She grabbed the ledger set beside her desk as began to read the itinerary The ledger was thick, its pages made of a material that felt almost like parchment but impossibly smooth, edges slightly roughened with time. The text was written in a flowing script—elegant and precise, but incomprehensible to her human eyes. Vael had translated the schedule into Imperial script, his handwriting neat and precise in the margins. She traced her fingers over the words, her gaze catching on certain phrases. "First day—Representation Ceremony. The Dawn Keeper will receive the envoys formally. Silence is expected. Obedience is required."
A shiver ran through her as she read the words, but she forced herself to continue. "Second day—Initial Negotiations." The list went on, each day marked with specific events, each event carrying an unspoken weight. Some words made her stomach twist—"The Dance of Offerings," "The Blooding," "The Trial of Truth"—but she forced herself to continue reading. She shut the book no sense in overwhelming herself. She glanced around the room. The room seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, the walls breathing in and out in subtle ways that made her think of living things. The bedsheets, upon closer inspection, appeared to be woven from strands of moonlight, each thread catching and refracting the dim light that filtered into the room. A small table stood near the bed, carved from what looked like a single piece of obsidian, its surface perfectly smooth and reflecting nothing.
Mira climbed out of bed slowly, her legs still unsteady from the fever that had gripped her earlier. The floor felt cold beneath her feet, a strange, almost liquid texture that shifted slightly as she moved. She noticed her luggage was brought to her room, "Damn they work fast."
She opened the chest all the dresses and supplies from the Empress were tightly bound together. She pulled out a clean shift, changing quickly before stepping toward the windowless wall. She pressed her forehead to the cool stone grounding herself for just a moment.
Her mind wandered to Kai, "I hope you're doing well idiot."
The thought of Kai made her smile momentarily, but the feeling quickly dissolved as she became aware of the quiet pressing in around her. The air was too still, too heavy, as if the castle itself were holding its breath. The walls seemed to listen, the silence not empty but thick with something unspoken. She pulled away from the wall and turned back toward the bed, she grabbed the tonic and downed it in one go. She cradled under the covers. Tomorrow she would do better.
The next day came abruptly she was startled by the sound of shuffling in her room, "What the F-"
Mira jerked upright in bed, her hand reaching instinctively for the dagger that wasn't there. The figure in her doorway was not what she had expected—an elf, but different from the others she had seen. This one was shorter, more solidly built, with hair the color of aged copper and eyes that glowed a soft amber. She wore simple robes of deep green, and her hands were occupied with a tray laden with food and a steaming cup.
"Forgive me," the elf said, her voice carrying the melodic lilt of her kind but with an underlying roughness that suggested age. "I am Jellelle. I have brought your morning meal."
Mira nodded, "It's okay you shouldn't have- I-I wasn't expecting any attendants?"
Jellelle set the tray down on the obsidian table with practiced ease, her movements deliberate and graceful. She turned back to Mira with a small, knowing smile. "The Empress's envoy deserves care, does she not? Though I must admit, I was curious to see for myself the human who dares challenge the Dawn Keeper with her eyes." The elf's gaze lingered on Mira, studying her with an expression that was neither hostile nor welcoming—merely... assessing.
Mira shifted under the scrutiny, pulling the covers higher as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. "I didn't mean to... challenge. I was just- I didn't expect him to be-"
Jellelle's smile deepened slightly, the corners of her mouth curling with what might have been amusement or understanding. "Yes," she said, the single word carrying weight. "None expect him. That is why he is what he is."
She gestured toward the tray, where a small steaming bowl and an ornate teacup rested. The steam from the tea curled in complex patterns, shifting as if guided by some unseen hand. "Eat. The air here saps strength from human flesh. Your body will not last long if you do not tend it." Mira nodded, her stomach already growling in response to the food's aroma.
She ate quickly as she studied Jellelle, the elf's eyes caught hers Mira stammered "Are you all just incredibly beautiful?"
Jellelle's face shifted, her expression softening into something almost akin to surprise. Then she laughed—a quiet, melodic sound that seemed to echo in the stone walls. "Yes," she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Beauty is a function of this place, as much as the air is breathable or the sun rises. We are the products of it, and it of us."
