The heavy doors of the citadel swung wide, and the company entered the dining hall, where a feast had been laid across long tables. Roasted meats, fresh bread, spiced vegetables, and flagons of wine awaited them. Handmaids stood ready with polished jugs, their heads bowed.

Seralyth lifted her hand toward the spread.

"Please, my lord, and your court, eat and drink. You are welcome here as honoured guests."

Rovan's dark eyes scanned the table, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head lightly.

"Generous of you, my queen, but I've not crossed half the sea for supper. I came for business." He plucked a goblet from the table all the same, holding it toward a waiting maid. "Wine, though, that I'll take."

The handmaid poured swiftly, and Rovan lifted the glass in a casual toast.

"As you wish," Seralyth replied, her tone gracious but firm.

She led them onward, leaving the untouched feast behind. The party passed through vaulted corridors until they reached the Dawn Hall, its high windows spilling light across a vast chamber. At its centre stood a great table of luminar wood, polished smooth, its grain faintly aglow as though alive with the blessing of Falrion.

The two courts took their seats, opposite sides of the radiant table. On one side, the Dawn Court, Seralyth at the head, with Caren, Lyra, Brenn, Taron, and Kael arrayed beside her. The Huntmaster sat rigid, his golden eyes fixed across the table like blades, his presence heavy in the chamber.

Opposite, the Saltblood Court settled in, Rovan lounging at the centre, flanked by Jax, Garr, and Sel, each carrying the sharp pride of predators who bowed to no one but their king.

The air hung taut with anticipation. Wine was poured, words awaited. The light of the luminar wood glimmered faintly between them, as if even the table itself held its breath.

Rovan leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the luminar wood as his eyes glittered with amusement.

"So, queen of the light," he began, voice smooth and mocking in equal measure, "why have you invited pirates into your home?"

Seralyth met his gaze evenly, her tone steady.

"I have invited you, King Rovan, and your court to discuss a trade alliance. Veyra and Tharos have been silent neighbours for too long."

Rovan chuckled, rolling the goblet in his hand.

"That we have. But tell me, why now? What's changed, hmm?"

"Times grow harsh," Seralyth said plainly. "I am certain there are things you would desire that we possess, and just as certain we would value what Tharos can provide."

Rovan tilted his head, the grin creeping back across his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glowing table.

"Not shy, are you, queen? Good. Then let's not dance around it. What is it you want, Seralyth?"

Before Seralyth could answer, Caren leaned forward, his rings glinting in the lamplight. Ever eager to seize the reins of diplomacy, his tone was smooth, his words deliberate.

"There are certain items Veyra desires, my king," Caren said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Supplies, materials, goods that only Tharos can provide. Nothing so dire, of course, merely matters of commerce. And in turn, we can offer trade most profitable to your coffers."

Rovan's eyes flicked to Caren, studying him with the casual sharpness of a shark circling prey. He swirled the wine in his goblet, lips curling into the ghost of a smirk.

"Ah," the pirate king said slowly. "So it's coin and wares you come crawling for. And here I thought it might be something interesting." He leaned back again, amused. "Tell me, silver-tongue, what profit do you think could tempt a man who already takes what he pleases?"

The room stilled at the edge of his words, the glow of the luminar table dancing between the two courts.

Seralyth's voice cut through Caren's silver words, calm but resolute.

"An alliance is more than a profit of coin, King Rovan. It is the foundation of trust. A relationship between two great regions. This trade agreement could be the beginning of something stronger than gold."

Rovan turned his head back toward her, the grin spreading across his face like a blade unsheathed.

"Am I speaking to the Mam or the pup?" he quipped, his voice mocking. His court sniggered at the jab, the sound harsh in the quiet hall.

Then his smile fell. His tone hardened.

"What are you not telling me, queeny? Why am I really here?" He rose from his seat in one fluid motion, his shadow spilling across the glowing table. In an instant, the Saltblood Court followed, standing straight, their hands never far from their blades.

Across from them, Kael and Taron stood as well. Kael's golden eyes narrowed like daggers, while Taron, grimacing, pushed himself up with the aid of his wooden crutch, unyielding despite the pain. Neither spoke, their silence heavy as iron.

But Seralyth did not rise. She sat still, composed, her face a mask of calm authority. Slowly, deliberately, she raised a hand toward her warriors.

