Thorne
The guards shifted on their feet, clearly unsettled as Varen's voice cracked through the tension.
"Let them in," he ordered, the command slicing like a blade.
The heavy doors swung open with a groan, and in walked the Council of Elders—five of them, cloaked in heavy ceremonial coats, dark as the judgment they thought they carried. At their center stood Harsh, the head elder, his greying beard trimmed to a sharp point, eyes gleaming with misplaced righteousness.
I rose from my seat at the head of the room, my spine straight, arms folded across my chest as I took my place with Varen on my left and Kiel on my right. Together, we stood tall. United. A wall of power and dominance. It crackled in the air like static, heavy and thick with tension.
"You must be out of your minds," I said slowly, the words rolling off my tongue like smoke from a fire not yet lit. "Barging into my territory. Into my home. With no invitation?"
