The private dining hall was smaller than the grand ceremonial chambers, intended for intimate gatherings of the inner circle, but tonight the stone walls seemed to lean in, amplifying every scrape of silver against porcelain. The hearth crackled, casting dancing amber shadows across a table that felt miles wide.
At the head sat Eris, her posture regal despite the exhaustion of the day. To her right, Caelen remained propped up, his recovery visible in his steady hands but absent from his hollow eyes. Beside him, Ophelia sat with her hands resting protectively over the four-month swell of her stomach, her usual ethereal glow replaced by a sharper, more brittle radiance.
At the center of it all was Rael.
