The fire crackled softly between them.

Lady Auren stood still, hands folded gently before her, as if the ruins of reality hadn’t nearly collapsed hours ago.

Her presence was wrong in a subtle, bone-deep way.
She was perfectly composed. Too composed. Like she had rehearsed this moment across countless timelines.

The others woke slowly, one by one, drawn by the tension.

Cray muttered, "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Lysara’s lips tightened.
"I didn’t think they’d show themselves so quickly."

Calen just stared, eyes wide, pale from exhaustion.

Elian kept his blade steady.

"You’re Silent Court," he said flatly.

Lady Auren smiled again — polite, warm, completely unnerving.
"I am of them. A Speaker only. The Court itself remains... reserved."

"Why are you here?" Lysara demanded.

Auren tilted her head slightly, like a teacher addressing a difficult student.

"Because you’ve done what so many failed to do. You closed the First Fracture. Stabilized the flow. Preserved continuity. That is... valuable."

Elian narrowed his eyes.

"And dangerous. For you."

Her smile never faltered.

"Not at all. You misunderstand us, Warden."

She stepped closer, just enough for Elian to feel the strange stillness radiating from her.

"The Hollow sought to devour. The Root sought to free what should remain bound. But we — the Court — desire equilibrium. Stability. Growth without collapse."

Auren’s eyes gleamed as she continued, her voice like silk sliding across glass.

"The world has suffered greatly from unmanaged wounds. Your victory, however… has preserved the weave. You have proven yourselves capable."

Calen found his voice at last.

"Capable of what?"

Auren’s gaze flicked to him, gentle and predatory.

"Of partnership."

The word hit like a dagger.

Cray exhaled sharply.
"Oh no. No, no, no."

Lysara was already shaking her head.
"You want us to work for you."

"Not work," Auren corrected softly.
"Stewardship. The Court does not rule openly. We guide. We shape. We ensure the wounds stay closed — and that the world evolves along safe, predictable lines."

She looked directly at Elian now.

"You would become… Custodians. With our backing."

Elian's grip on the blade tightened.
"You mean your puppets."

Auren gave the faintest shrug.

"Names are unimportant. Influence, however — is everything."

The wind shifted, cold and dry.

The others looked to Elian — waiting. But this was his moment.

He knew the offer for what it was:
Not peace.
Not victory.

Control disguised as cooperation.
A velvet leash.

"Let me ask you one question," Elian said slowly.

Auren’s head inclined, signaling permission.

"If we refuse?"

For the first time, her smile thinned slightly.

"Refusal is… unfortunate. It would mean others — less stable — would need to act. Your enemies are not gone, Warden. The Root is already regathering. Other Fractures still hum beneath forgotten lands."

She took one step closer.
Her voice dropped, becoming almost intimate.

"You need us. Alone, you will fail. With us, you will thrive."

The temptation hung thick in the air.
Power. Safety. Resources beyond imagining.

But Elian felt it — the same sickness in his gut that had warned him of Malrek, of the Hollow, of every trap dressed in noble words.

The Court would not take their world.

They would gently hold it... until it forgot how to stand.

"No," Elian said quietly.

The word struck like iron.

Auren’s eyes hardened — only for a moment.

"Very well," she whispered.

Suddenly, the night deepened unnaturally.

Shadows gathered behind her, forming the faint silhouettes of other figures — tall, thin, cloaked — watching from the edges of perception.

The Silent Court.

Just glimpses.

Just enough to remind them: We are always here.

Auren’s smile returned, colder now.

"The offer will remain open... for a time. But know this, Warden—"

Her voice softened to a hiss.

"Even unbroken worlds still bleed."

With that, she simply vanished — as though she had never been there at all.

The night returned to normal.
The stars no longer shifted.
The air stilled.

Only the fire crackled — now feeling very small.

Cray finally let out a breath.

"Well. That’s going to haunt my dreams."

Lysara's jaw was tight, but steady.

"They won't stop, Elian."

"I know," Elian said.

He stared into the flames.

"And neither will we."