In an office adorned with intricate, symmetrical patterns carved into stone walls and illuminated by soft, golden light, a man sat at his desk. The room, though grand in scale, reflected the strict austerity of its owner. The desk itself was spotless, every parchment and quill precisely arranged. His robes, while undeniably of the finest quality, bore a design that spoke of purpose rather than extravagance. This was a palace of order, and opulence had no place within its hallowed halls.
The man appeared youthful, but there was a depth to his amber eyes that spoke of countless years of wisdom and observation. His features were almost unnaturally smooth, his complexion devoid of blemishes or imperfections. Though undeniably human in shape, his beauty edged toward something otherworldly—rivaling the allure of a siren yet firmly masculine. His short, dark brown hair, streaked with flecks of silver, betrayed his true age, hinting at a life spent under the heavy mantle of duty. His clean-shaven face and precise demeanor completed the image of a man who embodied discipline.
“A new aether beast, you say?” he asked, his voice as calm and measured as his surroundings.
“Yes,” replied the priestess standing before him. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, though whether from respect or residual fear was unclear. “It spoke. Not disjointed words, either—full sentences, articulate and deliberate. Whether it was capable of genuine thought or had merely learned language as a means to terrorize the faithful, I cannot say.”
The man’s gaze sharpened, his amber eyes seeming to pierce through her. “What did it look like?” he asked.
The priestess hesitated, her composure faltering as she recalled the memory. “It stood almost as tall as the watchtower,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Its form was vaguely feminine but grotesquely distorted—tall and wiry, with jagged spines and cruel, sharp edges that jutted from its body. Its most terrifying feature…” She paused, visibly shuddering. “...were its eyes. Five of them, pure black, yet they seemed to glow with an unnatural light in the darkness. They were fixed upon us, unblinking, like it was studying us.”
“Troubling,” the man stated, his tone neutral, betraying neither alarm nor doubt. “You did fend it off, though?”
The priestess nodded quickly. “Yes, with the valiance of the soldiers stationed there and the power of my Dawn Aetherium, we were able to drive the creature away. It fled toward the steppes.”
For a long moment, the man was silent, his gaze distant as he processed her report. A new aether beast—a talking one, no less—was cause for concern. Such creatures rarely demonstrated intelligence or articulation beyond guttural sounds and fragmented words, making this an anomaly. Yet, what troubled him most was the direction it had fled.
The steppes.
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as his thoughts turned over the implications. The Serkoth clans had long resisted the Sovereignty’s efforts to bring them into the fold, their stubbornness proving a constant thorn in the side of order. If this beast was headed into their lands, it could mean one of two things: either it sought to terrorize the beastfolk, as it had the faithful, or it intended to align with them. The latter possibility was far more concerning.
The priestess stood silently, awaiting further instruction, though the tension in her stance betrayed her unease. Finally, the man spoke, his voice as cold and precise as the gears of a clock.
“Thank you for your report, Solenne. Continue your prayers for guidance and strengthen your watch over the faithful,” he commanded. “I will consider this matter personally. If this creature aligns itself with the Serkoth or their allies, it could prove a threat greater than their defiance alone. May you live in the grace of the Architect.”
“As with you, High Priest Kaelen.” The priestess bowed deeply, murmuring her gratitude before taking her leave, the soft echo of her footsteps fading as she exited the room. The man remained seated, staring at nothing in particular as his mind worked through the possibilities.
“A talking aether beast,” he murmured to himself, his fingers tapping softly on the desk. “Curious. And troubling.”
After a moment’s thought, he reached for the quill and parchment, penning a letter in his immaculate handwriting. The Circle would need to know of this development—and more importantly, preparations would need to be made.
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Since arriving in Nymoria, Vivienne’s experiences had been a strange collection of sights and sensations. First, the dark, crystal-lit ruin where shadows danced and whispered—a place filled with delicious aetheric morsels. Then, a forest cloaked in fear, its trees sheltering a pitiful little dawn priestess and a scattering of terrified mortals. And finally, a modest village, populated by nervous folk who scurried like mice at the sight of her.
But this... this was something entirely different.
