The plates were cleared away, and I leaned back, heavier than I expected.
The food had settled in me, and my stomach was full. But it was more than that...it was the stillness after the storm inside me.
Across the table, Joshua cradled his cup, sipping tea in that slow, deliberate way of his.
He had always been patient with the smallest of things, even water. Watching him, I wondered if he ever rushed through anything at all.
The restaurant had thinned out. Chairs stood empty, echoes of earlier voices fading into the hum of rain beyond the walls.
With the downpour still lashing against the glass, I doubted anyone else would come in. The contrast struck me... the world outside drowning in shadows and thunder, while in here the yellow light clung stubbornly to every surface, warm and bright.
One exaggerated the other, like opposites holding each other up.
I ordered a hot chocolate,because I liked it a lot. As I waited, I felt that it was time to let the dam open again.
The waitress set the steaming cup in front of me, the scent of cocoa rising with the faint curl of steam.
I wrapped my hands around it, letting the heat seep into my fingers, into the cracks exhaustion had left behind.
Joshua set his cup down, eyes flicking toward me as though waiting for a signal, a word, anything to fill the silence. He didn't push, but I could feel the unspoken question pressing between us.
I cleared my throat. "About what I said earlier," I began, my voice quieter than I expected. The words felt heavy, as if they'd been waiting for this moment to drag themselves out.
Joshua nodded once, steady, like he understood. Or at least like he was bracing himself.
I stared into the swirl of chocolate, dark surface trembling with every drop of rain hammering the windows. "Maybe it's time I tell you the rest."
----
"The council…" I said, "I was inside the chamber but I stood in the corridor with the other lower seats, waiting like a statue."
Joshua frowned, brows pulling tight. "Why like that, sir?"
I turned my head toward him, expression flat. "Because, Joshua, I was not high enough. This was twenty five years ago. I was young, barely given the right to sit in hearings at all. Only the heads of houses and the queen dowager herself were permitted inside. I was exactly where I should have been, that too because... of a senior."
That shut him up.
I didn't tell him that I was the adopted brother of the queen, that I was adopted son of the Matriarch of Orien, Elina.
I didn't have to, I didn't want to.
His pen stilled, and he nodded, embarrassed.
I went on. "The chamber was full to the seams. Every lord in his place, stiff backed, rings heavy on their fingers. The queen dowager sat at the high seat, her hand never straying from the swell of her belly. The air itself was taut, like a bow drawn to its last inch."
I shifted, remembering the things as they had been.
----
"Your Majesty," the first voice broke the silence. It was Lord Areskar, "why were we not told earlier?"
The queen's eyes lifted slowly, steady but tired.
"Because I was not told either," she said. "The vision was seen by the elders of House Oneir during the heir's blessing. Despite my connection to them, I wasn't told about it either."
"And do you know now?" came the cutting tone of Lady Justeia.
"No," Allysane replied. "Not fully."
A ripple of disbelief went through the hall.
This lead me to the memory of how Lord Volundr has asked me if I knew anything. But I didn't. My connection to House Oneir, was as fragile as a teenage love.
"Your Majesty," said Lord Cygne, leaning forward, "with all respect, the kingdom cannot afford half truths. You must tell us what they saw."
I looked at Joshua, his ears peeked up.
"And then… came the delegation from House Oneir. Her presence chilled the room, half respect, half unease. They greeted the queen dowager, and the council and took their seats."
The Matriarch's face was pale, worn, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.
"I will speak to that," she said. "The vision was fractured, but its meaning was not. It showed the Duskren, their return, and ruin in their wake."
That single word, Duskren cracked through the air.
"The vision was clear. The Duskren would return. War was not a question of if, but when. And the heir, the unborn child, would play a role second to none. His ambition, his strength, his rise… would pave the way for humanity's survival... just as the monarchs of old had." She continued.
Several of the lords began whispering, one even crossed himself with a charm of warding.
"You are certain?" asked Lord Volundr, his tone measured. "The Duskren as a whole have been silent for generations."
"We are certain," the Matriarch said. "You all know the credibility of the ritual."
"Then why," someone else demanded, "were we not summoned the day you saw it?"
The Matriarch met that voice, Lord Mnemosyne's with an unreadable calm.
"Because panic does not build fortresses," she said. "We needed time to confirm the signs. Even now, the future remains fluid. The vision shows the tide but not the exact hour it will reach the shore."
And that didn't calm them.
If anything, the uncertainty only sharpened the tension.
"So it might not come at all in our generation," muttered Lord Lokein, earning a few nods.
"Or" he continued, "it might come tomorrow."
The queen's hands folded on the table, the faint tremor in them visible even across the hall.
"We do know that the heir would be a grown up then," she said. "So, we should have some time."
Then Lord Thantys leaned forward, his rings clinking on the table.
"And how do we prepare for such a storm, Matriarch Elina? A child cannot wield a sword."
That was the moment when voices broke loose.
Questions flew like arrows,
What form would the Duskren take?
And, what were they supposed to do?
"Enough," Allysane said quietly.
The sound silenced the room more effectively than a strike.
"I understand your fears. I share them. But we will not act from chaos. For now, every House will return and strengthen its borders. The Council will remain in contact. And I will convene again once I have spoken further with my mother."
"That's it?" Lord Mnemosyne asked, incredulous. "We prepare… and wait?"
"Would you rather we burn our fields before the enemy even arrives?" she replied.
He had no answer for that.
No one did.
So the meeting ended, quietly and uneasily.
The queen and Matriarch left together.
The rest stayed behind, whispering like insects in a jar.
----
I rubbed the edge of my cup,
"Everyone realised the crown didn't have all the answers. You could feel it in the air. Doubt, Fear, and worse... the beginning of curiosity."
Joshua looked up from his notes, brow furrowed.
"Curiosity?"
"Yes," I said. "Because it was that curiosity that kept the Duskren alive in every conversation for the next four months."