The Keep hadn't known silence like this since the Siege.
Magnolia stood in the central chamber, facing the full circle of Elders, their faces hidden beneath ceremonial veils stitched with bone-thread. At the center of the ring, the High Seal glowed, alive and waiting for judgment.
Elara stood to Magnolia's right, posture rigid, hands clasped in front of her like someone ready for execution. Beckett lingered behind her, shoulders tense, fingers twitching by the hilt of his sword.
Camille wasn't there.
They hadn't let her in.
That fact alone twisted something sharp in Magnolia's gut.
"She is not an enemy," Elara said, her voice calm but loud enough to reach the high stone arches.
"She is a gate," murmured one of the Elders. "A gate we do not control."
"You never controlled her," Magnolia said coldly. "You only kept her ignorant."
"Which preserved peace," another countered.
"At what cost?"
The High Elder hooded, taller than the rest raised a hand.
"Enough."