Beyond the polished white walls of the Serkoth Clanhome lay a sprawling metropolis, alive with movement and purpose. The city's heartbeat thrummed in the air, a rhythm of commerce, tradition, and vigilance. Stone pathways wove between towering structures, each adorned with intricate carvings depicting lekine history: fierce battles, triumphs over nature, and the unyielding strength of the pack. Bridges spanned over streams and canals that cut through the city, their waters glinting like molten silver under the midday light.
The air was thick with the scents of roasting meats, wildflowers, and the faint metallic tang of freshly forged weapons. Lekine of all shapes and sizes moved with purpose, their fur ranging from earthy browns to icy whites, accented with ceremonial braids, beads, and streaks of paint. Children darted between market stalls, laughter ringing out as merchants called to passers-by, their wares gleaming on display tables. Hunters, blacksmiths, and warriors mingled alongside scholars and healers, their distinct roles woven seamlessly into the fabric of the city’s life.
There were also people unlike any Vivienne had encountered before. Beyond the humans and the wolf-like lekine she already knew, the city teemed with an array of otherworldly figures. Tall, androgynous folk moved gracefully through the crowd, their fins shimmering along their forearms and calves like the delicate frills of deep-sea creatures. Among them walked individuals with three arms branching from each shoulder, their pitch-black skin dazzling like constellations come to life. Starbinders, Vivienne guessed, intrigued by their celestial allure. And then there were goblins—a bustling, lively presence with wide, expressive eyes, pointed teeth, and large ears of varying sizes that twitched at every sound. Their button noses added a strange charm to their sharp features, and she noted, with some curiosity, that all the goblins she saw were women, their forms unusually generous for such diminutive frames. Not a single male goblin was in sight.
The sheer diversity was intoxicating, a far cry from the desolate ruins and shadowed forests Vivienne had known until now. Her gaze roamed from face to face, tracing the intricate stories etched into every figure she saw—each bead in a braid, every streak of paint, each quirk of form a testament to lives she could only imagine. The vibrancy of it all threatened to overwhelm her, yet she welcomed it like a long-awaited feast. Her smile grew wider, her excitement barely restrained.
“They’re staring at you,” Rava murmured, her voice low and edged with tension.
Vivienne hummed, a note of amusement threading through her tone. “And I am staring at them,” she replied, her quintet of eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Is this not how introductions are made?”
“I suppose that’s your way of doing things,” Rava said dryly, guiding a distracted Vivienne out of the path of a lekine hunter whose wide-eyed stare lingered a moment too long. “First, a long, unsettling stare from a creature plucked from nightmares. Next, friendship.”
“Exactly! You understand me.” Vivienne clacked her claws together in delight, the sound light and ringing like crystalline windchimes. “I just want to make friends with everyone. And if I take a little nibble on their aether now and then, it’s purely to get acquainted. Like how a dog sniffs things, you know? Completely harmless.”
Rava gave her a sideways glance, one brow raised in sharp scepticism. “So, you’re admitting to being a beast, then?” she asked, smirking.
Vivienne placed a hand over her chest, mock scandal painted across her face. “Beast? I prefer the term ‘mystical predator with flair,’ thank you.”
Rava huffed a laugh despite herself and shook her head. “You’ll need more than flair to survive here, Viv. My people may be curious now, but curiosity fades quickly when danger feels too close.”
“Danger?” Vivienne repeated, tilting her head, her grin mischievous. “Why, I wouldn’t hurt a hair on their adorable furry heads unless, of course, one of them attacks me. Then I might have to get a little creative.”
Rava’s smirk vanished. “Vivienne.”
“Fine, fine,” Vivienne sighed, waving her hand. “I’ll behave. No clawing, biting, or ‘creative’ self-defence unless absolutely necessary. See? Completely civilised.”
Rava shook her head, the sternness in her expression softening slightly. “I hope you mean that. My people are proud, Viv. The Serkoth Clan values honour and tradition above all else. If you cross the wrong line…”
“I won’t,” Vivienne interrupted, her tone gentler. She held Rava’s gaze, and the playful edge she so often wielded softened into something genuine. “You have my word. No trouble. Not here, not in your home. Not unless asked.”
Rava studied her intently, her lupine features taut with lingering doubt. After a moment, she nodded. “Good. Because when you meet my mother, you’ll need to be on your best—no, better behaviour than usual.” She paused, her expression growing sombre. “She’s the first wall of the steppes—strong, unyielding, unshakeable. A protector to her people and a storm to those who stand against them.”
