The Grand Hall was a storm of whispered discussions and suspicious glances. The great rulers of the realms, though few in number, had gathered to determine the fate of the newly discovered dwarven city—the ancient kingdom sunken beneath Ashmark’s lands, now a dangerous and mysterious dungeon. Only five rulers had been invited, each with their own reasons for coveting the dwarven magic and technology.

Kym, ruler of Ashmark, was the first to speak. His sharp voice echoed in the chamber as he addressed the room.

"As the lord of Ashmark, it is within my rights to control all access to the ruins. The dungeon is on my land, after all. But for the sake of cooperation, I am willing to grant passage to those who offer… proper compensation." Kym's eyes gleamed with greed.

Zirkan, ruler of Draugar Keep, shifted in his seat and spoke with a low growl. His son, Zirk, remained silent by his side, eyes focused on Aethyr.

"Kym, we all know what this is about. You're not interested in cooperation. You just want to line your pockets. I have no need for your gold or your petty favors. What we seek lies beneath the surface—living things, plants, creatures lost to time. The dwarves had an unparalleled mastery of life forms, herbs, and alchemical secrets. I want unrestricted access to those materials. They could revolutionize medicine and magic for my people."

Kym smirked but said nothing, his fingers drumming on the table.

Ravel, ruler of Vyrhall, leaned forward. His bodyguard stood close by, vigilant. Ravel had always been pragmatic, a merchant at heart, and his words reflected that.

"The dwarves were master craftsmen," Ravel began, his voice calm yet firm. "Their weapons, their tools—untouched by time. There are armories hidden beneath the dungeon, stockpiles of war machines and enchanted steel. I’m here to negotiate trade. What I seek is simple: access to their forges and weapons. In return, I can offer gold, steel, and ships. My realm’s prosperity depends on these trade agreements."

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Across the table, Vargath Broadhorn, ruler of Stormhaven, could barely contain his impatience. The massive minotaur chieftain radiated power, his eyes burning with ambition. The warlock Merodach stood behind him, his presence casting a dark shadow over the proceedings. Vargath spoke with a thunderous voice.

"Forget your plants and trade! The true power lies in the dwarven war engines—their magic-infused weapons of mass destruction. Merodach and I will unlock those secrets and use them to dominate the battlefield. You’re all thinking too small. With the dwarven technology, Stormhaven will control not only the seas but the entire continent. Surrender to reason and accept the inevitable. We shall lead the charge."

The room grew colder as Merodach stepped forward, his voice low and filled with malice.

"The dwarves were masters of war magic—spells that can turn armies to ash, collapse fortresses, and command the very elements. If Stormhaven gains this knowledge, there will be no more battles… only victories. For us."

There was a silence as Merodach’s words settled over the room. The rulers exchanged uneasy glances, all except one.

Eliziah, the former queen of Lumar, sat quietly, watching the proceedings with a calm and thoughtful demeanor. She had her own stake in the matter, though her reasons were far more personal. She looked across the table at Aethyr, her heart aching as she concealed the truth about their bond. Her silence was only broken when she saw the madness in Vargath and Merodach’s eyes.

"I came here not to seek power," she began softly but firmly. "I came to ensure that what lies beneath Ashmark does not fall into the wrong hands. We’ve seen what destruction such power can bring. The dwarves sealed their city for a reason, and it wasn’t just to protect their treasures—it was to protect the world from the consequences of their own creation. Vargath, Merodach, I will not stand by and let you unleash another war on this world."

The tension in the room rose. Vargath glared at her, his hand tightening into a fist. Merodach smirked darkly, clearly relishing the challenge.

Kym, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to capitalize on the discord. "If you wish to prevent bloodshed, Eliziah, you’ll need more than noble words. I control access to the dungeon, remember? You want to protect the dwarven legacy? Then perhaps you should consider negotiating with me."

The former queen’s eyes narrowed, her resolve strengthening.

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