Mira frowned slightly, wrapping her fingers around the teacup. The liquid inside was dark, almost black, and when she sipped it, it was warm but not hot, rich with an unfamiliar taste that settled heavily on her tongue. She swallowed before speaking again.
"And humans?" Jellelle's gaze flickered with something unreadable. She leaned against the table, her posture casual but her attention sharp. "Humans," she echoed, tasting the word as if testing its weight. "You are... interesting. Fragile. Violent. Passionate." Her amber eyes met Mira's again, steady and direct. "You burn brightly, but you do not last."
Mira's fingers tightened around the teacup. "That sounds like an insult."
Jellelle's mouth curved slightly. "No. It is fact. You are like a candle flame—intense, beautiful, but fleeting. We are like the stars. We do not flicker. We endure."
Mira bit her lip as she ate, "I heard horror stories of this place, that all elves hate us but you seem to-"
Jellelle's face softened with an almost imperceptible shift. "Hate is a human emotion," she said. "We do not waste ourselves on such fleeting things." She reached forward and refilled Mira's teacup, her fingers brushing against the porcelain with delicate precision. "But that does not mean we welcome you here. You are... a curiosity. A spark that may either illuminate or burn too brightly." She leaned back slightly,
"But, I must get you dressed. Come, today is the opening ceremony." Mira set the cup down, her pulse quickening as she realized what that meant. She nodded, pushing back the covers and sliding out of bed. Her legs still felt weak, but she stood anyway, determined not to appear fragile in front of Jellelle. The elf watched her with something like approval as she moved.
"You are stronger than you look," she observed. "A small thing, but not easily broken." Mira couldn't tell if it was a compliment or a simple statement of fact, but she accepted it nonetheless. "I've had to be," she murmured.
Jellelle nodded, as if this answer satisfied her. She gestured toward the open chest where the Empress's dresses lay folded with careful precision.
She pulled out the fabric pursing her lips "Is all human clothing this.....covered?"
Mira glanced at the chest, "Yes, modesty is a virtue I suppose?"
Jellelle's brows lifted slightly. "Covering the body is covering the truth of it." She stepped closer, her movements fluid and silent. "This dress—it conceals everything. It is like putting a cage around a wild thing." She reached for the fabric, lifting it carefully between her fingers. The silk shimmered under the dim light, its golden threads catching faintly.
"Here, this one is acceptable." she said, extending the gown toward Mira. "You will wear this today."
Mira's throat tightened slightly. The dress was magnificent, far grander than anything she had expected to wear at the summit. The bodice was fitted, its high collar adorned with delicate embroidery that looked almost alive in the shifting light.
Mira smiled awkwardly, "Um. I-I really shouldn't draw to much attention-"
Jellelle's amber gaze flickered with something unreadable. "You will be noticed no matter what you wear," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "But you may as well look like a queen when you are."
She laid the dress across the bed with careful hands, then turned to Mira. "Undress. I will assist with the lacings."
Mira hesitated for only a moment before nodding, turning her back slightly as she unlaced the simple shift she had worn to sleep. The cool air of the room prickled against her skin as she pulled the fabric over her head. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't expected, even knowing that Jellelle would see her bare back.
"You have curves, that dress you wore did nothing for you." Mira winced, "I looked that bad huh?"
"No," Jellelle replied, her voice soft as she helped slide the gown's bodice into place. "Not bad. Merely... hidden. Like putting a jewel in a sack.
" Her fingers worked quickly and expertly, the lacings pulling tight in a way that felt both constricting and perfectly fitted. The golden threads in the fabric caught the dim light as she adjusted the bodice, making it appear as if liquid fire flowed across Mira's torso. The high collar framed her neck gracefully, while the skirts pooled around her feet in layers of shimmering fabric.
"The Empress's seamstresses have done well," Jellelle continued, stepping back to assess her work.
"Come, I will fix your hair. It's length rivals ours." Mira stiffened slightly at the elf's words, but she allowed herself to be guided toward the small, ornate chair near the bed.
She had never allowed anyone to style her hair before—it had always been her task alone. The feeling of Jellelle's fingers brushing through her dark strands was strange, unfamiliar. The elf worked with surprising gentleness, her movements precise and methodical. At first, she merely combed through the tangles with a delicate silver comb, the teeth catching on knots before slipping free.
