Ebonheim didn't quite expect Calyxia to ask for help. "War?" she asked, her eyes widening as her voice rose an octave. "Isn't there a chance for a peaceful resolution?"

Calyxia's posture stiffened, and her lips pulled into a deep frown, the tip of her tail twitching in displeasure.

"One cannot make peace with monsters," she hissed, her voice a sibilant snarl. "The Kungwans have proven to be a persistent and unyielding threat. There is no other recourse than to eradicate them."

A war. The word hung heavily in the air. How was she supposed to get involved in a war? What could she even do to help? Not only that, but being involved would also put her village at risk, and she couldn't endanger the lives of her people like that.

Ebonheim shook her head. "I can't," she replied, her voice hesitant. "If they've been causing trouble for you, I understand you're upset and need to take care of them. But—"

Calyxia slithered closer, and lowered herself so that her face was level with Ebonheim's. "Do you not wish to protect your people?" she asked, her tone hard as steel. "If the Kungwan continue to grow, they will eventually threaten your village."

"They've left Ebonheim... my village, untouched so far. They're not interested in us," Ebonheim countered softly, her voice wavering ever so slightly as she tried to hold her ground. "The last time that they ventured close to the village was nearly two years ago."

Calyxia flicked her tongue against her fangs and tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "For now, yes," she said, her tone clipped and terse, "and that is a blessing. But one cannot live in the shadow of the mountain, forever assuming it will not erupt."

Ebonheim felt a shiver run through her at Calyxia's analogy, the logic in it chillingly clear. Yet, could she risk the lives she had pledged to protect on an 'if' and a 'when'?

Calyxia must have sensed her doubt, for her demeanor softened, and her voice grew quieter.

"You should consider your position, Ebonheim," she said, her tone surprisingly gentle. "I am not asking you to risk your people needlessly. If I did not think you would be in danger, I would not have called upon your aid." She lowered her head until her serpentine eyes were level with Ebonheim's once more. "What is a goddess without her people?"

Ebonheim opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat, her chest tightening at the gravity of Calyxia's words. She was right, as much as she didn't want to admit it. Even if the Kungwan hadn't paid the village any attention so far, there was always the possibility that they would, and despite having grown in power recently, Ebonheim may still not be strong enough to defend the village by herself.

She inclined her head, allowing the silence to stretch as she considered Calyxia's words. Her heart throbbed with a protective urgency; the safety of her village was her prime responsibility, and any threat to it, even an indirect one, required her attention.

But a war...she's read about them, and Bjorn even told tales of war from his younger days. War was brutal and horrific. So many would die, and even if Ebonheim fought alongside Calyxia, there was no guarantee that the village would come out unscathed.

"War...war is a terrible thing," Ebonheim said, her voice tremulous. She remembered the guards she had failed to save, their final breaths a silent accusation that still echoed in her dreams.

"But is not inaction worse, Ebonheim?" Calyxia's voice was a soft caress, a seductive whisper that held Ebonheim in its grip. She uncurled her massive form, the sinuous motion casting eerie shadows over the woodland glade. "The Kungwans show no mercy. They've killed the Seraphidae and put a blight upon this valley. They are a wildfire that would ravage all in their path. They have to be stopped. And to achieve that, I need your aid."

Calyxia extended her arms out to the sides, a wide and all-encompassing gesture. "Will you not help me, Ebonheim? Will you let...my people suffer while yours lives on, free of concern?"

Ebonheim averted her gaze and focused her attention on the ground at her feet. Her mind whirled with myriad thoughts and feelings. Calyxia's words, woven with threads of dread and urgency, settled heavily on her. The thought of her village razed, her people in the clutches of a merciless enemy, turned her blood to ice. But she was no seasoned warrior, no cunning leader. She was a guardian, a keeper of peace. Would her participation ignite the very catastrophe she wished to avoid?

"You may have been spared their onslaught, but for how long?" Calyxia continued. "Can you afford to remain aloof while your neighbors bleed?"

A silence descended upon them, the weight of the question pulling them both into its embrace. Ebonheim's hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she wrestled with the implications of Calyxia's words.

"My duty is to my villagers," Ebonheim finally murmured, her voice laden with the heaviness of responsibility. "My village hasn't been raided. The Kungwans do not seek conflict with us."

A knowing smile curled up the corners of Calyxia's lips.

"Not yet, perhaps," she retorted, her gaze piercing through Ebonheim's determined facade. She gracefully slithered forward, the strong undulations of her lower body showcasing the raw power she wielded. "Your duty extends beyond their immediate needs. You must safeguard their future. If the Kungwans go unchecked, who is to say your village won't fall into their destructive path?"

