Lysandra whispered, “I should marry him.”
Poppy elbowed her sister. “Stop.”
Mingxi took the seat at Poppy’s right, hand on her knee beneath the table. Lysandra sprawled on the left like she owned the place. Yunlian stood behind them like a silent goddess of judgment.
Councilors filled the edges of the room, murmuring until the Sentinel’s glare shut them up.
The Sentinel bowed his head slightly toward Poppy. “When you’re ready.”
She inhaled, steadying herself. “The moonwell was dying,” she began simply. “When we arrived, the shard had anchored itself to the core. The water was cracking. Everything, light, magic, life, was collapsing inward.”
Several Councilors leaned forward, quills already scratching.
Poppy continued, voice calm but sure. “We formed a ritual circle. Caelan stabilized the water. Lirrane held the boundaries. Yunlian anchored the flow. Mingxi shielded me. And the moonwell… reached for me.”
“It chose her,” Mingxi said softly, unable to stop himself.
The Sentinel nodded once. “Go on.”
Poppy swallowed. “The shard resisted. Hard. It fought extraction. I held the tether from the moonwell, and Mingxi burned the corruption away.”
Lysandra grinned. “He roasted it like chestnuts.”
“Lysandra,” Poppy hissed.
“What? It did explode.”
There was a ripple of horrified whispers.
Poppy pushed on. “When the shard tore free, the backlash nearly destroyed the basin. But the moonwell wasn’t gone. It was hurting. Afraid.And I could feel it reaching.” Her hand drifted unconsciously to her ribs. “So I reached back.”
The room went silent.
“It stabilized,” she finished quietly. “The moonwell is healing. The shard is gone.”
A long breath seemed to pass through the chamber. Then, a Councilor stood abruptly.
“This is impossible. A mortal cannot bond with a relic of that magnitude—”
Lysandra tilted her head. “She quite literally did, though. I saw it. Very sparkly. Very dramatic.”
“You have no standing to speak,” the Councilor snapped.
Lysandra sat up straighter. “Excuse me? I have excellent standing. Look at this posture.”
Poppy groaned, squelching the desire to roll her eyes. “Lysandra.”
“No. Look,” she insisted, stretching like a cat. “Perfect spine alignment.”
The Councilor sputtered in outrage.
Mingxi’s foxfire flared protectively. “Watch your tone.”
The Sentinel didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “She is correct. Her posture is exemplary.”
Another Councilor tried to speak. “The threat is clearly contained—”
“No,” Poppy said immediately.