"Do you do this for everyone?" Mira asked quietly, watching in the mirror as Jellelle's hands moved.
Jellelle's amber eyes met hers briefly in the reflection. "No," she admitted.
"I was tasked with keeping an eye on you, there is only three human envoys here a total of twelve including you."
Mira's fingers tightened slightly in her lap. "That's... comforting," she said, her tone dry.
Jellelle's mouth quirked slightly as she continued braiding. "Don't worry it's nothing personal the Dawn Keeper distrusts all humans, he's much older than I. He has his reasons."
Mira's eyes fell as she recalled the brief history lesson Vael gave her, "So I've heard."
Jellelle's hands paused in their work, her amber eyes darkening as she considered your words. "The Dawn Keeper's methods are... particular," she continued, her fingers resuming their careful braiding. "He values obedience above all else. Those who cannot or will not comply..."
She let the sentence hang unfinished, the unspoken threat hanging in the air like smoke. The braids she wove into her hair were intricate, the strands interlaced in patterns that seemed almost alive. She worked in silence for several minutes, the only sound the gentle whisper of hair being twisted and the occasional soft click of the silver comb against bone. When she finally stepped back, the transformation was striking.
Jellelle smiled, "Is this the beauty you were referring to earlier? It seems you posses it as well."
Mira inhaled sharply at her reflection. The braids Jellelle had created were a masterpiece—layered and woven together with such skill that it looked like living art. The plaits cascaded down her back in a series of intricate knots, small golden pins catching the light here and there. Her own face seemed more defined, more striking than she had ever seen it before. The high collar of the dress framed her neck perfectly, the golden embroidery catching the light as she moved. She couldn't help the small, awed breath that escaped her.
"I... I didn't know I could look like this." Jellelle's smile was subtle but genuine.
"Now you do," she said simply. She turned toward the door, her movements fluid and graceful. "The ceremony begins in two hours. We must go."
Mira stood, her fingers unconsciously smoothing the fabric of her dress. The golden threads seemed to shift with her movement, as if alive. She followed Jellelle toward the door, her footsteps silent on the strange, shifting floor. As they stepped into the corridor beyond, Mira realized the true scope of the castle's grandeur. The walls seemed to breathe, the stone pulsing with an inner light that made the shadows dance. The air was heavy with something indefinable—ozone and something sweet, like crushed herbs. Jellelle led her through a series of twisting passages, each more grand and unsettling than the last. High archways stretched overhead, carved with scenes of ancient battles, of elves standing triumphant over fallen figures that Mira didn't recognize. Some looked distinctly human. She averted her eyes, focusing instead on the intricate patterns woven into the rugs beneath her feet. The fabric was impossibly soft, the colors shifting as she walked, like living things.
"You don't have to stare at the floor," Jellelle said after a while, amusement coloring her words. "Unless you're afraid of what you'll see."
Mira lifted her head, meeting the elf's amber eyes. "I just..."
"Everything is so unfamilar-" A set of elves walked into the hall she zipped her lips and stared ahead, her heart pounding.
The elves moved with effortless grace, their steps silent on the stone. Their clothing was rich, the fabric shifting in ways that made it look almost liquid as they passed. Some had hair the color of fire, others like polished silver. Their skin gleamed in the strange light, their eyes reflecting like pools of molten metal. Mira held her breath as they drew closer, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her dress.
"Lower your head slightly," Jellelle murmured, not looking at her. "It is respectful." Mira obeyed immediately, lowering her chin as she had seen the Vael do to the elves. The movement felt foreign, almost humiliating, but she forced herself to maintain it as the elves drew near.
They passed without a word, but as they did, Mira felt the full force of their attention settle upon her like a physical thing. Their gazes felt like cold metal pressing against her skin, weighing her, measuring her worth. One of them—a male with hair like polished copper—paused slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied her. His gaze flickered to the intricate braids Jellelle had woven into her hair, and for a moment, a flicker of something—amusement? Disdain?—crossed his face. Then he turned away, and they continued down the corridor, leaving only a faint, lingering trace of something like woodsmoke in their wake. Jellelle exhaled softly beside her.
