Vaelorian Thryss carried his age with austere refinement rather than frailty. His long, straight grey hair fell past his shoulders till his waist, well-kept despite the centuries behind him. Though he was nearly a millennium old, the fine lines on his face only aged him to appear like a man in his fifties, his features still sharp and commanding.

His pale green eyes were the most striking—cold, piercing, and unyielding. They did not simply look at others, but seemed to assess and judge them in a single glance.

There was a constant severity to his expression, a quiet hardness that rarely softened. He did not need to raise his voice to command attention; his presence alone carried the weight of authority

The chamber doors opened without a sound.

Vaelorian stood by the tall arched window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over Elvenland. The vast canopy shimmered under Yggdrasil’s soft glow, bathing the land in a quiet, almost sacred stillness. It was a sight meant to calm the mind, to remind one of balance and continuity.

It did neither for him.

A hurried set of footsteps broke the silence behind him.

"My Lord Vaelorian-"

"Compose yourself," he said, his voice calm but firm, though he did not turn.

The servant faltered mid-step before straightening, forcing his breath to steady. "There has been... another incident."

Vaelorian’s gaze remained fixed outside. "Speak."

"A patrol from the western grove returned moments ago. They discovered four bodies."

At that, Vaelorian turned.

"Whose?"

"Pure Mana Elves, my lord."

The answer settled heavily in the room. Vaelorian stepped forward, the faint green light catching the sharp lines of his face.

"Was it them again?"

The servant hesitated, his throat tightening before he spoke. "Yes, my lord. The patrol believes it was the work of the Dark Elves. Their bodies had already begun to rot... unnaturally fast. The ground around them was scorched. It was unmistakably dead mana."

Vaelorian studied him for a moment, then said quietly, "This is the third incident in the past two months."

The servant lowered his head further. "Yes, my lord."

For a brief moment, Vaelorian said nothing, but the stillness around him seemed to grow heavier, more restrained.

Another set of footsteps approached, measured and controlled this time. A guard stopped at the entrance and bowed.

"My lord, His Majesty has summoned the council. All elders are to gather immediately."

Vaelorian let out a slow breath, his expression hardening.

"So, the King calls for counsel now," he said, more to himself than to anyone present.

He turned and walked past the guard without waiting for a response.

The palace corridors seemed quieter than usual, though he knew that was not truly the case. It was simply that something had shifted. Servants moved aside quickly as he passed, their heads lowered. Guards stood straighter, their expressions more alert. News had already begun to spread, even if no one dared speak of it openly.

Four dead.

Killed by dead mana.

There was no ambiguity in that.

Vaelorian’s thoughts settled into a familiar, unyielding clarity as he walked. For months, tensions had been rising, yet restraint had been the chosen path. Restraint had allowed the enemy to strike first, to retreat, and to strike again. It had given them time to grow bolder, more daring. And now, even their King had been brought to the brink of death.

He had said nothing then.

He had waited.

But waiting had not prevented this.

By the time he reached the great council doors, whatever patience he had maintained was gone. The guards stationed there barely had time to announce him before he pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The doors opened with a heavy echo that carried across the chamber.

The council had already gathered.

A circular hall stretched beneath a high domed ceiling, its walls carved from pale stone veined with faint streams of mana that pulsed softly like a living heartbeat. Tall pillars rose along the perimeter, each entwined with thin roots that descended from above, faintly glowing fragments of Yggdrasil’s presence even within the palace.

At the far end, upon a raised platform, stood the central seat.

Aelfric was already there.

Clad in flowing robes rather than armor, he stood beside the council table rather than sitting upon the throne-like chair behind it. To any untrained eye, he appeared composed, but there was a stillness about him that felt too deliberate, as though every movement had been carefully measured.

The Pure Mana Elves believed that their King was still suffering the the blow of the Dark Elf but only a handful in the room knew the truth that he had already recovered.

