The air in the council room was thick with tension, the weight of the conversation pressing down on everyone present. Aethren stood at the forefront, his words lingering in the silence like a spark waiting to ignite. Varek, the ever-composed leader of the council, remained seated, his eyes narrowed but betraying a hint of doubt, a crack in his otherwise confident facade. Eryna, seated beside him, appeared less certain, her eyes flicking between Aethren and the rest of the council members.

The faint tremor beneath their feet had stopped, but the unease it caused remained, simmering like an undercurrent. It was as though the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The ground had shaken in response to Aethren’s plea, a silent witness to the rising tide of darkness that threatened to swallow everything.

"You expect us to believe that the Void, of all things, has infiltrated Caris?" Varek’s voice cut through the silence, his words tinged with skepticism but, underneath, a flicker of something else. Was it fear? Uncertainty? For a brief moment, Aethren almost thought he saw a shadow of doubt behind Varek’s usual cold composure.

"It’s not a belief," Aethren said, his voice steady and resolute. "It’s the truth. And I’m telling you this not for our sake, but for the sake of everyone in this city. We’ve seen it. We’ve fought it. It’s here, right beneath your noses."

"Enough of these theatrics," one of the older councilors, a man named Corvin, interrupted, his voice gruff. He was a hardened figure, one who had served in the council for decades, his authority unquestioned by most. "This is nothing more than paranoia. Caris has stood for centuries without falling to ancient forces. Why would we start believing in such… fairy tales now?"

Elyra stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and determination. "Because the city is already showing signs of corruption, Corvin. People are disappearing. Shadows in the streets have become… alive. We’ve seen it with our own eyes. There’s a darkness spreading, and it’s coming from within your own walls."

Corvin sneered. "And what do you expect us to do? March into the streets with torches and pitchforks, hunting for ghosts?"

"I expect you to act," Aethren replied, his voice cutting through the dismissive tone. "I expect you to take this seriously. This isn't a threat that can be ignored. If we don't act now, Caris will be gone before you can even comprehend what’s happening."

There was a long, heavy silence as the councilors exchanged glances, murmurs drifting through the room. Varek’s sharp eyes were still fixed on Aethren, his gaze piercing as though trying to read his very soul. Eryna, however, was looking away, her fingers drumming lightly on the wooden table, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with suspicion. Even as Aethren spoke, he could sense that some of them still hadn’t truly grasped the gravity of the situation. They were too entrenched in their own power, too blinded by their egos or their personal agendas to truly see what was unfolding right in front of them.

"We’re not asking for your trust," Elyra said, her voice carrying more weight than Aethren had expected. "We’re asking for your action. If you want to save this city, you need to listen. Now."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

At her words, the room grew quieter still. The tension was palpable, and for a long moment, it felt like time had frozen. Aethren could feel the weight of it, the realization that everything—everything they had fought for, everything they had sacrificed—hung in the balance. If they didn’t win over the council now, if they didn’t have the city’s support, they might as well be fighting the Void alone.

And that was a battle they couldn’t afford to lose.

Varek leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. His gaze never wavered from Aethren, but for the first time, there was something in his expression—a crack, a momentary lapse in his unshakable composure. "You ask for our trust. But trust is not easily given. You come in here, telling us stories of disappearances and shadows, yet you have no proof. What is it you want, Aethren? What is it you expect us to do?"

Aethren’s chest tightened as the weight of the question hit him. What did he expect? What did they all expect from this room full of cold, calculating politicians? Was there anything they could say that would sway them? Any argument that would convince them to act?

"Proof?" Aethren echoed. His grip on the Cleansing Flame tightened. "I’ve already given you proof. You saw the tremor. You felt it. You know it wasn’t natural. And the disappearances? The shadows? You can deny them all you want, but they’re real. And I don’t have to tell you what happens next. The Void doesn’t wait. It won’t wait for you to make up your minds."

There was a long, painful silence before Varek spoke again, his voice quiet, almost contemplative. "I’m not a fool, Aethren. But neither am I a puppet. If this city falls, it falls on my watch. I’ll be the one to answer for it. But I won’t act on feelings or visions. I need more than that. I need something concrete."

"And if we don’t have proof for you," Elyra said sharply, "then the city’s death will be your fault. Not ours."

The room fell into an uneasy stillness. Aethren could feel the weight of Elyra’s words. It was a gamble—a dangerous one—but they were running out of time.

At that moment, the door to the chamber slammed open with an unexpected force, and a figure stepped inside.

It was a young man, breathing heavily as though he had run a great distance. His face was pale, his eyes wide with panic. Aethren recognized him immediately—it was Alaric, a trusted informant from the city’s lower districts.

"There’s no time," Alaric gasped, stumbling into the room. "It’s happening again! More people are disappearing—right now! And… and the shadows are moving—alive, like you said. I saw them myself. They're gathering at the old temple in the north."

The council members looked at one another, their faces a mixture of disbelief and growing concern. Aethren’s heart raced. This was the proof they needed, but even now, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of dread. The Void was active again, spreading its tendrils into the heart of Caris.

"I… I tried to stop them," Alaric continued, his voice shaking. "But they’ve got someone—someone important—locked away in the temple. I couldn’t get close. But they’re planning something. Something big."

"Where?" Aethren demanded, stepping forward. "Tell me, Alaric."

"The old temple," Alaric repeated, his voice breathless. "It’s where the first signs appeared. It’s happening again. Now."

Aethren didn’t waste another moment. Without waiting for the council’s approval, he turned to Elyra, Rhael, and Thalira. "We need to go. Now."

"Let’s move," Elyra said, her hand already on the hilt of her sword.

As they turned to leave, Aethren cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Varek was staring at them, his expression unreadable. Eryna’s gaze, however, was fixed on Aethren, her eyes searching for something—perhaps a flicker of the truth that had eluded her until now.

Aethren didn’t wait for their approval. He knew what he had to do. The city’s fate had been sealed the moment they had ignored the signs. Now, it was up to him and his companions to stop it before it was too late.