"They saw you," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "You did well." Mira lifted her head, the back of her neck stiff with tension.
"They hate me," she said, the words emerging as a statement rather than a question. Jellelle's expression remained impassive, but there was something unreadable in her amber eyes.
"Hatred is human," she replied. "They do not hate you. They merely do not know what to make of you yet." She continued walking, her pace steady and unhurried. "Come. The Dawn Keeper will expect you soon."
The corridor ahead opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling so high it seemed to disappear into the darkness above. When they approached she saw the rest of the envoys Vael had his back to her, she stepped quietly ahead he was going to skin her alive once he realized what she looked like. The vast chamber was unlike anything Mira had ever seen. Towering columns of smooth black stone stretched toward the distant ceiling, each carved with scenes of battle and conquest. At the far end of the hall, a raised dais loomed, where an elaborate throne sat empty. The room was already filled with figures—elves, she assumed, though they were so striking in their beauty and presence that they seemed almost otherworldly. Their clothing was rich, adorned with intricate embroidery that seemed to move with a life of its own. Some wore armor—light, elegant pieces of metal that caught the strange, shifting light. Others wore flowing robes that shifted like water with every movement.
Mira took a slow step forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She felt every pair of eyes in the room land on her—some curious, some coldly assessing, some outright hostile. Her stomach twisted with nerves, but she forced herself to keep her chin lifted, to meet their gaze even as her heart hammered against her ribs. Vael stood at the edge of the gathered envoys, his back still turned to her. His rigid posture spoke volumes. When he finally turned, his blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly before his features settled into something carefully neutral. Jellelle, left her at once to stand amongst the other elves she met Vael's eyes he approached a fake smile plastered on his face. Vael's expression didn't change as he approached, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Mira," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "You look... different." His gaze swept over the intricate braids Jellelle had woven into her hair, the golden threads in the fabric of the dress, the way the high collar framed her neck. There was something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the transformation—something that made her shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
"You should have told me you planned to dress like this," he continued, his words soft but carrying an edge.
"The Dawn Keeper has specific expectations for human envoys. Simplicity. Modesty. This..."
"I tried." She hissed, "My attendant was most adamant if I declined it would have been suspicious." Vael's mouth pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"Understood," he said, though it was clear he didn't approve. He glanced toward the empty throne at the far end of the chamber, then back at her. "The Dawn Keeper will make his entrance soon. Remember—keep your gaze lowered when he speaks, unless directly addressed. Do not speak unless necessary. And for the love of all that is merciful, do not challenge him."
Mira's throat felt dry. "I don't plan to."
Vael's gaze returned to hers, his face softening almost imperceptibly. "I know you don't," he said, his words quieter now. He sighed, "You may look outlandish but in comparison to the female elves, you're not much to look at let's pray that saves you-"
Vael turned his gaze toward the throne as footsteps echoed across the stone floor, the sound impossibly loud in the hushed chamber. The elves who had been speaking in low murmurs fell silent, their attention fixed on the far end of the hall. Mira followed their gaze and saw a figure moving between the towering columns—tall, with skin like polished opal and hair the color of Silver. His movements were slow and deliberate, each step measured as if he were counting the seconds of time itself. When he reached the throne, he turned to face the assembled envoys, and Mira's breath caught in her throat. His face was ageless—neither young nor old, but something ancient and unchanging. His eyes were pools of silver that seemed to reflect nothing, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. A crown of twisted branches crowned his head, each thorn-like tendril moving with a life of its own, casting shifting shadows across his face. He wore a long robe of deep red, embroidered with silver thread that glowed faintly in the dim light. When he spoke, his words were deep and rich, carrying effortlessly across the vast chamber without rising in volume.
"Welcome," he said, each syllable vibrating through the room like a physical presence.
"To this summit. I am the Dawn Keeper, and it is by my will alone that you stand here today." His gaze swept the assembled envoys, pausing briefly on each human before settling on Mira. She felt his attention like a physical weight, and her fingers curled tighter around the fabric of her dress.
"The humans," he continued, each word deliberate, "Have been allowed on my lands for one reason only."
