as one who would prove herself, step by step.
And for the first time in centuries, the blood of the Veydran would shape the path of mortals once more.
The council chamber was heavy with silence. Torches flickered against the stone walls, and the air seemed to buzz with unease. At the center stood the stranger — a young woman, no more than twenty-two by appearance, though the aura that clung to her suggested something far older. Her golden eyes held steady, unflinching, as the council studied her like wolves circling prey.
"You heard of us," Kael said, his tone quiet but sharp. "That much is clear. What's less clear is how."
The girl — Seliora, she had named herself — lifted her chin. "Rumors spread far and fast, even in lands untouched by your Hollow. I followed whispers of daemons. Whispers of you."
The room stirred at that word: daemons.
Varik's sharp eyes narrowed. "Whispers from where?"
"From traders, mercenaries, and tavern tongues," she replied smoothly. "I followed them here."
Before the council could respond, Zerathis's deep voice rolled across the chamber, low and edged like a blade. "That is no simple rumor. To speak of daemons openly, in human lands? Dangerous, suicidal. Whoever spread these whispers did so with intent. Someone wants eyes turned toward you, Kael. Toward all of us."
Kael's jaw tightened. He had thought the same. A loose tongue in a tavern was one thing, but to draw a daemon of Seliora's caliber to their gates was another matter entirely.
He stood from his seat, his presence commanding the chamber into silence. "Seliora's story is one problem. But the rumor is the true threat. If word spreads too far, it won't be lost girls or curious wanderers who come knocking — it'll be armies."
Varik leaned forward, his tone hard. "You're saying someone planted this. Someone wanted her — and others — to find us."
Kael nodded once. "Exactly." He looked first to Varik, then to Zerathis, their eyes locked with his. "The two of you will track it. Find the source. Whoever they are, whatever their reason, I want them alive. If they're a threat, we'll deal with it. If they're just reckless, they'll learn what happens when you play games with the Hollow."
Seliora's amber eyes flickered, unreadable. Rogan shifted, arms crossed. "And what of her?" he asked, jerking his chin at the daemon girl.
"She'll stay," Kael said firmly. "On probation. If she truly came seeking a place, she'll earn it under watch. But the greater danger isn't her. It's whoever put these words in her ear."
The chamber filled with murmurs. Azhara looked uneasy, Lyria's eyes narrowed, and Thalos tapped his staff against the floor in thought.
But Kael's word carried weight, and none moved to oppose him.
Finally, Zerathis bared his teeth in something like a grin. "Good. It's been too long since I've hunted shadows."
Varik's expression was unreadable, but his voice was as sharp as ever. "If someone's moving against us, they'll regret not burying their whispers deeper."
Kael leaned against the table, his voice calm but resolute. "Then it's settled. Find them. Bring them back to me breathing. And then, we'll see just how deep this plot runs."
The torches crackled as the meeting adjourned, and for the first time that night, the Hollow felt less like a sanctuary and more like the eye of a storm.