“She sounds like an incredible woman,” Vivienne said softly, her voice carrying a wistful undertone. Her quintet of eyes flickered with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I wonder… what my children thought of me.”
Rava’s features softened, the edge of formality in her posture melting away. “If what I’ve seen is anything to go by,” she began, her tone thoughtful, “they would have seen someone funny, caring, and intelligent—a person worth looking up to.”
Vivienne’s cheeks darkened, the faint flush contrasting against her otherwise inhuman features. She smiled coyly, her voice quieter now. “You’re trying to make me blush, aren’t you?”
Rava snorted, folding her arms as her tail gave an impatient flick. “If I wanted to embarrass you, I’d just recount all the times you’ve tried to ‘charm’ me and flopped harder than a fish on dry land.”
“Oh, but those weren’t failures,” Vivienne countered with a slow, sly grin, leaning just a touch closer, her voice dipping into a velvet purr. “And deep down, you know it.”
Rava arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, though the faintest twitch of her ears betrayed her. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I, though?” Vivienne teased, straightening with a mock-innocent shrug. “Or are you just reluctant to admit that you’re secretly entertained by my relentless efforts?”
Rava let out a dramatic sigh and began walking again, shaking her head. “Entertained, maybe. But it’s like watching a pup bark at its own shadow—adorable, in a pitiful sort of way.”
Vivienne let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching her chest. “Wounded! Betrayed! I’ll have you know that I am a master of seduction, subtlety, and intrigue.”
“Subtlety?” Rava shot her a pointed look over her shoulder. “You? The creature who literally radiates with dusk aether and has claws that click like chimes when you’re excited?”
Vivienne paused mid-step, her grin never faltering. “Fine. Perhaps not subtle. But irresistible? Absolutely.”
Rava turned away, clearly done with the exchange, but Vivienne swore she saw the corner of her companion’s mouth twitch in amusement.
Ahead of them loomed a massive structure, its towering presence dwarfing the surrounding buildings. It rose at least twice as high as any other edifice Vivienne had seen thus far, its sleek walls composed of the same polished white stone that made up the city’s outer defences. The stone gleamed in the fading light, catching the last rays of the sun as it bathed the structure in a warm, golden glow. Despite its size, there was an elegance to it—its smooth surface interrupted only by intricate carvings and towering columns that seemed to stretch into the sky.
Vivienne could feel the weight of history in the air, as if the building held not just the present, but the echoes of countless generations before her. She couldn’t help but marvel at it, her dark eyes tracing every curve and detail of the stonework, her excitement bubbling up again.
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“This is it?” she asked, her voice soft, almost reverent as she gazed at the monument before her.
Rava’s tail flicked with a mixture of pride and apprehension. “This is the Hall of the Serkoth Clan,” she replied, her voice steady but with an edge of something else—respect, maybe, or even a touch of awe. “It’s not just a building; it’s the heart of our people. Everything you see here—this city, these walls, the very land we walk on—it’s all shaped by the legacy of my clan.”
Vivienne nodded, her smile turning more contemplative. She could sense the weight of those words, the reverence Rava held for this place. It wasn’t just a structure—it was a symbol of survival, of strength, and of everything Rava held dear.
As they drew closer, the entrance to the Hall loomed before them—a grand archway framed by towering statues of ancient warriors, their eyes sculpted with such precision and intensity that it almost felt as though they were watching with quiet judgement. The doors themselves were massive, crafted from thick, weathered wood that bore the marks of age, yet stood firm with enduring strength. Their surface was adorned with intricate carvings, scenes of battles won, ancestors revered, and gods honoured—a testament to the clan’s rich history and their unbroken lineage.
Flanking either side of the entrance stood two lekine guards, a man and a woman, their presence commanding and stoic. The man was broad-shouldered, his fur a deep, earthy brown, and his gaze as sharp as the blade at his side. The woman, standing just a step behind him, had a sleek white coat with streaks of silver running down her arms, her posture as poised as her expression. They stood like statues themselves, seemingly a part of the very architecture, their eyes scanning the approaching figures with careful scrutiny.
Rava approached them with a quiet confidence, her tail swishing just once before she stopped in front of the guards. She exchanged a few low words with them in a language Vivienne didn’t recognize, and the guards nodded, stepping aside with a synchronised fluidity that seemed rehearsed.
