Vivian.
Night did not fall gently over the Northern Estate.
It descended like a verdict.
Torches ignited along the high terraces, their flames bending sharply in the relentless northern wind. The light flickered across cold stone walls and tall windows that reflected nothing but darkness.
The estate did not feel like a home now.
It felt like a fortress preparing for siege.
Or judgment.
I entered the Council Hall between my mother and Sebastian.
No escort had been assigned.
No guard required.
Power does not need chains when expectation is stronger.
The hall was vast — stone columns rising like ancient sentinels, banners of lineage hanging in solemn rows. Symbols of bloodlines watched from above like silent witnesses who had seen centuries pass and never forgotten a single choice made beneath them.
At the far end, the Council of Blood sat in a wide semicircle, elevated above the obsidian floor.
Not rulers.
Not judges.
But something older.