"To witness the beginning of a new age." His silver eyes held Mira's with an intensity that made her stomach clench. "And to understand that in this new age, there is no place for their kind."
Vael stepped forward, his voice carrying clearly across the hall, "Your Majesty, we come in peace, to discuss terms that will benefit all parties-"
The Dawn Keeper's laughter cut him off, a sound like wind through dead leaves.
"Peace?" he echoed, his voice dripping with contempt. "You dare speak of peace to me?"
He gestured, and the shadows around the throne deepened, writhing like living things. "Your kind has brought only war to these lands."
Vael's face paled as he realized the terrible mistake he had made in interrupting the Dawn Keeper, but it was too late to take back his words. The assembled elves shifted uneasily, several drawing back as if expecting violence to erupt at any moment. The Dawn Keeper's silver eyes narrowed as he turned his attention fully on Vael, his voice becoming a low, dangerous purr.
"You forget your place, little human. You stand in my hall, addressing me as if we were equals."
The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop several degrees, Mira shut her eyes for someone that warned her about speaking out he made a fool of himself.
"Then why are we here?" Another human envoy asked, his hands trembling.
The Dawn Keeper's gaze flicked to the man, and for a moment, there was silence so heavy it was suffocating. When he spoke again, his words were like ice forming in the air. "Because I am merciful and will hear you out one final time before I shut my island to you all."
"This summit will either end in a contract or"
"in blood," the Dawn Keeper finished, his silver eyes burning like molten metal. "Choose carefully which it will be."
He turned away from Vael, his gaze sweeping the room once more. "Speak, humans. State your terms. If they do not suit me, you will not leave this island alive."
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered envoys. Some glanced nervously at the guards stationed along the walls—figures whose hands never strayed far from the hilts of their swords. Mira felt her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath shallow in her throat. Vael stepped back, his face pale as he gestured for the lead envoy to speak. The man—a middle-aged noble with thinning gray hair—stepped forward, his hands unsteady as he cleared his throat.
"Your Majesty, we propose a trade agreement," he said, his voice strained with effort to remain steady. "Resources from our lands for a portion of the magical artifacts your people create. We understand the... unique relationship between your kind and nature's forces."
The Dawn Keeper's lips curled slightly, not in amusement, but something colder. "You wish to take what is mine and exchange it for what you grow in your dirt?"
His silver eyes flashed as he leaned forward slightly in his throne. "How..."... generous of you," he drawled, each word thick with mockery.
The lead envoy swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "It would benefit both our peoples, Your Majesty. Your craftsmen could focus on more... specialized works, while our lands would have the advantage of your kind's... particular knowledge." The Dawn Keeper rose slowly from his throne, his height towering over even the tallest elves in the chamber.
The shadows around him deepened and coiled like living things as he descended the dais. Each step was deliberate, measured, and the assembled envoys instinctively backed away from his approach. He stopped before the lead envoy, his silver eyes boring into the man's with terrifying intensity.
"Your words are pretty," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "But I wonder... do you believe them yourself?"
The lead envoy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The Dawn Keeper's lips curled slightly, revealing teeth that were too white, too sharp. "You stand before me," he continued, "Seeking to claim what I have built over centuries, as if you were entitled to it." His voice dropped lower, almost intimate. "As if you had any right to bargain with me at all."
The lead envoy's knees buckled slightly, though he caught himself on the edge of the table before him. Sweat beaded at his temples despite the cool air in the chamber. Mira watched, paralyzed by the sheer presence of the Dawn Keeper as he continued his slow, relentless advance toward the envoys. She could see the lead envoy's hands shaking where they gripped the table's edge, the veins standing out in stark relief against his pale skin. The other envoys had gone completely still, like animals sensing the approach of a predator. Some of them looked ready to bolt, their shoulders hunched slightly as if they expected the Dawn Keeper to lunge at any moment. Vael stood rigid beside her, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin.
"What else do you pathetic humans have to offer me? Hmm?" The Dawn Keeper's words cut through the silence like a blade, sending a shudder through the gathered envoys.
The lead envoy opened his mouth, then closed it again, his throat working soundlessly. His fingers dug into the wooden table until his knuckles turned white. Mira felt Vael tense beside her, his breath coming shallow and quick. The air in the chamber seemed to thicken, pressing against her skin as the Dawn Keeper's silver eyes swept over the humans before him. His lips curled—not in a smile, but in something colder, hungrier.