Without another word, Rava placed her hand on the door, pushing it open with a deep groan as the heavy wood creaked under her touch. The sound echoed in the hall, drawing attention from within.
Vivienne, a mixture of curiosity and excitement bubbling within her, followed closely behind. She could feel the weight of all that history pressing in on her, but there was something else—a tangible energy in the air that made her feel both small and significant at once. As they stepped into the Hall, the cool, incense-scented air seemed to welcome them, the vastness of the space swallowing up their footsteps.
Inside, the hall stretched endlessly, its high ceilings supported by columns that seemed to stretch to the very heavens, their surfaces etched with more detailed carvings—victories and sacrifices immortalised in stone. The floor beneath them was made of smooth, polished stone, a deep grey that reflected the dim light from the torches lining the walls.
At the far end of the hall stood a raised platform, its steps worn from centuries of use. Upon it sat figures of authority—elders of the Serkoth Clan, their expressions stern and unyielding, watching the pair as they approached. Their eyes held the wisdom of ages, and yet, there was something inscrutable about their gaze. Vivienne couldn’t help but wonder how many had come before her, seeking to prove themselves worthy in this very space.
In the centre of the room, atop a throne crafted from wood, bone, and silver, sat a woman who seemed larger than life itself. She towered over those around her, her presence almost overwhelming. Even Rava might have appeared small in comparison. The woman’s head was that of a wolf, her golden eyes gleaming with a penetrating intensity that felt as though they could see into the very depths of one’s soul. Her fur, a muted mix of grey and white, had lost its youthful lustre over the years, now matted and worn with age. Yet, the fur remained thick and imposing, like the remnants of a great storm. Gaps in the coat revealed countless scars, each one a silent testament to the many battles she had survived and the blood she had shed for her people.
Her posture was unyielding, like stone carved into the likeness of a warrior who had known the cost of survival and honour. There was no softness in her gaze, only the hard-won wisdom of someone who had seen empires rise and fall. This was not simply a leader, but a living embodiment of the Serkoth Clan’s fierce history.
Rava halted before the platform, her gaze flicking to Vivienne for a fleeting moment. There was a subtle shift in her stance, a stiffening of her shoulders, a sign of respect—or perhaps fear. She did not speak, but her posture alone spoke volumes. The gravity of this moment was not lost on Vivienne. She could feel the weight of it, the presence of this woman whose very being seemed to command reverence. Vivienne met Rava’s gaze with quiet determination, her own stance unyielding. She could not afford to falter now.
The silence stretched out, thick and expectant. Even the flickering flames in the sconces seemed to burn a little brighter as the room awaited the next move. Vivienne felt her breath steady, her pulse quickening with the sense that what came next would shape the path ahead. There was no turning back.
The woman on the throne tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed upon Vivienne as though she were weighing her very soul. Her eyes gleamed with an ancient wisdom, sharp and unwavering. When her voice came, it was deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder, filling the space around them.
"Welcome home, my daughter," the figure on the throne spoke, her tone both commanding and laden with decades of authority. "You were expected home two weeks ago. You are late."
Rava’s breath caught in her chest, but she steadied herself before replying. She gave a respectful nod, lowering her eyes just enough to show deference. “Yes, High Fang Korriva. My deepest apologies. I was captured.”
The High Fang’s golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she processed Rava’s words, her expression unreadable. She then tilted her head, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "Yet you stand before me now. Why?" Her voice carried a weight that pressed down on the room, as if the very walls were listening for an answer.
Rava hesitated for only a moment, then straightened, lifting her chin to meet her mother’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “Because I was saved. Not by my own doing, but by someone who owes me nothing.”
The High Fang’s eyes flicked to Vivienne, narrowing once more. A slight shift in her posture, as though something had caught her attention beneath the surface, but she said nothing for a long moment. Finally, she spoke, her voice heavy with suspicion and curiosity.
“Saved by whom?” The High Fang asked, her voice laced with intrigue, though the faintest trace of caution underscored her words, like a flicker of lightning in a calm sky.
Rava turned slightly, her gaze steady as she motioned toward Vivienne. “This is Vivienne. She has saved me more than once. Without her, I would not be here.”
