Kürdiala, Council Chamber – Evening, Year 7002 A.A.
The council chamber of Kürdiala sat beneath a dome of violet crystal, its walls etched with breathing runes that shifted faintly with every change in emotion, light, and will. They pulsed in response to the mood like veins of mana woven through stone.
At the center stood a circular table of pure Mana Crystal—its surface smooth as still water, its depth unknowable. Reflections swam across its glassy top: the faces of the Narn Lords, strained and solemn.
Darius, arms folded, his golden milk fur dulled by torchlight.
Kon, claws tapping silently on the table's edge, his single eye narrow, ever-judging.
Trevor, tail flicking, leaning back in his chair but less relaxed than usual.
Jeth, slouched with a smirk under his frayed hat, rat whiskers twitching.
Kopa, antlers catching the dim violet glow, ears twitching in unease.
Johan Fare, eyes sharp, posture stiff, tail flicking in controlled bursts.
The atmosphere buzzed with tension. Not just from the fall of ArchenLand—but from the weight of purpose unspent, of wrath given no battlefield.
Johan's voice broke the silence.
"We've been here long enough. Living like refugees while our people suffer. I say it's time we act. Time to reclaim what's ours."
The table reflected the fury in his eyes, casting light across his gray fur like a silver flame.
Kon's claws clicked against crystal.
"And you think King Azubuike's just gonna give us an army? Send Kürdiala's best to die in a war that ain't his?"
Johan's tail stiffened. "So what, we sit here? Wait while Carlon enslaves our kin?"
"We don't make demands from a host who gave us shelter," Darius said evenly, though his shoulders tensed under his golden fur. "We lost everything. That doesn't give us the right to burn bridges."
"Unreasonable?" Johan snapped, nostrils flaring. "With all respect, Lord Darius, that's exactly what the Shadow would want—timid Lords afraid to act."
The word "timid" hit harder than steel.
Kon's chair scraped across the floor as he rose, single eye flashing.
"You callin' me a coward, Fare?"
The air sharpened.
Johan didn't flinch. "I'm callin' it like I see it."
In an instant, Kon moved. The tiger Tracient's speed cracked the air—his face now inches from Johan's, fangs bared, a low growl vibrating through the crystal.
Kopa stood abruptly. Trevor winced.
"Enough!" Trevor barked, stepping between them, staff raised. "We don't have to tear each other apart before we even see a battlefield!"
"Sit down, Kaplan," Jeth muttered, though not cruelly. "Ain't worth spillin' blood here."
"Can't we cool off and reason together?" Kopa said, voice breaking slightly. "We're not enemies."
Kon's eye narrowed, but he didn't strike. His tail lashed behind him as he turned away. "No," he growled. "I want him to say it again. I want him to mean it."
The silence held like the air before lightning.
Then—
"Enough."
The voice was not loud.
But it stopped the world.
A Presence Like No Other
The temperature dropped instantly. The crystal beneath their feet dimmed. The air itself bent inward.
A pressure—not physical, but primal—descended on the chamber. It was like gravity had been rewritten. Like the walls remembered death. Runes along the walls flickered erratically, pulsing with confused, fearful light.
Even breath became difficult.
Kopa's hooves trembled against the floor. That same fear he'd felt once in ArchenLand, when rescuing Adam from that void of silence and pain—Kurtcan's power—returned. But this was different. It was deeper.
Darius instinctively placed a hand on his chest. Not for defense—but to still his heart. So our suspicions were right. It's not just his aura. It's the soul inside him…
Trevor's tail stiffened. Sweat dotted his temples. His hand slid to his staff on instinct, though some part of him knew it would do nothing. This pressure… It's not Adam alone. This is something beyond him.
Jeth's smirk twitched, faltering for once.
And then the door creaked.
Adam Kurt stepped inside.
He was blue-furred still. But nothing else was the same.
The crystalline blue of his eyes was radiant now, almost painful to meet. Golden flecks orbited within them like stars in eclipse. His pupils, once soft, had deepened to an ancient blue. He walked as though space moved aside to make room. The air shimmered around him—not with heat, but distortion, like the rules of reality bent near him.
His presence didn't shout. It pressed.
The runes dimmed in reverence.
Kon backed up without realizing it. Johan's fire guttered into silence. Kopa's hooves didn't dare move. Trevor's staff remained untouched. Darius's gaze dropped, fists tightening. Jeth removed his hat, lowering it slightly.
Toran entered behind him, black-and-white fur a ripple of twilight and calm.
"Pardon our tardiness," he said. "Had to let the Eye adjust."
He moved to stand behind Adam. He didn't need to explain what they had done. The room knew.
Adam said nothing. He sat at the table, hands clasped, expression unreadable. But the air trembled softly around him. As if the chamber itself waited for his words.
Toran's voice filled the stillness. "I'm aware of what you want," he began, tone low but even. "But you are not ready."
Silence.
"Even united, you're not prepared to face the forces now guarding ArchenLand. The one guarding its throne… is Unranked."
Jeth blinked. "Beg pardon?"
Trevor raised a hand. "What does that even mean?"
Toran's violet gaze flicked toward them. "It means they exist beyond the Law of Ranking. Beyond Hazël, Özel, or even the Forgotten Orders. They are singularities. They are… a mass of their own will."
Darius closed his eyes. "The hooded one."
Toran nodded. "Yes. You've seen him."
Johan spoke again, voice shaking. "So what then? Abandon the land we swore to protect?"
"No," Toran said gently. "You wait. You heal. You train. And when the time is right—you strike."
"Waitin' ain't a strategy," Jeth muttered. "It's surrender."
"Not if you act while you wait," Toran replied, a smile forming. "Carlon took many refugees from Narn. They're scattered across its border towns—enslaved, cast out. If you must move, do it there. Strike where the shadow isn't lookin'."
Trevor frowned. "You want us to become criminals."
"I want you to become ghosts," Toran said. "Blades in silence. Wolves in the night."
Darius rubbed his temples. "Should we inform Lord Dirac?"
Toran shook his head. "Dirac's throne is fragile. The Seven Seas are in flux. The last thing he needs is our weight added to his crown."
Jeth leaned forward, rat eyes glinting. "So we spin the web and wait for the fly."
"Yes," Toran said. "Be patient. The spider always waits. The lion waits. The wolf waits. You are not weak for waitin'. You are only weak if you forget your cause."
Adam's hand moved, slowly, to the table's surface. His fingers pulsed once—mana flaring—and the crystal hummed in response.
"I haven't forgotten," he said quietly.
Everyone turned toward him.
His blue fur shimmered faintly. The golden flecks in his eyes flared.
"When the moment comes… I'll make them all remember."
The council room returned to stillness.
But it was a different silence now.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Focus.
Toran nodded.
"Then let the Watch begin."