The news of him recovering was intentionally kept a secret and Vaelorian didn’t know why, after he had risen from his near death state, he had been acting strangely and he carried with him a strange brooch which emanated the kind of mana that he had sensed a millenium ago.

Vaelorian’s gaze lingered on him for a brief moment before he stepped forward into the chamber.

Conversations died almost instantly.

Several elders straightened. Others turned fully toward him. The shift in attention was subtle, but unmistakable.

"You have heard, I presume," Vaelorian said, his voice calm yet carrying across the room with ease.

No greeting. No courtesy.

Aelfric met his gaze. "We have received reports."

"Reports," Vaelorian repeated, his expression hardening slightly. "Another four of our own found rotting in the forest, their mana desecrated, and we call it a report."

A murmur stirred among the gathered elders.

One of them, an older woman, Elieria with calm, steady eyes, spoke carefully. "The situation is still being assessed. We do not yet-"

"We know enough," Vaelorian interrupted, his tone sharpening just enough to cut through the room. "Dead mana leaves a signature. It is not something that can be mistaken and it’s not like this is the first time it has happened."

Silence followed.

Another elder Elandor, seated closer to the center, leaned forward. "And what would you suggest, Vaelorian? That we declare war on them?"

Vaelorian’s gaze shifted to him, unwavering. "I suggest we stop pretending this is anything less than what it is."

The air grew tense.

Aelfric finally spoke, his voice measured. "And what is it, in your view?"

Vaelorian did not hesitate.

"An escalation that has been coming for months," he said. "One we chose to ignore in the name of restraint."

A few of the elders exchanged uneasy glances.

"We were attacked," Vaelorian continued, his voice steady but firm. "Our King was struck down by a mere young runt. Our people have been hunted in the shadows, villages are being burned and we are just letting them do whatever they want." His gaze swept across the room. "If this is not a declaration, then what is?"

Elandor spoke again, more firmly this time. "Or it is precisely what it appears to be-provocation. Something meant to force us into a response without understanding the full picture."

Vaelorian’s lips thinned. "And how long do you propose we wait to understand it? Until the people start picking up weapons themselves?"

"That’s already happening," Caldris, another elder spoke up.

A faint ripple of agreement passed through part of the council.

Aelfric remained silent for a moment, his fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table. His expression was composed, but his eyes had sharpened.

"We will not act blindly," he said at last.

Vaelorian’s gaze snapped back to him.

"Blindly?" he repeated. "With all that’s been happening, we cannot just sit back and take their insolence. It makes us look weak and cowards, Your Majesty."

"And acting without certainty is recklessness," Aelfric replied, his tone still controlled.

The two held each other’s gaze.

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of it.

One of the younger elders spoke hesitantly, attempting to ease the tension. "Perhaps... a measured response could be considered. Increased patrols. Securing the borders. We do not necessarily need to-"

"Containment has already failed," Vaelorian said. "That is why we are here. And pardon my crude words but it is something that even Erisgrirlum can see that’s why his men are already sitting on the borders in case something happens."

"He is there to stop the war in case it happens, Vaelorian." Elandor corrected.

Caldris, who appeared more agitated, spoke up. "Vaelrion is not wrong though. If the Dark Elves are bold enough to act so openly, then they are no longer afraid of consequence."

"And what of Yggdrasil?" Elieria countered. "A war this close to the Holy Tree would-"

"Then we ensure it does not reach that point," Vaelorian said sharply. "A controlled strike. Precise. Decisive. Enough to remind them of the balance they have forgotten."

Aelfric’s expression did not change, but something in his gaze shifted- something quieter, more conflicted. Vaelrion noticed as his fist tightened around that brooch that emanated the mana.

"Or," he said slowly, "we consider the possibility that this is exactly what someone wants."

The words settled into the room like a weight.

Vaelorian frowned slightly. "Someone?"

"A third force," Aelfric said. "Something that benefits from both sides escalating."

A few elders looked at each other, uncertain.

