The council chamber of Arvenholt felt colder than it should have. High, vaulted ceilings swallowed sound, and the stained glass windows cast thin streams of blue and red light across the long table where the kingdom's leaders sat. Queen Elara kept her eyes forward, her fingers lightly pressed to the edge of the table as she listened to the last of the reports. She had heard of the recent battles in the east, the rumors of a mage whose power did not follow the natural laws, and the strange omens seen in the night sky. Yet each report seemed incomplete, as if the truth was being smothered before it could reach her.
To her right, Lord Ceren cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, with respect, our focus should remain on securing the western borders. The merchants are restless, and the loss of trade will cause more harm than any rumors of dark sorcery."
Queen Elara's gaze shifted slightly. She had learned long ago that men like Ceren preferred to drown her in concerns over coin, keeping her attention away from matters that might challenge their power. She smiled faintly, a smile that did not touch her eyes. "The realm does not survive on trade alone. There are threats that cannot be bought off or negotiated away."
From across the table, Captain Vorric leaned forward. His armor still bore the dust of the road. "Majesty, I have seen the devastation with my own eyes. Villages burned to their foundations, entire regiments scattered. This is no bandit raid. Whoever leads this force wields magic of a kind I have never seen."
The air in the chamber grew heavier. Elara's pulse quickened. "And yet I have received no official dispatch detailing such events. Why is that, Lord Ceren?"
Ceren's jaw tightened. "Reports must be verified before they are brought to your attention. We cannot risk making decisions based on the exaggerated fears of soldiers."
Vorric slammed a gauntleted fist onto the table, making several councilors flinch. "Exaggerated? I saw a man dissolve into ash before me. I saw walls melt like candle wax. If that is exaggeration, then perhaps you should ride to the front yourself and take a closer look."
A tense silence followed. Elara raised her hand, and Vorric stopped, though his eyes still burned. "Enough," she said calmly. "Captain, you will remain in the city for now. Lord Ceren, I expect every scrap of information regarding these attacks to be placed in my hands by dawn tomorrow. If I learn that anything has been held back, I will consider it an act of treason."
The council broke soon after, the lords and ministers retreating into their own muttered conversations. Elara waited until the last had gone before she stood and walked to the nearest window. The city sprawled below, a patchwork of rooftops and smoke rising from countless chimneys. Somewhere beyond the horizon, the truth waited for her, sharp and dangerous.
A soft footstep behind her made her turn. Lady Mireth, her most trusted spymaster, stepped into the light. "It is worse than Vorric said," Mireth whispered. "The one they speak of is not just a sorcerer. He is something else. The soldiers call him the Abandoned Prodigy. He moves like a shadow and strikes without warning. And he has followers, more than we thought."
Elara's stomach tightened. "Do we know his goal?"
"Not yet. But he is gathering strength quickly. And there is something strange about the way his forces move. They do not take prisoners. They do not plunder. They destroy, and then they vanish."
Elara turned back to the city. "Send our best riders east. I want confirmation of every attack. And find me someone who has seen this Abandoned Prodigy and lived to tell of it."
Mireth hesitated. "There is something else, my queen. This mage... he is not alone. There are whispers of a woman who walks beside him, cloaked in silver. She commands as much fear as he does."
Elara's grip on the windowsill tightened until her knuckles whitened. "Then we will need more than soldiers. We will need the kind of power that matches theirs."
That night, she walked alone through the private gardens of the palace. The moonlight shimmered on the marble paths, and the scent of night-blooming flowers hung in the air. Yet her thoughts were not on beauty. She was thinking of the vault deep beneath the palace, of the relics sealed away for generations. The old magic that her predecessors had deemed too dangerous to use.
When she reached the far end of the garden, a figure stepped from the shadows. It was not Mireth this time, but an older man draped in a black robe stitched with golden threads. His face was lined with age, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous sharpness.
"You have been avoiding me, Elara," he said softly. "But now you find yourself in need."
Her chin lifted. "I did not summon you, Master Halvik. I have not yet decided if your counsel is worth the price it demands."
Halvik chuckled, the sound low and dry. "And yet you walk the path that leads only to me. You feel the shift in the world, do you not? Something is rising. Something that will tear this kingdom apart if left unchecked."
"I am aware," she said. "The question is whether you can help me stop it."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I can help you stop anything. But nothing comes without a cost. Tell me, Elara, are you ready to pay it?"
She met his gaze without flinching. "If it means protecting my people, I will pay whatever is necessary."
A smile curved across his lips, slow and knowing. "Then you will have what you seek. But remember, power is a blade with no handle. You will bleed when you wield it."
They spoke for another hour, their words weaving through promises and threats alike. By the time Elara returned to her chambers, her decision was made. The kingdom would not fall while she sat the throne. The Abandoned Prodigy would be stopped, no matter what darkness she had to embrace to do it.
And somewhere in the east, beneath a sky streaked with firelight, a young man smiled without knowing why, as if he had just been challenged by an equal.