When one is surrounded by an ancient elemental mountain, charon chiseled to accommodate the number of delegates that evening, Malrow consoled himself from screaming. Clearly, the glorious Terras Tron had not permitted the picking of his own intestines. Many whispers of awe were breathed when the gleaming spires of Skalah City were dreamt by its architects. Now opaque from the planned scribbles, the capital city of Cheron was the embodiment of charon. The royal blue was everywhere. From tapestries, to clothing, and to the deep heart of the elemental mountain. But the pain built by these people bore into the Fae Folk was like a winter bite. An echo to the relative blood that ran through Malrow’s veins.

Histories of the Chonerin household can be traced back to the very first years when Enthah made the realm. Malrow had reviewed such lore back in the days he was an apprentice to the Chrav kingdom himself. As the Summit went on, an Elder named Franden Suldhen from the Lahuku Man Bi Caste was lamenting on his people’s experiences of the Tarmorein zealots. At the same time, Malrow fought the urge to walkout. The circular hall was making him nauseous.

In the first light, Entherah was made out of the sea, to a wide elapsing continent, until to be walked in the days of the stars. Enthah had first made the elementals. Of the waters, Serous. Of the earth, Terras. And of the sky, Celestials. Oria and Torion danced from morning to night, their children twinkling in a never-ending song in the sky. Lake Chairon separated the Chrav kingdoms into four, Solven in the east, Memehiko to the south, Vesta to the west, and Cheron to the north. Some had said Chustern was the true heart of Entherah. As the very central region of the realm, there was no denying that it was the perfect place to hold the Summit. But the mountainous Tron and his sister Sewi separated the region from the rest of Hailaga. A vast sea from Cander. Broken coastal isles from Baya. Rocky and stormy cliffs from Plaks. A scorching desert from Thrindiyo. Thick forests and vast plains from Fibi Enderi. And a fractured and cursed land from Krugan.

The Tarmorein was an easy yet heavy topic. And the stories that had plagued Baya were like shards of a mirror, reflecting the mistakes the Dahiries Empire foregone long ago. Malrow clenched and felt blood trickling down on his palm. Not just because of the horror Tron had to go through to become a dwelling and trade to the Chonerin. But by the same accounts Selvehin and his brothers had experienced. Rogue mages in cloaks, preaching and raiding Jaskovie siblings scattered in the deserts. The Amir had no humor in his stride as he weaved in the tale. Malrow had not seen such attacks on Endaya, however from his northwestern neighbor…

Juredah Tama was young but she wielded vigor as she avoided talks about their civil war. “Rumors of tainted fae, whisking away people in their sleep has troubled Clan Krumbar,” the girl started in Etharini, her short-cropped hair taking the Chrav Lords’ muttering and discontent. “But without word from Clan Nehawki, such rumors of faharians from Krugan reaching our borders is still not clear. Our crops however, have smaller yields from the last harvest season.”

Malrow released his palm and felt allied with the murmur of the room. He had remained quiet unless asked to. Unlike the representatives from the other regions, Acolyte or noble, his rank was the lowest. So, when he caught the glance of Imuto, Malrow shivered from the Acolyte’s knowing eyes. But the representative from Plaks had no such woes. Gladly a small relief before their host, King Arleous waved him a hand and the Lieutenant had to deliver his own report. 

“Krugan refugees had called for aid in their attempts to reclaim the cursed land,” his voice reverberated without a shudder as he regained the entire Summit’s ears. Undaunted from their half-attempts of concern, Malrow soldiered on, “The Senate had not granted the request. But attacks like those of Krumbar, both Fae Folk and Human, had gone missing, leaving traces of scuffle and blood.”

“And are you sure these are not just criminals from your liberal ways who have learned to kidnap for ransom?” said a Solven representative.  

Calm laughs followed from the other Chrav Lords, except of course from King Arleous. Malrow would not forgo a chance to pommel the bastards’ faces had he no reputation to consider.

“Has Acolyte Greysia neglected her tasks?" The same representative went on. “Had she simply read their minds—”

“And who are you to detail the orders of an Acolyte?” Imuto barked. Her aged yet brandished honey eyes narrowed on the now humbled Solven lord. When the rest of his compatriots simmered down, Imuto acknowledged Malrow to, “Continue.”

Swallowing his throat, Malrow went on, “Investigations have yet to cease but sightings of faharians from our scouts in the Krugan borders were evident. A possible wave of these creatures in the future are uncertain. Nevertheless, not to be ignored.”

A cold silence drifted in the forecast of the blue hall. The mage light on the chandeliers were wafting like flames. The gargantuan Thravadan of gold, now deeply shadowed by the promise of doom. Fortunately, they had someone to assure them of what is to come.

All eyes went to Imuto. Her raised head, a gravity to the decision the leaders of that day will soon convene. Imuto had said true when no one was to dictate the Acolytes and chain their divine gifts to upstage politics. Not soon, an entire region would find Enthah’s wrath knocking on their doors to destroy them all.

And so, all of them waited for Imuto’s confirmation. When Malrow saw the gleam on the Acolyte’s eyes as she searched a glimpse of the future, he promised himself to defy everything just to pursue the safety of Fibi Enderi from whatever fate they will face.

Imuto stirred from her dream state and addressed the worried faces of the Summit. “Another Faharian War is not far behind.”