The meeting concluded with a sense of finality, the Twelve Great Elders’ attention turning to the three representatives preparing for their journey to the Western Gerthrig Continent.
Lord Terrace, Lord Acheon, Elder White Fang, Clan Leader Hina, and Lord Leah exited the chamber quietly, the weight of their responsibilities pressing down on them. As the doors closed behind them, the echo lingered in the stone corridor. Silence stretched for a moment until Elder White Fang broke it, his gaze shifting to Lord Terrace and Lord Acheon.
“Well, now that we have a moment,” White Fang began, his voice calm but with a note of curiosity that suggested he had been waiting for this. “It’s time you shared what happened during your visit to Elderglow Academy. Something tells me it was anything but ordinary.”
Lord Terrace’s jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. “You aren’t wrong,” he said, his voice low. “It started simply enough—reconnecting with Dean Godsthorn and ensuring the academy’s readiness. But things escalated quickly.”
Lord Acheon leaned against the wall, his arms folded. “Escalated is putting it lightly,” he remarked dryly, a faint hint of amusement coloring his words.
Elder White Fang’s interest sharpened. “Explain.”
“An attempt was made on my life,” Lord Terrace said bluntly, his blue eyes cold and unflinching. “And on my son’s.”
The statement hung heavily in the air. Clan Leader Hina’s eyes widened, and Lord Leah drew a sharp breath. Even White Fang’s calm exterior hardened.
“Who was responsible?” White Fang demanded, his voice suddenly laced with steel.
“A noble named Paul Haylen,” Lord Acheon answered, his tone devoid of emotion. “A man with delusions of grandeur and more ambition than sense. He thought hiring assassins would solve his problems.”
Clan Leader Hina’s expression darkened. “I’ve heard of Haylen. Small-time noble, but dangerous when cornered. How did you deal with him?”
Lord Terrace’s gaze was steady. “I handled it,” he said simply.
“Handled it?” White Fang repeated, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. “You mean he no longer poses a threat.”
Terrace didn’t blink. “He has learned the consequences of his actions,” he replied. “Permanently.”
Silence fell again, but it was different this time—charged with understanding. The others grasped the meaning behind Terrace’s words. Whatever fate had befallen Paul Haylen, it was enough to ensure he would never pose a danger again.
Lord Acheon shifted, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course, handling things the Terrace way involves a fair bit of collateral damage.”
Terrace’s mouth quirked slightly. “He deserved every moment of it.”
“Sounds like quite the spectacle,” White Fang said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Though I’m sure Dean Godsthorn wasn’t pleased.”
“Surprisingly, he took it well,” Lord Acheon added. “It seems old rivalries keep him grounded.”
White Fang’s brow furrowed. “Old rivalries?”
“Dean Dethrein,” Lord Acheon supplied, his tone darkening. “He was the real reason for our visit to Elderglow, wasn’t he?”
White Fang’s gaze became unreadable. “You could say that,” he admitted. “I suspected he might involve himself in the academy’s affairs. Did he speak with you directly?”
“No,” Lord Terrace replied. “But his influence was clear. Whatever he’s plotting, it isn’t minor.”
Clan Leader Hina’s eyes narrowed, concern evident. “Dethrein is a dangerous man, even when he plays by the rules. If he’s involved, we must tread carefully.”
The conversation shifted, tension simmering just below the surface. The group discussed the implications of Dethrein’s involvement, each voice contributing to the weight of their concerns. Finally, Elder White Fang’s attention returned fully to Lord Terrace and Lord Acheon.
“Was there anything else?” he asked, though his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.
“Plenty,” Lord Terrace said, his tone softening. “But the rest can wait.”
A hint of satisfaction crossed White Fang’s face. He turned to his sister, Clan Leader Hina, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “I believe you owe me something.”
Hina sighed, exasperation mingling with amusement. “Of course, you would find a way to win our wager,” she said, shaking her head. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something,” White Fang replied lightly. “Consider it a debt I’ll collect when it suits me.”
Before the conversation could continue, their attention shifted back to more pressing matters. Talk of Paul Haylen’s fate resurfaced, with Lord Terrace making it clear that he had already dealt with the problem. “Any further action would be unnecessary,” he said firmly. “He has been neutralized.”
“But if his influence lingers—” Clan Leader Hina began.
“It won’t,” Terrace interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “The message was clear.”
The debate threatened to escalate, but before it could, the chamber doors opened. The three Elders selected to travel to the Western Continent stepped out, their expressions grim. They moved with purpose, passing by Lord Terrace’s group without a word, heading toward their next mission.
Elder White Fang exhaled, the weight of their mission pressing back upon them. “It’s time.”
They reentered the chamber for a final briefing with the Twelve Great Elders. Instructions were given, the path ahead laid out with unflinching clarity. Once the discussion concluded, the group made their way through the fortress’s winding corridors to the teleportation array chamber. The air was thick with anticipation, each step carrying them closer to their next destination.
At the chamber’s threshold, Clan Leader Hina turned to her companions. “May your journey be safe,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “We will meet again.” Discover more stories at empire
The others nodded, exchanging brief farewells. As the runes of the array began to glow, a soft light enveloped them. Just before the teleportation activated, a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground, catching Hina’s attention. She bent down, picking it up. The array activated, sending the group on their way, and she unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was unmistakable—Elder White Fang’s. The words were simple but carried a depth that only she would understand: “To my family.” fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
Hina closed her eyes for a moment, then tucked the note away. Whatever her brother had meant, it was a reminder that they all carried their own burdens—and that the bonds of family, however strained, still mattered. She turned away, the mission ahead weighing heavily on her mind.
