"Unknown. We found evidence of a struggle, but not a battle. No blood. No bodies. The fight was brief."
"How brief?" Khorlar's granite voice rumbled from his seat.
"Minutes, perhaps. There were overturned furnishings, scattered belongings. But the damage was minimal. Whoever took them moved fast."
Mektar spoke up from his position to Darrokar's left. "I can confirm Nyx's assessment. The scene suggested a targeted extraction, not a raid."
Behind me, someone inhaled sharply. The sound cut through the formal atmosphere. I didn't need to turn to know it was Lexa. Her scent spiked, fear mixing with fury, and my entire body tensed in response.
She was afraid. Angry. Hurting.
And I couldn't go to her.
My claws dug into my palms, the pain grounding me. Keeping me focused.
"What else?" Darrokar asked.
"There were strange markings on the walls and floor," I continued. "Dark burns in patterns I didn't recognize. Mektar documented them." I gestured to my fellow scout, who produced a rolled piece of parchment covered in careful sketches.
Darrokar took the drawing, studied it. His expression didn't change, but his tail went very still.
"These burns," Zarvash said slowly, rising from his seat to examine the sketches over Darrokar's shoulder. "They're not from any Drakarn weapon."
"No," I agreed. "The pattern is wrong. Too uniform. Too controlled."
Darrokar set the parchment aside, his claws drumming once against the arm of his seat. Thinking. Calculating.
"Your assessment, Nyx. Where are the humans now?"
This was the part I hated. The part that felt like admitting defeat.
"I believe a third party took them. Not Ignarath warriors. Someone with resources, planning, and knowledge of humanvalue. The extraction was too clean and professional for anything else."
"We have no trail," Mektar said quietly. "No witnesses. No direction. The humans could be anywhere on Volcaryth by now."
"Or off it," Zarvash added grimly. It was difficult to believe that someone could leave this world and travel through space. We had no technology to do so.
But the humans had come from a far-off world. Could there be more of them in their ships?
Silence fell. Heavy and oppressive.
I could hear Lexa breathing behind me. Fast, shallow breaths that spoke of barely controlled emotion. Her scent kept shifting, cycling through fear and rage and something that tasted like desperation.
My tail lashed once before I caught it and forced it still.
"We need to send another team," Rath said, his voice rising. "A larger force. We can't just abandon these people."
"They're not our people," one of the other Council members said. I didn't turn to see who. "They're humans who happened to crash on our world."
"They're under Scalvaris's protection," Terra's voice cut through the chamber. Clear. Firm. She'd been silent until now, but apparently, she'd reached her limit.
Several Council members turned to look at her. She stood straight, her hand resting on the blade at her hip, every inch the Warrior Lord's mate.
But she'd spoken out of turn. Observers didn't address the Council during formal sessions.
"Terra." Darrokar's tone held warning.
She ignored it. "You gave us shelter. These are my people. Ignarath is using them as slaves! You can't just decide they're not our problem anymore because finding them is inconvenient."
