Selkaris raised one hand, calm as ever. “Peace, Praetor. Let her speak.”
“She will not be baited by your riddles,” Zaph snarled, glaring past me at Dravok.
The shadows only seemed to curl darker around him in answer, but he leaned back, his smirk widening, satisfied at having struck a nerve. I wondered if Dravok had been baiting me or Zaph.
I drew a shaky breath, surprised at the sound of my own voice cutting through the tension. “I come from a place called Earth.”
Every head tilted toward me, some curious, some predatory.
“It’s… small,” I went on, my words tumbling out before Zaph could cut in again. “A single blue planet. We thought we were alone. That the stars were just stories, distant fires to wish on.” My throat tightened, but I forced myself to keep talking. “Then the Cryons came. They didn’t even declare war; they just… arrived. They killed billions of us and captured billions more. I don’t even know what’s left.”
For a moment, silence pressed down like a weight.
Selkaris’ gaze softened. “And yet you are here.”
I almost laughed, but it came out more brittle than anything. “Yeah. Here. Lucky me.”
Thyros leaned forward; his aura was hot enough to scorch. “She speaks with fire.”
“She speaks with grief,” Ozyrael countered smoothly, his dark-gold aura bending toward me like persuasion given form. “Grief makes mortals bold.”
I clenched the arms of the chair. “Grief makes you survive. Or it kills you. I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
The Oracle, Nythor, let out a ragged chuckle. “She carries ashes in her veins. Ashes and starlight. I can taste it.”
I flinched, shrinking back, only to feel Zaph’s finger brush against the back of my neck, reassuring and comforting.
“She is not for you,” he growled.
Selkaris' dark eyesfixed on me as though he were reading every layer of truth in my words. When he finally spoke, the sound carried through the chamber like judgment. “This is a dire situation, if the Cryons are attacking Earth—and Earth is the world where our lost Aelyth dwell—then we can no longer ignore it. Action must be taken.”
My stomach dropped. Wait—ourAelyth? He couldn’t possibly mean?—
Before I could form the thought, Zaph’s snarl cut through the chamber like a blade. “Action? Then we act. Cryons are vermin. We can crush them. Burn their fleets from the skies. A handful of them stand no chance against us.”
The table vibrated with his fury, and for a moment, several others drummed their fists on the surface in support of his words. But from the shadows, Dravok’s voice slid out, smooth and dangerous. “The universe has forgotten us. Forgotten the Arkhevari. To reveal ourselves now would invite chaos.” His eyes glinted, catching me in their edge before turning back to Zaph. “And remember, beyond Nox Eternum, much of what we are is gone. Our strength is fractured there. Our powers… less. We are not the golden gods we once were.”
The words hung heavy, ringing like a funeral bell. My heart stuttered in my chest.What have I gotten myself into?
Zaph loomed behind me, and I felt his aura flaring hot with defiance. “Then let them remember,” he growled. “Let them tremble at what we still are.”
Thyros folded his arms across his chest, and his aurasparked like fire as it spilled across the table. “Even the mighty Praetor of War cannot be in two places at once,” he said, his gaze locking on Zaph. “You cannot fight the Mmuhr’Rhong at the front and lead an attack on the Cryons. And—correct me if I’m wrong—I don’t believe we have the troops to wage two wars.”
When Zaph didn't immediately snap back, I realized that Thyros must be speaking the truth, and a shudder moved through me.
Vaelion’s voice followed, steady as stone. “Thyros speaks true. The threshold weakens. Each day, the Abyss pushes harder against our walls.” He raised a hand, calm but firm, before Zaph’s aura could flare higher. “You’ve done your best, Praetor. You’ve held them back for eons. But even you cannot fight a never-ending force with soldiers who are dying. We are fewer with every passing cycle.”
His eyes swept the table, catching each of the others in turn. “They multiply. We diminish. If we keep to the same path, the end is inevitable.”
Silence fell, heavy as stone.
Then Vaelion said what no one else had dared. “We need help.”
The words rang through the hall, echoing off obsidian and starfire.
Behind me, I felt Zaph tense, his fury rolling like a storm ready to break, but for once, he didn’t lash out. He stood rooted, his hand tight on the back of my chair, and a quick glance at the mirror showed him clenching his jawas though the admission burned like acid in his mouth. I stared at the gathered gods-turned-predators. If even they were running out of time… what chance did the rest of us have?
Suddenly, all I had been thrown into became clearer and heavier. This wasn't just about me, not even about Earth and the Cryons. If these men were right, then an eternal hell would eventually break through the battlelines Zaph was keeping safe and consume everything and anything in its path.