Ebonheim frowned, a faint heat rising to her cheeks at Calyxia's words, as if she was a child being admonished. "You're right," she said, her tone holding an edge of indignance, "but I won't just blindly jump into a war. Until the threat stands at our door, I can't, in good conscience, lead my people into battle."

"Dwell on my words, Ebonheim," Calyxia implored, her gaze never leaving Ebonheim's. "The Kungwan's ravenous march will not cease at the boundaries of my territory. This is a war not of my choosing, but it's a war nonetheless. I seek no glory. Only to bring peace to these lands. Our fates are intertwined. Whether we like it or not, this war will not spare you, nor your people, from its wrath. But, united, we have a greater chance of preventing the worst from occurring."

A shudder coursed through Ebonheim. Calyxia's words had stoked the flames of her protectiveness. It was a plea for solidarity, a call to arms against a common foe. But beneath that, Ebonheim sensed something else, as if Calyxia's intentions weren't purely motivated by selfless concern.

Was Calyxia's prediction mere conjecture, or based on information and insight? Could she believe Calyxia's words, and use them to justify the risks of bringing the war to her people? Or was Calyxia using this as a pretense to bait her into joining this war, thus giving her what she wanted all along?

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There was a subtle undertone of another reason hidden behind Calyxia's words. Ebonheim couldn't quite place a finger on it, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered to her, cautioning her to tread carefully.

Still...For the first time, Ebonheim found herself questioning the safety of her isolation. Would remaining neutral truly shield her village from the escalating conflict, or was it merely a comforting illusion, a balm for her fears? The weight of her responsibility bore heavily upon her. Each word that Calyxia spoke sowed seeds of disquiet in her heart, sowing doubts about the steadfast course she had so adamantly clung to. Yet, her resolve remained. She would not let her people be dragged into a conflict they had no stake in.

At least, not yet.

"I won't bring my people into the heat of battle, not if I can prevent it," Ebonheim shot back. "You said this war isn't of your choosing, but here you are, courting my aid to fight it."

A low hiss escaped from Calyxia's lips, her emerald eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and annoyance.

"Must I remind you, Ebonheim?" she said, her voice a harsh hiss. "This war will not remain confined to my borders. If you wish to safeguard your village, you must do more than wall yourself up and hope for the best. It's a folly that could cost you dearly. Should you stand idle now, you may find yourself forced to do battle alone later."

The silence that followed was thick, charged with an energy that hummed through the air between them. Calyxia's serpents stilled atop her head, their glittering eyes fixed upon Ebonheim.

For a brief moment, Ebonheim imagined she could almost see the thoughts swirling within Calyxia's mind, but they vanished, obscured by a veil of mystery, as quickly as she had glimpsed them.

"Peace is not achieved through isolation, Ebonheim," Calyxia pressed on, her words flowing like a mournful dirge. Her serpentine body coiled and uncoiled with a restless energy, mirroring the relentless pursuit of her argument. "The Eldergrove is a woven tapestry of interconnected lives. What befalls one thread affects us all."

"Is that so?" Ebonheim countered, her voice resolute. "Then why have you chosen to involve me now? Why didn't you call upon me when the Kungwans first invaded your lands? Have you not protected your own people all this time?"

Calyxia's tail gave a frustrated flick, as if Ebonheim's retort was an irritant she sought to swat away. "That's not the point. I tried to avoid conflict, but they refuse to leave us in peace. They've been relentless. With every moon, the Kungwan attacks increase. The Seraphidae will not survive this onslaught unless we strike back and eradicate them."

Calyxia bristled at the insinuation, the living crown of serpents atop her head hissing and writhing, their anger mirroring their queen's. "The Kungwans are a threat to us all," she spat out, emerald eyes flashing with indignation. "Your stubborn refusal to see that may be the downfall of your beloved village."

Ebonheim held her ground, her golden gaze meeting Calyxia's wrathful one. "And what of the aftermath, Calyxia?" she retorted, her words ringing through the glade. "Suppose we vanquish the Kungwans, what then? Will the Eldergrove not be bathed in blood? Will my people not be mourning their lost? Is this the peace you speak of?"

The tension in the glade was palpable, a silent battle of wills waged between the two leaders. The rustling leaves and the burble of the distant brook seemed amplified in the weighty silence that followed.

"Aye, there will be blood," Calyxia conceded, her voice softer, almost a whisper. "But it will be the blood of heroes, not victims. It will be the blood of those who fought to protect their land, their kin, and their peace. Is there not honor in that?"

"Honor?" Ebonheim echoed, her voice hollow. "What honor is there in needless bloodshed? What honor is there in turning our peaceful realm into a battlefield?"