With that, the High Fang’s attention shifted fully to Vivienne, her gaze like a weight settling on her, piercing and calculating. For a moment, Vivienne felt a strange stirring in the air—an almost tangible presence, like the pressure before a storm. The Aether around her seemed to shift and swirl, the intensity of it constricting her form, as though she was being drawn into the very heart of a storm.
The tempest and dawn Aether seemed to clash, wrapping around her like two opposing forces, pressing down with an intensity that would have left most trembling. If she had been capable of drawing a breath, she might have found it difficult to do so. If fear had been within her, she might have felt its cold grip tightening around her chest. But Vivienne felt none of those things.
Instead, she felt something else—something that stirred awe deep within her. The power of the High Fang was undeniable, rich and dense, like a force of nature made manifest. It was the heaviest Aether she had encountered in Nymoria, save for the Loam Titan she’d met during her first week in this strange land. But this—this was different. This was a force that commanded respect, a presence that could bend the world itself to its will.
Vivienne didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood tall, her smile a small but genuine curve of respect. The weight of Korriva’s Aether only heightened her awareness of the power before her, and she found herself impressed—more than she had expected to be. This was no ordinary being. The sheer depth of Korriva’s presence filled the room, almost suffocating in its intensity. But instead of retreating from it, Vivienne leaned in, drawn to it.
Slowly, she began drawing the Aether into herself, feeling its raw, storm-like force swirl around her, challenging her with every pulse. It was thick and unyielding, pressing against her consciousness, but she welcomed it. There was a distinct edge to the Aether here—temperamental, fiery—but also deeply grounded in the earth, like the bones of the mountain itself.
Vivienne’s form shimmered faintly as she allowed the Aether to seep into her being, absorbing it like a sponge drawn to water. Her presence in the room seemed to shift as her connection with it deepened, the air around her stirring, responding to her intent. She wasn't just standing under the pressure anymore—she was accepting it, drawing on the tempest, channelling it into herself.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Rava watched in silence, a flicker of unease crossing her face as she felt the tension between the two forces. Korriva’s gaze hardened, sensing the challenge rising within Vivienne.
"You dare take in my Aether?" Korriva’s voice rumbled, a low growl that resonated deep in the chamber. "You think you can wield it?"
Vivienne’s smile grew ever so slightly, her eyes gleaming darkly, like a star slowly igniting. She wasn’t just absorbing the Aether; she was moulding it, reshaping it to her will, a quiet confidence radiating from her. “Not wield it, High Fang. Eat it.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as though Vivienne had unveiled some hidden truth, some secret only those who had walked the edges of creation could understand. Korriva’s golden eyes, sharp and calculating, narrowed. She leaned forward slightly, the weight of her presence settling back into the room as she scrutinised Vivienne.
“You speak of things I do not think you fully understand, creature,” Korriva said, her voice measured but with a faint edge of curiosity lacing it. The storm of her Aether still swirled around Vivienne, testing her, pressing down, yet there was no malice in it—only a sense of deep intrigue. “To eat my Aether is to claim it. To take it within you is to take a part of me. Do you think you can survive such a thing?”
Rava stood rigid beside Vivienne, her brow beaded with sweat, panic flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her mother’s gaze was powerful enough to silence even the bravest of souls.
Vivienne, however, remained unfazed. Her smile only grew wider, the shadows in her eyes deepening as she tilted her head slightly, studying the High Fang with a mixture of amusement and respect. She was unbothered by the pressure, the storm of Aether swirling around her as though it were a mere breeze.
“No, High Fang,” Vivienne purred, her voice low and smooth, almost playful. “You are generously sending it my way, and I’m just having a little nibble.” She leaned forward slightly, her lips pulling into a grin that revealed the inky blackness of her tongue, which she pushed out, the tip of it tracing her lips in an almost teasing manner. “Just a taste. I promise, nothing too overwhelming.”
Korriva’s golden eyes flicked between Vivienne and her daughter, her expression unreadable. The air between them crackled with tension as she took in the strange, almost unnatural calm Vivienne exuded. The High Fang’s Aether shifted again, still pressing down but no longer suffocating. There was a shift, an unspoken recognition in the air—something clicked into place, though Vivienne wasn’t sure what it was just yet.
Korriva's lips quirked ever so slightly, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth, but it was hard to say whether it was amusement or something else. Her Aether, still dense and tempestuous, pulsed with a new intensity, but this time it felt like an invitation rather than a challenge.