Vaelorian’s voice cooled. "With respect, Your Majesty, we are not dealing with shadows and theories. We are dealing with bodies."

Aelfric sighed, he seemed to be contemplating on something before he looked at the Elders as if he had made his decision.

"I have something to confess." Aelfric spoke, he had been keeping this a secret since he didn’t know how these all would react after knowing but since it wasn’t helping, he had to let them know the truth.

The Elders fell silent and looked at him, Aelfric turned to them with a grim face before he plucked out a torn piece of paper from his pocket and placed it down on the table.

Elieria who sat closest picked it up and instantly her blood ran cold.

"Your Majesty... This..." She spoke with her face going visibly pale.

The kerchief was passed through the other Elders and Aelfric’s aide Lythien who had been in on it remained silent standing behind Aelfric.

The kerchief finally landed in Vaelorian’s hand and he took was stunned to see it.

"Wh-What is this?" He gasped.

"Around six days ago, an Elf came to me and gave it to me." Aelfric said.

"Who?" Vaelrion asked instantly.

Aelfric sighed and placed the brooch that he was clutching in his hand on the table before him.

"It wasn’t an elf who belonged here," Aelfric said, "He was the servant of a Dragon."

The word sent gasps across the hall. This was even more shocking than what Vaelorian was expecting.

"A Dragon?" Caldris blurted out.

"Yes," Aelfric said, "It was thanks to that Dragon that I recovered."

"B-But how... And we would have known if there was an intruder." Elandor spoke.

Aelfric pursed his lips before he started explaining what the Elf- Rheanor had told him. The Elders listened in stunned silence with their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief and skepticism.

"This is the device that was given to me by that same Elf. He said if there was any trouble, I must pour my mana into this device and call for help."

Vaelrion was skeptical, he didn’t believe it, "And do you really think that Yggdrasil had accepted this intruder and the alleged Dragon?"

Aelfric appeared dubious himself, "You must remember the rain storm that happened suddenly last week. The Elf claimed that it was the work of his Master, the Dragon."

He looked at the Elders who still appeared to be uneasy but then Elandor picked up the light blue mana stone brooch and held it in his palm. He closed his eyes and poured his mana into it. The mana that he felt back was something that he had been acquainted with. The mana was unmistakably of a Dragon.

He opened his eyes, "This device... indeed contains the Dragon’s mana. No,... this is a Dragon’s own mana stone."

Caldris and others were at a loss for words.

"So, this Dragon had asked us to hold the war for two weeks?" Vaelrion asked and Aelfric nodded.

"We don’t want any unnecessary casualties and any harm done to Yggdrasil that’s why, we must be patient for now." Aelfric said, "If there are demons involved then the war among us will give them a path to harm Yggdrasil."

The Elders who were against the war quickly sided with Aelfric while Vaelorian who still stood with the torn piece of fabric in his hand couldn’t help but fhave second thoughts. He had seen demons and dragons in his lifetime during the war but he also knew that leaving a wound open like this would likely fester and besides, they had no idea on what was going on with the Dark Elves. They might just be planning an attack right now.

"So, we only sit on our hands and wait?" Vaelrion asked.

Aelfric faced him and spoke, "Yes. Just for one more week."

Silence fell again.

The divide in the room had become clear now.

Those who agreed with Vaelorian stood tense, restless.

Those who stood with Aelfric remained quieter, but no less uneasy.

Vaelorian held Aelfric’s gaze for a long moment before inclining his head- just slightly.

"As you command," he said.

But there was no agreement in his voice.

Only restraint.

For now.

As the council began to disperse, voices low and unsettled, Vaelorian turned without another word and strode toward the exit.

The decision had been made.

Or rather, avoided.

And that, in his eyes, was far worse.

By the time he stepped out into the corridor, his mind had already begun moving ahead. He only partially believed what he had just heard which was why he was even more sure if one thing. This war, must happen.

But if the King would not act...

Then someone else would have to.