A challenge.
And worse—a truth no one in the room can deny.
No one says anything to that.
She steps out from her chair, pacing around Elandor’s table with conviction rarely seen.
“And we know that witches exist—Iam proof. The Melders stuck in human form are proof. And Thalmyr exiled the gods to an echo-plane with the help of one.Proof.” Seren’s words hang in the air, biting and forthright andtrue.
“Yes,” Elyssara breathes, recalling that familiar name. “The woman from the Obsidian Crown vision. She was there with Thalmyr. I assumed her an Arcanist at the time…” she trails off.
The memory lodges in Kael’s mind.The woman from the vision.
The room is dense with thought.
“And how do you propose we find Lara, Seren?” he snaps.
Seren’s tolerance for Kael’s brusque tone is slipping… he can see it. So she strides around to his seat at the table, staring at him long and hard.
“I’m so glad you asked,” she croons sarcastically. “Because some of us don’t have a council of people to consult on every decision, I used my brain to prepare a plan ahead of time.” She pauses, and the group lean in, hanging on her every word. “I’ll use my blood.”
She spins on her heel, triumphant.
Victory suits her.
“Explain that for those less clever among us… for Teddy, that is. Not me, of course,” Ronyn jokes, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter.
A smile returns to Seren’s face. “Gateways take us to the origin point of the object I bind it to. If I use my blood, it’ll take me to its origin.” She shrugs nonchalantly, as if her plan isn’t fucking brilliant. Reckless.Effective.
“Seren, what if it takes you somewhere…else?An echo-plane? The Stars themselves?” Elyssara objects. “You’re too close to this. It’s too personal.”
Like that has ever stopped any of them before.
Seren slows her breath, letting it flow in and out in measured counts.
“I am tired,” she counters, a foreign fierceness in her voice. “So fucking tired of being treated like I’m breakable. So you’re all allowed to pursue what is personal? Vengeance, rescues, betrayal. But what? I’m too demure for my own personal motives?”
He hears it now. Not desperation—conviction.
Elyssara’s mouth moves like she’s trying to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Would you ask me to abandon what runs in my blood?” Seren pushes.
The question lands harder than anything else she’s said, because he knows that only death could stop him from abandoning his duty. His people.
She wheels around, fixing her gaze on Elyssara. “Would you lie down and take it if I told you not to draw your blade? Not to claim your throne?”
She charges toward Teddy. “Or if I told you not to guard Kael while he fucking breaks before our eyes?”
The room sucks in a collective gasp.
Because the words cannot be unsaid. And neither can what they reveal.
Kael doesn’t flinch, his expression unreadable.
Ronyn is her next victim. “Or that you were not able to bring joy to the people you love?”
“Or that you were restrained from making elixirs to save your loved ones?” She stabs a finger at Rubi. “Or gods forbid, unable to drown in drink.”
