The chamber gradually emptied.
One by one, the remaining heads of the allied houses withdrew, the echo of measured footsteps fading beyond the heavy doors. The guards stationed outside did not move from their posts, but the tension that had filled the room during collective discussion settled into something quieter, denser.
When the doors finally closed, only two figures remained seated at the long table.
Valttair du Morgain.
Elenara au Sylvanel.
Two of the Eight, left alone to decide the fate of the eighth.
The torches along the walls burned steadily, casting restrained light over the documents still spread across the polished surface. Kaedor was dead. His authority, once absolute within Thal'zar, had ended on the battlefield. The seat he occupied could not remain vacant. A void at that level would invite instability, speculation, and intervention from forces neither of them wished to empower.
The balance of the world depended on continuity.
And continuity required a name.