“You are not like any creature I have met, Vivienne,” Korriva said, her tone a mix of admiration and curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, her massive frame towering, yet there was a softness in her voice. “But I have learned to trust actions more than words. And your actions speak volumes.”
Vivienne bowed deeply, a gesture of respect yet laced with her trademark confidence. “I’m glad they do.”
Korriva studied her for a moment longer, her golden eyes narrowing just slightly, though there was no malice in her gaze. She leaned back, her heavy furred body settling more comfortably against the throne, and her voice became lower, more measured. “So, what are your intentions going forward?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge, but Vivienne wasn’t deterred. She straightened, meeting Korriva’s gaze with a glimmer of something far darker, far more ambitious, than a mere promise of loyalty.
“My intentions?” Vivienne echoed, her smile shifting into something more thoughtful. “To survive, of course. To learn. To grow. But more than that…” She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with something deeper, something that felt almost ancient. “I intend to change things.”
Rava’s breath hitched slightly beside her, the weight of Vivienne’s words settling in. Korriva’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight tension in the way her Aether hummed, as if testing the air for hidden meaning.
Then, the stoic woman grinned widely, though still with regal composure. “I thought I recognized that mark, that signature on your soul. You’ve been touched by the divine, haven’t you?”
Vivienne offered a knowing smile, her gaze steady and appreciative. She found herself liking this woman. “Perhaps.”
Korriva stood taller, her presence shifting as she rose from her throne. She was an imposing figure, even more so when standing, allowing Vivienne a clearer view of her. The high fang was adorned in a mix of leathers and furs, the light armour hugging her lithe, yet muscular frame. Her build was top-heavy, her broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist, giving her a formidable, battle-ready appearance, though it was tempered by the wisdom in her eyes. Every movement seemed measured, like the calm before a storm.
Vivienne studied her silently, the aura of power emanating from Korriva unmistakable, but it wasn’t just strength she sensed. There was something more, something deep—an ancient, unyielding force. And beneath it, a flicker of something warmer, like the embers of a fire waiting to ignite.
“I hereby declare Vivienne a friend of the Serkoth Clan, and she shall be under our protection, so long as she honours our laws and traditions.”
Korriva's voice was firm, but there was a touch of warmth in her eyes, a rare softness that not many would see. Rava, who had been holding her breath, exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing in the relief of the moment. Vivienne, for her part, inclined her head slightly, a mix of gratitude and curiosity swirling behind her gaze.
"Thank you, High Fang," she said, her voice smooth, yet there was something deeper in her tone—respect, perhaps, or a recognition of the weight of this declaration.
Rava's lips curved into a small smile, relief washing over her. The tension in her body slowly ebbed away as she took a step closer to Vivienne, her earlier apprehension easing.
"I will stay by your side," Rava said quietly to Vivienne. "And now, it seems, you have the support of the Serkoth as well."
Vivienne gave her a sidelong glance, her eyes twinkling with a knowing gleam. "Naturally." She scoffed as if this was the easiest conclusion to reach.
Korriva let out a low chuckle, deep and resonant, like the distant roll of thunder before a storm breaks. "Indeed. It seems we shall have much to discuss."
“Perhaps! There are many things I am curious about,” Vivienne replied, her smirk as sharp as ever, but her tone carried a genuine eagerness.
Korriva’s piercing golden gaze shifted to her daughter. “You may rest for today, Rava. Tomorrow, you will be debriefed in full. Until then, take this time to recover.” Her expression softened ever so slightly, a rare glimpse of maternal concern breaking through her commanding presence. “And both of you are expected at the dinner table tonight. Do not be late.”
Rava inclined her head, the tension in her frame easing. “Understood, High Fang.”
Korriva’s eyes lingered on her daughter for a moment longer, a mix of pride and something unspoken flashing across her features. Then, with a slight gesture of dismissal, she turned her attention to the advisors gathered nearby, the weight of her authority shifting effortlessly to her next task.
Rava stepped back, motioning for Vivienne to follow her. As they exited the hall, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them, the tension of the encounter seemed to dissipate, leaving the two of them in relative quiet.
"Well," Vivienne said, stretching her arms as though shaking off the lingering weight of Korriva’s presence, "that went better than expected. She’s a formidable woman, but I like her. A refreshing mix of power and poise."
Rava shot her a sidelong glance, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.