"Inconvenient?" The Council member who'd spoken before, Pyroth, stood. His scales caught the light as he moved. "We're talking about sending warriors into dangerous territory to chase shadows. We have no intelligence, no leads, no idea where to even start looking. That's not inconvenient. That's suicide."
"Then we gather intelligence," Terra shot back. "We don't just give up."
"Enough." Darrokar's voice cracked like a whip. "This is not a time for debate."
Terra's jaw tightened, but she subsided. Barely.
Beside her, Lexa looked like she wanted to combust. Her hands were clenched into fists, her whole body rigid with the effort of staying silent. I could see the war on her face, the desperate need to speak warring with the knowledge that she had even less right than Terra to address the Council.
It was killing her. Watching us discuss the fate of her people, make decisions about their lives, and having no voice in it.
It was killing me to watch her suffer and do nothing.
Darrokar turned his attention back to the Council. "We need to vote. The question before us: do we commit additional resources to searching for the missing humans, knowing we have no concrete leads and limited intelligence?"
"We're stretched thin as it is," Zarvash said, though he sounded reluctant. "Ignarath is watching our borders more closely than ever. The Forge Temple is agitating against human presence. We can't afford to send warriors on a mission with no clear objective."
"We also can't afford to abandon people," Khorlar countered. "What message does that send?"
"Our word was to protect the humans in our city," Pyroth argued. "Not to chase after every human who might exist somewhere on Volcaryth."
The argument continued. Points and counterpoints. Strategic considerations and political implications. I stood in the center of it all, my report delivered, my role reduced to witness.
And I listened to them discuss giving up.
My fangs ached worse. The bond pulled at me, a hook lodged behind my sternum, dragging me toward the woman standing in the shadows. She needed someone to fight for this, to argue for continuing the search.
But I was bound by duty. By honor. By my oath to serve the Council's decisions, even when I disagreed with them.
Even when it meant failing her.
"Vote," Darrokar said finally. "Those in favor of continuing active search operations, indicate now."
Four claws rose. Khorlar. Rath. Veyrak. Mine.
"Those opposed."
Five claws. Including Darrokar's.
The decision was made.
"We will maintain passive intelligence gathering," Darrokar announced. "If information surfaces regarding the missing humans' location, we will reassess. But we cannot justify dedicating active resources to a search with no viable leads. This Council is …"
"No."
The word cut through the chamber like a blade through flesh. Small. Defiant. Human.
Lexa stepped forward, out of the shadows, into the light of the heat crystals. Her face was pale, her eyes blazing, her whole body vibrating with barely suppressed fury.
"You can't just give up," she said, her voice shaking. "They're still out there. They're still alive. You're just going to abandon them?"
The chamber went silent. Shocked. It was one thing for Terra to interrupt. She was the Warrior Lord's mate and had a strangeposition here. No one else interrupted Council proceedings. Especially not a human with no official standing, no mate-bond to grant her status.
Mektar's voice came, cold and sharp. "You have no right to address this Council, human."
"I have every right," Lexa shot back. "You're talking about my people. About humans who crashed on this world through no fault of their own and are now prisoners somewhere, and you're sitting here debating whether they're worth the effort to find."
"This is a matter of Scalvaris security," Pyroth said, his tone dismissive. "Not your concern."
