The council reconvened beneath the high vaulted ceiling of the Central Kingdom as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Hours of rest had done little to soften tempers. If anything, the air felt tighter—like a drawn bow waiting to snap.
The Alpha of the Central Kingdom stood at the head once more.
"We will vote," he announced. "Now."
No speeches. No arguments.
The map still lay open on the table, its dark markings accusing them all.
One by one, the rulers spoke.
Some voted for immediate reclamation—total war, unified armies, no delay.
Others sided with restraint, strategy, and San Qi's warning.
When the final count was made, the chamber stilled.
Even.
All eyes turned to the last figure who had not yet spoken.
The Queen rose slowly.
Kaelenna's mother did not look at the map. She looked at San Qi.
"I have buried soldiers," she said calmly. "I have buried friends. And I have buried a daughter I am not certain I will ever see again."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"But rage has never brought the dead back," she continued. "San Qi speaks of traps, of patience, of enemies who want us divided. I believe him."
She inhaled once.
"I vote against immediate reclamation."
The balance tipped.
For half a heartbeat, the chamber was silent.
Then a chair scraped violently against stone.
"So this is it?" a king snarled, rising to his feet. "We bow to fear now? We let outsiders decide our fate because one Alpha feels uneasy?"
San Qi's aura flared before he could stop it.
The temperature dropped.
The king turned toward the Queen, his voice sharp with bitterness.
"Your judgment is clouded by loss, Your Majesty. Perhaps grief has made you—"
That was as far as he got.
A thunderous crack echoed as San Qi's hand struck the table, splintering stone.
The Alpha of the Central Kingdom moved instantly.
"Enough!" he commanded. "This council will not devolve into bloodshed."
He turned sharply toward the servants lining the walls.
"Prepare the banquet. Now."
The abrupt shift caught everyone off guard.
Tables were drawn out. Wine was poured. Food followed. The calculated mundanity of it forced the tension to loosen—slowly, unwillingly.
Whispers replaced shouts.
The offending king was nudged forward by one of the Central Kingdom's aides.
"Go," the man murmured. "Make peace."
Reluctantly, the king approached the Queen, a goblet of wine in his hand.
"My words were… ill-chosen," he said stiffly. "Allow me to apologize."
The Queen studied him for a long moment, then accepted the cup.
She raised it once—and drank.
All of it.
The goblet slipped from her fingers.
At first, no one understood what they were seeing.
Then she staggered.
White foam spilled from her lips.
A scream tore through the hall.
Chaos erupted.
"Healers!"
"Poison!"
"Assassination!"
The Queen collapsed, her body convulsing as guards rushed forward. San Qi was at her side in an instant, fury crashing through him like a storm.
His senses flared.
Too late.
One cup. One gulp.
No residue on the table. No trace in the air.
The Alpha of the Central Kingdom barked orders, his face pale.
"Seal the exits! No one leaves!"
But even as he spoke, doubt flickered across his eyes.
He did not understand what had happened.
He did not understand how.
The banquet hall became a battlefield of confusion and grief.
Hours later, the council reconvened—not in anger, but in mourning.
The Queen was dead.
Silence pressed down on the gathered rulers like a shroud.
Finally, an elder spoke what none wished to say.
"This matter has gone beyond diplomacy."
One by one, the kings and Alphas withdrew their voices.
They would not interfere.
They would not involve their kingdoms.
The decision fell to San Qi.
The Alpha of the Central Kingdom turned to him.
"You are granted the right to war," he said solemnly. "Against the kingdom whose ruler brought the wine. What follows… will be on your shoulders."
San Qi nodded slowly.
Inside him, Frienor was silent.
Amarok snarled for blood.
He knew—deep down—that something had been missed.
But murder was murder.
Stepping forward, his voice carried through the chamber like a decree carved in stone.
"I declare war."
A ripple passed through the room.
"Any kingdom that allies with that ruler," San Qi continued, "will be treated as an enemy."
No one argued.
Because they all understood what had just been unleashed.
As the council dissolved, each ruler returned to their own calculations.
Alliances. Survival. Profit.
And San Qi stood alone, staring at the empty seat where Kaelenna's mother had once ruled—knowing the world had chosen its path.
And so had he.