Page 58 of Fallen Nocturne

The room goes silent again.

I follow Kharlis’s gaze to the back wall.

Arescaine hasn’t moved from his position in the shadows. He hasn’t made a sound or shifted his stance. The vampire is simply looking at Lord Kharlis.

Kharlis is sweating.

I’ve seen predators in Astefar. Creatures ancient and terrible that could kill with a thought. But I’ve never seen anything like the look in Arescaine’s eyes in this moment.

Looking into his eyes is like looking into a void with no bottom and no end. An endless dark that would swallow you whole and leave nothing behind.

Kharlis stumbles backward. His hand goes to his throat. He can’t seem to breathe properly. His eyes are locked on Arescaine with the glazed terror of a rabbit caught in a wolf’s jaws.

Arescaine’s gaze shifts to me. For a single heartbeat, something flickers in the endless darkness of his eyes. A silent question, perhaps, or an assurance that Kharlis will not speak against me again.

I should be angry. A vampire has interfered in my council and silenced one of my Aldarelfs. He has undermined my authority in front of everyone.

Instead, I feel safe. Protected.

I push the feeling away and turn back to the table. “Enough. We know what we’re facing. Now we need to discuss how to minimize casualties. Evacuation plans for the major cities.”

I look at the map spread before us. “We need to disperse our population so that if Sanguisyl is deployed, we don’t lose an entire city at once.” I point to the largest settlements marked across the map. “The weapon takes several days to recover, and using it drains Prince Finnbheara severely. He cannot strike everywhere at once.”

“Prince Finnbheara can destroy our cities one by one.” Lady Eidith’s voice is hollow. “He can take his time and make us watch.”

“We’re not giving up.” I cut her off. “Yes, we’re facing something unprecedented and terrifying. But we’re not surrendering without a fight.”

“We can’t win,” someone mutters from the far end of the table.

“Maybe not.” I meet their eyes one by one. “But we can survive. I hope we can protect as many people as possible.”

“Hope.” Kharlis laughs bitterly.

I straighten my shoulders. “I won’t give the Fae King the satisfaction of our surrender before he even arrives.”

Rainer nods approvingly. Around the table, some of the commanders sit up straighter. The despair in the room shifts into something more determined.

“We start with the most vulnerable cities,” Lord Wesley says firmly. “We spread them across multiple smaller regions.”

“We’ll need supplies,” Lady Tierra adds. “Food, water, medical provisions. If people are displaced for weeks or months, every region will need to contribute.”

“I can commit grain stores from the Southern Reach,” Lord Nemarion offers. “The Eastern March has healing supplies we can distribute.”

Panic drains out of the room and something steadier takes its place. Even Kharlis sits down and stops arguing long enough to listen.

They are talking over one another again, but this time it is productive. Plans begin taking shape amid the fear. They discuss how many people each region can shelter, which roads remain passable and how quickly supplies can be moved. They are searching for ways to save what they can, even in the face of impossible odds.

I let them talk and work through the logistics. The meeting stretches on for hours. We trace evacuation routes across the map, establish supply lines and identify defensive positions that might buy us time, if not victory. Arguments break out over whether we should abandon the borders or continue holding them, and whether our forces will be safer concentrated around the capital or scattered across the kingdom.

Every strategy feels futile, as if we’re rearranging furniture in a burning house. But we keep planning anyway. It is late afternoon when we finally break. The commanders and Aldarelfs file out in small groups, their faces grim.

Arescaine remains against the wall, silent as a ghost.

Rainer approaches me as the room empties. “That went better than I expected.”

I look at my uncle incredulously. “Half the council thinks we’re doomed.”

“But they’re still fighting.” Rainer squeezes my shoulder. “That’s what matters. You gave them the worst news possible and they didn’t break.”