Night settled like a held breath.
The Accord Hall did not sleep—not truly. The broken pillars whispered softly to one another, ancient stone remembering voices that had once sworn oaths here. The air was warm but restless, as if fire still lingered beneath the floor, listening.
Amaya sat on the edge of a cracked dais, knees drawn to her chest, staring at nothing.
Her power was quiet now.
That scared her more than when it roared.
Because silence meant control.
And control meant responsibility.
Behind her, Calix paced—slow, restless, a caged predator trying not to bare his teeth at shadows. Every few steps he glanced at her, then looked away again, jaw tight.
The Night Fox King stood apart, half-hidden in the deeper shadows of the hall, eyes reflecting faint silver light. He had not spoken since the Ash Sovereign left.
Finally, Amaya broke the silence.
"He meant it," she said softly. "All of them do."
Calix stopped pacing. "We knew that."