"No battle is needless that defends our home," Calyxia argued, her tone firm. "Your reluctance is born of fear, Ebonheim. Fear of change, fear of responsibility, fear of loss. But fear is not a trait of leadership. It is a trait of followers."

Ebonheim stiffened at the veiled insult. "You're wrong," she hissed, her voice strained with emotion. "It's not fear that guides me. It is prudence. And you speak of leadership as if you know its burden. Have you shouldered the burden of a village? Have you had to lead them through dark times?"

Calyxia's response was a low, throaty laugh, her emerald eyes gleaming with mirth. "Oh, Ebonheim, you have much to learn," she said, her tone patronizing. "Leadership is not about making the easy choices. It's about making the right ones, even when they're the hardest."

The words cut deep, echoing painfully in Ebonheim's mind as she processed them. Was she truly making the right choices for her people? Or was she merely protecting them to satisfy her own selfish desire for safety?

"We are not so different, you and I," Calyxia continued, her voice taking on a surprisingly gentle tone. "We both have lands and people we...care for, lives we...would do anything to protect."

Ebonheim considered the comparison, a small part of her wanting to agree with Calyxia, but a stronger voice in her mind warned her against accepting the serpentine woman's words at face value. Something about Calyxia's motives was still off, something that Ebonheim couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Yet the difference lies in the means, Calyxia," Ebonheim replied, her voice a mere whisper. "I seek to protect mine by maintaining peace, you by preparing for war."

"And what happens when peace is not an option, Ebonheim?" Calyxia pressed, her gaze never wavering. "When the enemy is at your doorstep, will you still offer them peace?"

"Enough of your scare tactics, Calyxia," Ebonheim retorted, a fresh wave of defiance coursing through her. "Your words are aimed to manipulate, to incite fear. But I know my people. I know their strength, their resilience."

Calyxia tilted her head to the side and regarded Ebonheim with a bemused smirk. "Resilience, you say?" she murmured, her voice as cold as winter's breath. "Will your people's resilience protect them when the Kungwans raid your village, when they desecrate your homes, slaughter your kin? How much resilience will be left then, Ebonheim?"

The stark imagery sent a cold shiver down Ebonheim's spine. She pictured her tranquil village in flames, her people screaming, running, dying. Her hands clenched involuntarily, her knuckles turning white.

"Why... Why must it come to that?" she stammered, her voice trembling.

"Because it is the nature of the beast," Calyxia replied, her voice chillingly calm. "The Kungwans know only violence and conquest. They will not stop until they have ravaged all in their path."

"Yet..." Ebonheim hesitated, her mind spinning with fear and uncertainty. "Is there not a way to negotiate peace, to find a compromise?"

"Peace?" Calyxia echoed, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "You think they would negotiate peace? The Kungwan are not like us, Ebonheim. They do not value life, they do not understand compromise. To them, you are either food or a seedbed. Stop thinking of them as rational beings."

Ebonheim felt a lump in her throat, the gravity of Calyxia's words weighing heavily upon her. She looked at the serpentine lord, her gaze filled with conflict and uncertainty.

The threat of the Kungwans—no matter how distant—was seemingly real, and the peace she had so cherished was hanging by a thin thread. Would she sacrifice her principles for the greater good? Or would she stand her ground, risking the potential fall of her village?

Calyxia turned her head to the side and exhaled a long breath, as if releasing some tension from her body. "I did not mean to be so blunt, but you need to understand," she said, her voice growing softer, "There is no peace to be found in inaction."

"Help us, Ebonheim," Calyxia implored, her voice softer, almost pleading. "Help us protect our lands, our people. Help us ensure that the horrors I spoke of never become a reality."

Ebonheim swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath, the words sticking in her mouth as her mind churned with uncertainty. "I... I need time to think," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Calyxia nodded in understanding. "Take your time," she replied, her voice taking on a gentle, reassuring tone. "I will await your answer at my lair. But do not take too long. The longer we wait, the greater the danger becomes—and to put your heart at ease, I am not asking for your village to join this war directly. I am only asking for you."

With that, Calyxia rose and slithered away, her serpentine body coiling and uncoiling with a grace that belied the power that Ebonheim knew lay within.

Ebonheim watched as Calyxia left the glade, the echoes of her words still ringing in her mind. She sat down on the moss-covered stone and tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions warring inside her. On one hand, she didn't want to jeopardize the safety of her village by dragging them into a war that they had nothing to do with, but on the other hand, the thought of the Kungwans ravaging her peaceful home and hurting her people made her blood boil with indignation.

Should she remain firm in her decision to not involve the village in Calyxia's war, or should she swallow her pride and take a stand alongside the serpentine woman, putting her trust in her and hoping for the best? Maybe she should seek counsel from the elders to discuss the matter.