"Sit," she commanded softly.

Kael and Taron obeyed, lowering themselves back into their seats, their gazes never leaving the pirates across the table.

The air in the Dawn Hall was a taut wire, waiting to snap.

"You're right," Seralyth said at last, her voice steady, her gaze fixed on Rovan. "You've arrived in good faith, and we have not been completely honest."

"My queen" Caren began, rising slightly in protest.

But Seralyth silenced him with a glance and pressed on.

"Food," she said simply. "We are in need of food. Our supply is not what it should be."

Rovan's grin returned as he lowered himself back into his seat, the weight of the moment shifting with him. The Saltblood Court followed, dropping into their chairs without a word.

"There it is," the pirate king said, satisfied. He turned to Jax, eyes glinting with humour. "You called it."

From within his breast pocket, he flicked a gold coin across the table. Jax snatched it mid-air, bit it, and slid it into his own pocket with a grin.

"Thank ya, captain," he said, as if it were the most natural exchange in the world.

The room relaxed a fraction, though the tension still lingered like a coiled rope between them.

The Alchemy Chamber of Vaelith stretched wide like a cavern carved from night itself, lit by braziers of pale green flame. The air was heavy with dust and acrid smoke. Every wall was crowded with grisly trophies: horns of basilisks, eyes of frost drakes, fangs of swamp hydras, and wings of carrion moths dried and strung like banners. Shelves sagged under the weight of bottled poisons, venom from ash scorpions, bile of shade-serpents, and dark blood bled from lurkers of the deep caves.

Zerik slithered to the central slab of obsidian. He wasted no time; the Shadow King's patience was thinner than smoke. He scattered powders of pulverized banshee bone, traced runes with dusted griffon claw, and cut open his own palm, letting black blood drip into the circle.

The air darkened. A shriek rose from nowhere, and the veil between worlds cracked open. Wraiths drifted in, their forms half-shadows, half-screams.

Zerik's forked tongue flicked.

"The Wyrms. Have they done wrong?"

One wraith drifted close, its face blurred like melted wax.

"The Wyrms... a curse... Thyra Veyth."

Another, twisted into the shape of a drowned queen, croaked out words through broken teeth.

"The Wyrms... a curse... Thyra the Veilborn."

Their voices tangled, hissing, echoing like chains dragged through stone. The chamber rattled with the weight of their truth.

Zerik's slitted eyes narrowed. His answer was confirmed. Betrayal.

He chuckled, low and venomous.

"Their fate is sealed."

In the depths of their lair, the Shade Wyrms huddled around their warped crystal orb, its surface flickering with images of Zerik's ritual. Smoke coiled within the glass, replaying his every move.

"He knowsss!" one voice hissed.

"Because of you," another spat, tone venomous.

"Me? You let rage guide the curse!"

"I fed the ssspell! Without me, it would have failed!"

"Without you, we'd still be sssafe!"

The voices tangled, snapping at one another, echoing through the cavern like a dozen serpents fighting in the dark. The Wyrms insulted themselves in turn, their single will at war with its fractured tongues.

"You are weak ssscale."

"You are blunt fang."

"You are dull eye."

"You are broken tongue."

"You are hissss with no bite."

"You are ssshadow with no depth!"

The orb pulsed once more, showing Zerik's narrowed eyes, his forked tongue flicking in cruel satisfaction.

"He will tell."

"Sssera will learn."

"And when she does... ssshe will carve our hide into piecesss."

"Ssshe will peel us. Strip usss."

"Ssshe will hang us by our tonguesss."

A silence fell, but only for a moment. Then the insults slithered back, harsher.

"Your temper broke usss."

"Your cowardice doomed usss."

"Your arrogance unmasked usss."

"Your lazinessss betrayed usss."

The Wyrms lashed themselves with fury, their abomination pet whining in the corner, stitched flanks quivering at the storm of voices. At last, for a single heartbeat, their snarls braided into one united hiss.

"We must flee. We must shed our ssskin. We must vanish before dawn. Hide where even ssshadow has no name. Hide where neither vampire, nor lich, nor even the Ssshadow King will ever see usss."

The crystal dimmed. The cavern sank into whisper and hiss. Their venom was now turned upon themselves, and their fear.

End of chapter five - part two.