"Speak," the Dawn Keeper commanded, each syllable carrying weight as if it were physically pressing down on the envoys.
The lead envoy's lips parted, then closed again as the words failed him. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his face pale as parchment. Sweat trickled down his temple despite the coolness of the chamber. Mira watched in horror as his hands shook against the table's edge. The other envoys shifted uncomfortably, some casting glances at the guards stationed along the walls. No one moved to help him.
"I..." the envoy began, his words faint and reedy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Your Majesty, we bring you... an offering." The Dawn Keeper tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes narrowing.
"An offering?" The envoy's throat worked as he swallowed, his fingers digging into the table's edge. "Yes, Your Majesty. A gift." His voice shook slightly. "A token of our... respect."
The Dawn Keeper's lips curved—not in a smile, but in something cold and sharp. "Respect," he echoed, his voice like the whisper of leaves before a storm. "How generous of you to deign to respect me."
The envoy flinched at the sarcasm, but forced himself to continue. "A relic," he said, reaching into the folds of his robe. "From the first days of our occupation of the Eastern Coast. A piece of your kind's... work."
The Dawn Keeper's eyes flickered with something unreadable as the envoy produced a small, intricately carved box. The wood was dark with age, inlaid with silver that caught the strange light of the chamber. As the envoy opened it, a faint golden glow spilled out, and a soft humming filled the air. Inside rested a small, faceted stone—a perfect prism of clear quartz, but with threads of silver running through it like veins. It pulsed faintly, as if responding to the Dawn Keeper's presence.
The silence in the chamber was absolute.
The Dawn Keeper stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. The elves around him had gone utterly still, their expressions tense with something like awe.
As the Dawn Keeper reached for the prism, the air in the chamber shifted. A chill descended, and the strange golden light from the stone dimmed, as if acknowledging his presence. His silver eyes reflected the prism's glow as he lifted it from the box with two fingers, turning it slowly in the light.
"The Sifting Stone," he murmured, his words carrying an almost intimate quality. "Where did you find this?"
The envoy's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "In the ruins of an old watchtower on the Eastern Shore, Your Majesty. We... we thought you might want it returned."
A long moment passed. Then the Dawn Keeper laughed—a sound like wind through dead leaves. Then in one moment after the other Mira saw red, the room erupted in screams as the humans took a step back. Mira flinched clamping her eyes shut. The humans recoiled as the Dawn Keeper's laughter twisted into something colder, sharper. The light from the Sifting Stone flickered wildly in his grasp, casting jagged shadows across his pale face. His silver eyes reflected the stone's glow like twin mirrors, and when he spoke again, his words cut through the chamber like a blade.
"Did you think," he said, his voice dripping with venom, "That I would accept your thieving hands returning something that was never yours to take?"
The envoy before him opened his mouth, but no words came out. His face had gone deathly pale, his lips quivering. Until he collapsed, "I decided. I'll kill you all."
The chamber erupted into chaos. Elves surged forward, their movements fluid and deadly as they drew their weapons in perfect unison. The Dawn Keeper's laughter still echoed off the stone walls, but now it was layered with something darker—something that made the air itself tremble. The envoy who had offered the Sifting Stone was already on his knees, blood trickling from his nose and ears, his body convulsing as the magic of the stone recoiled against him. He had seconds to live, if that. The other envoys scrambled back, some tripping over themselves in their haste to put distance between themselves and the Dawn Keeper.
Vael grabbed Mira's arm, his grip tight enough to bruise as he yanked her backward. "Move," he hissed, already dragging her toward the nearest exit.
She stumbled after him, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through her ribs. The air was thick with the hum of the Sifting Stone still clutched in the Dawn Keeper's hand, its light pulsing erratically now, feeding the storm of magic he was summoning. Around them, elves moved like shadows—some forming a protective ring around the Dawn Keeper, others advancing on the panicking envoys. They couldn't go anywhere the images of Kai flashed before her, if she didn't do something the Empress would kill him. She couldn't let that happen.
