<h4>Chapter 229: Council Meeting with the Elders (II)</h4>


    <strong><i>Draven.</i></strong>


    A beat of silence followed myst words—heavy and taut—before it shattered.


    "I heard that Brackham has been conducting experiments with our kind for several months..."


    The voice sliced through the stillness like a de.


    Instantly, I met gazes with Reginald Fellowes as the room erupted.


    Chairs scraped against the stone floor. Voices climbed and shed in a storm of disbelief.


    Elder Alphonse pounded the table with a gnarled fist, his silver hair shaking with fury. "What madness is this?"


    "Experiments?! On our kind?"


    "Did the humans dare—?"


    My gaze narrowed, not at the chaos, but at Reginald himself.


    He remained seated, eyes locked onto mine—calm, pointed, calcting. I studied him silently, ignoring the mour around us. My father sat straighter next to Alderic, clearly waiting to see how I’d respond. And I understood now.


    This wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Reginald wanted a reaction.


    "Why didn’t you care to inform us all this while?" Reginald demanded over the roar of voices. "Or do you think we are not important because you don’t regard us?"


    The uproar intensified. A chorus of usations and anger now turned toward me.


    "Why would you keep something like this secret?"


    "You owe the Council transparency!"


    "Are we not allies in this war?"


    Still, I said nothing. I let them scream. Let them throw their fits and pound their fists.


    Because my mind was already moving behind the scenes, stitching pieces together.


    Reginald hadn’t gotten that information from thin air. He had never set foot on Duskmoor’snd to catch whispers. The only conclusion left—


    Wanda.


    My jaw flexed. Disappointment tightened across my shoulders like a yoke. She’d broken protocol. Defied a direct boundary I’did in stone. And for what?


    To curry favour with her father? To gain leverage in a conversation I never intended to involve her in?


    She couldn’t be trusted with anything sensitive again.


    Some of the elders were already calling for blood. I heard one of them growl something about raising a battalion. Another demanded to invade Duskmoor and bring Brackham’s head.


    The frenzy was blinding, but I’d heard enough. And my presence alone was heavy enough to press silence into the room.


    "You’ve heard the bodies are real. And yes, the experiments are real," I said. "I confirm it. And I also confirm the humans have no idea what they are truly ying with."


    A tense hush lingered.


    "But I will not let this council rush into a war simply because your emotions are louder than your discipline."


    That drew a few stiffened postures. I saw Elder Marin bristle, but she bit her tongue.


    "War wille," I said. "But it muste with strategy. If we strike too soon, we lose our edge. We lose our story. And make no mistake—history will write the victors either as savages or saviours."


    Murmurs again, but softer now. Controlled.


    "Right now," I continued, "our enemies work from the shadows. We need to find theb. Get evidence. Names. Documentation. Otherwise, we will be seen as the aggressors in the eyes of the next generation. Or worse—the world."


    "That’s if we survive long enough," Reginald muttered, but I heard the fear beneath his barbs.


    I met his gaze. "That’s why I’ve already lifted all restraints for our kind in Duskmoor. From now on, any werewolf is free to retaliate against aggression. No more submissions. No more silence. I told Brackham myself—if they raise a hand, they should expect to lose it."


    A few of the elders nodded, others murmured their assent.


    Then my father stood.


    "The days of our people beingb rats are over," he dered. "We will not be hunted in secret. We will not be dissected in cages. Let the humans feel fear for once."


    Jeffery offered a short nod beside me, arms crossed. "The war isn’t just against humans now," he added. "We’ve confirmed the vampires are returning. And we have no idea how many they are or where they’re hiding."


    It was then that Alderic, who had remained surprisingly silent during the ruckus, finally rose from his ce at the head of the table.


    His voice was deep, calm, and filled with that unshakable authority only centuries of leadership could lend.


    "I understand your anger," he said. "I feel it too. But listen to what Draven has said."


    The room wentpletely still.


    "We must finish the Great Wall. That remains our first line of defense. And now, with the bloodsuckers returning, we are not just facing men, but monsters. We must bid our time,plete our preparations, and strike with precision—not with blind rage."


    His tone brooked no argument.


    "And when that dayes," Alderic continued, his eyes sweeping across every elder seated before him, "there will be no retreat. No prisoners. The age of tolerance is ending. But let it end on our terms."


    Silence followed briefly. Then, slowly, one by one, the elders began to nod. Even Reginald, though begrudgingly.


    King Alderic gave a slight nod, a silent signal for me to take the floor once more.


    I straightened, keeping my voice even.


    "Now that we’ve established our position," I began, "what matters most is momentum. We can’t afford hesitation—not in finishing the Great Wall, and not in gathering the evidence we need to bury Brackham."


    One of the elders—Drelwin, the oldest among them—let out a low grunt. "The runes won’t hold if we’re relying solely on our own mages. The enchantments on the eastern and northern barriers were carved by Fae hands. And we’ve lost them."


    Another elder, Lorin, leaned forward. "Most of the Faes have been in hiding for over twenty years now. You all know why."


    "Because we drove them away," snapped Elder Korran from the southern province. "Let’s not dress it up. The Faes lived among us. Thrived even. But they were starting to overshadow us—our court, our councils, our warriors. Some of us couldn’t stomach it."


    A scoff echoed from across the chamber. "Great. We needed them then, and now we need them more."


    "Do you think they wille back?" Elder Talwen asked. "After we severed ties? After what we did to them? We dered war on them, remember?"


    Regret hung heavy in the air for a moment. No one wanted to admit it, but the truth was clear.


    They had burned a bridge they now needed to cross.


    I waited patiently as they bickered and spected, measuring each word like weights on a scale. They were stuck in the past—reying choices already made, alliances already broken.


    For me, the Fae were a secondary matter. If they could be convinced to return, fine. If not, I wasn’t going to stake our entire defense on wishful diplomacy.


    "Weplete the wall regardless," I finally said. My voice cut through their murmurs like a de. "Fae magic or not. No more dys. No more excuses."


    My father cleared his throat, leaning forward.