Mira jerked her arm free from Vael's grip, twisting away from him as he cursed. The nearest elf was already raising his sword toward one of the stumbling envoys—an older man who had served the Empress for decades. Without thinking, she lunged, shoving herself between them just as the blade came down.
She summoned her magic blocking the blow, the room stilled crackling with energy.
The elf's sword met her golden barrier with a metallic screech, sparks flying as she held firm. The elf's eyes widened in shock—not at her defiance, but at the raw power she wielded. The Dawn Keeper's laughter cut off abruptly as he turned his head toward the disturbance. His silver eyes locked onto Mira, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. His face was impossible to read, but his grip on the Sifting Stone tightened until his knuckles went white.
"Mira," Vael hissed behind her, his hand reaching for her shoulder but not quite touching. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. The Dawn Keeper's face contorted, his lips pulling back in a snarl that revealed teeth too sharp to be natural. The Sifting Stone in his hand began to pulse erratically, casting jagged patterns of light across his face. The chamber grew darker as the glow from the strange hanging crystals overhead dimmed, as if the very light itself recoiled from the gathering storm.
"A witch?" he murmured, his voice like winter wind through bare branches. "A witch on my lands."
His gaze bored into Mira's, and she felt something cold and invasive slither through her mind—a probe of magic that made her teeth clench against the intrusion. She knew she couldn't hold out for long. Mira's breath came out in short shallow gasps, "Yes." She took a step back summoning a larger shield around the humans, "I can't let you kill us. I won't."
The Dawn Keeper's face darkened, his lips twisting into something between a smile and a snarl. The Sifting Stone in his grasp pulsed faster, its light casting a sickly glow over the assembled elves. They stood utterly still, watching with rapt attention as their king faced off against a human witch.
"You dare to defy me?" The words fell from his mouth like icicles, sharp enough to cut. "In my own hall?"
Mira held her ground, though her legs shook beneath her. The shield around the envoys rippled as she fed more magic into it, feeling her strength ebb with every second. The Dawn Keeper's silver eyes flickered with something ancient and terrible as he regarded her.
She trembled, "Please. I will offer you magic- We can-" The Dawn Keeper tilted his head, studying her with predatory curiosity. "Offer me?"
he echoed, his words like silk wrapped around steel. "You think I would accept a bargain from a human who dares to wield magic on my soil?"
He moved closer, his presence pressing down like a physical force. The elves around him tensed, watching their king with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Mira could feel their attention like needles on her skin.
"I see why the Empress keeps you," he murmured, circling her now like a wolf examining prey. "You're not just a witch—you're desperate." His silver eyes glinted as he stepped closer. "That makes you dangerous."
Mira felt it the droplets of liquid spilling from her nose, she was using to much energy. "There has to be something-anything magic is useful. You don't have to like us-me just use me?"
The Dawn Keeper stopped mid-step, head tilting slightly as if considering her words. His silver eyes narrowed, the chamber was silent except for the ragged breathing of the terrified envoys and the faint hum of Mira's failing shield.
"You are very bold," he said, his words carrying an edge that made Mira's skin prickle. "To offer yourself to me as if you were some... gift." He paused, lips curling slightly. "Or perhaps a sacrifice."
Mira's throat went dry, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "I don't care what you call it." His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You would surrender yourself to me?"
She swallowed hard, feeling the press of his presence against her magic. "If it stops this."
The Dawn Keeper's silver eyes narrowed as he moved closer, close enough that she could see the faint threads of silver in his irises, the unnatural stillness of his features. "You think you could serve me?"
His words were soft, almost gentle, but there was nothing gentle in his eyes. "A human? A witch?" Her eyelids trembled as her magic waned, "I'm pretty damn good at that."
The Dawn Keeper's laugh was soft, almost amused. His free hand reached up, stopping just short of touching her face. The air between them vibrated with contained energy. "Indeed," he murmured. "You are good. But not strong enough to withstand what I would do to you." His fingers flexed slightly, as if imagining how they might close around her throat. "Not yet."
Mira didn't flinch, though every nerve in her body screamed at her to. "Then teach me."
The words came out before she could stop them, raw and desperate. Around them, the elves shifted uneasily, some exchanging glances with expressions caught between fascination and horror.