A knock on the door echoed through the silence of the apartment, a steady, relentless sound that immediately caught the attention of Eldranthor and Fenryr. Exchanging a knowing glance, a silent understanding passed between the two. Eldranthor rose gracefully from his chair, the old floorboards creaking slightly under his weight as he made his way to the entrance.
Pulling the door open, Eldranthor found himself looking into the eyes of Alastair Trim. Alastair stood tall and imposing in the dim light spilling from the apartment, his sharp eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. His voice, when he spoke, was friendly, yet his gaze held a calculating look that belied his cordiality.
“Good evening, Eldranthor," he greeted, standing firm on the threshold. "May I come in?"
Eldranthor stepped aside, his actions wordless, but his cautious gaze never left Alastair. As he moved, two more figures slipped from the shadows of the night, following Alastair into the apartment like specters. Eldranthor didn't need to ask; he knew they were from the Stewards of the Black Moon. An invisible aura of frosty energy wrapped around them, a clear signature.
Alastair, not bothering with further social courtesies, extended his hand in a rhythmic pattern. Eldranthor's eyes narrowed slightly at the familiar gesture. As Alastair’s soft chant began, a chilling energy filled the room, reminding Eldranthor of the spell the Stewards had introduced in their first meeting, the one they claimed would seamlessly blend science and magic.
A surge of adrenaline sparked within Eldranthor, and he shot a quick glance at Fenryr. His friend, his ally, understood the urgency of the situation. Fenryr subtly retreated, his hand stealthily reaching for the iron rod they had hidden away for emergencies.
As Alastair’s chant continued to resonate within the four walls of the apartment, a strange, pulsating energy began to radiate from him. The room began to distort, the edges of reality wavering as a shimmering portal started to form. Time seemed to slow down, and Eldranthor knew, with a bone-deep certainty, they had to act swiftly.
Positioning himself between Alastair and Fenryr, Eldranthor's hands began to move in a counter-rhythm to Alastair's. Simultaneously, Fenryr made his move, lunging at one of Alastair's companions, taking him by surprise. Chaos erupted, a dance of violence and magic.
The room was filled with a deafening blast as Eldranthor’s defensive magic collided with Alastair's portal. Eldranthor’s counter spell was powerful, raw, sending an electrical shockwave through the room that disrupted the portal's formation, causing it to flicker and fade, leaving a resounding silence in its wake.
It was then the second Steward made his move, drawing a knife and lunging at Fenryr. But Eldranthor was quicker. With a swift chant, he cast a binding spell. Magical ropes sprang from thin air, wrapping around the Steward, immobilizing him completely.
Alastair watched it all, his expression inscrutable. "You misunderstand our intentions, Eldranthor," he said calmly. "We only seek peace."
"Peace," Eldranthor echoed, his gaze hardened. "Your actions do not reflect your words, Alastair. I suggest you leave."
Alastair paused, but instead of retreating, he countered, "Don't you wish to see the truth of our words?"
"This isn't about seeing or believing," Eldranthor responded, his voice resonating with quiet conviction. "It's about consent, safety, and understanding. You cannot just barge into our home and unleash powerful magic without discussing it with us first."
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The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by the occasional whistle of wind from outside. Alastair's gaze remained fixed on Eldranthor, a silent battle of wills ensuing between the two. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Alastair broke the silence.
"Very well, Eldranthor. We're willing to wait until you're ready, but not indefinitely." His words hung heavy in the room, a veiled threat among promises of patience.
Fenryr, who had remained silent through the exchange, finally found his voice. His tone was firm, unwavering. "If we do this, it will be in neutral territory, in daylight. We'll do it at the university library. Agreed?"
A moment of consideration, then Alastair nodded. "Agreed. We will meet you there tomorrow at noon."
Eldranthor held Alastair's gaze, his own eyes hard. "Good," he said, his voice laced with cold resolve. "And Alastair, if your intentions are indeed as peaceful as you claim, I suggest you start demonstrating that with your actions."
With that, the room fell into silence again, the tension hanging in the air palpable. Finally, Alastair turned towards the door, his companions following suit. "We will see you tomorrow," he said before disappearing into the night.
As the door closed, the apartment was once again left in silence, leaving Eldranthor and Fenryr alone with their thoughts.
"What just happened?" Fenryr asked after a moment, his gaze still lingering on the now closed door.
"We may have just agreed to a potential breakthrough," Eldranthor mused, his voice filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Or we've agreed to a potential disaster. Only time will tell, Fenryr. Only time will tell."
Upon entering the room at the Golden Sun, Eldranthor was greeted by the sight of Morgan standing at the end of a long table, his expression grave. Around him, the members of the council were seated, their faces equally serious.
"Eldranthor," Morgan acknowledged him, his eyes meeting Eldranthor's. He gestured towards an empty chair. "Please, sit."
Eldranthor complied, taking his seat. He took a deep breath and looked around at the council. These were people he trusted, people he had built relationships with over the past months.
"I've made a discovery," he began, his voice steady. He relayed everything he'd learned, the connections of the Stewards of the Black Moon to the creation of the atom bomb, their initial goal to blend science and magic, and the spell they had offered him.
There was silence as he finished speaking, the council members digesting his revelations. Morgan was the first to break the silence.
"You believe their intentions to be true?" he asked, looking at Eldranthor intently.
Eldranthor paused, considering his answer carefully. "I believe they believe their intentions are true," he finally said. "But that doesn't mean they are right, or that we should trust them without question."
His answer was met with nods from the council. Eldranthor continued, "There is a chance that this could be a breakthrough, a way to bring our world and theirs closer together. But it could also be a disaster."
The room fell silent again, the weight of Eldranthor's words sinking in. A heavy tension hung in the air. Then, Morgan spoke again.
"And what of you, Eldranthor? What do you propose we do?"
Eldranthor looked at Morgan, then at each council member in turn. "I believe we should be cautious, but open. If the Stewards are truly offering a path towards mutual understanding, we owe it to our world to explore it. But we also owe it to our world to be vigilant, to be prepared for the worst."
He left his seat and began to pace the room, the council members watching him closely. "The Stewards have agreed to perform the spell at the university library tomorrow at noon. I suggest we be there, prepared for whatever might happen."
A murmur went through the council. After a moment, Morgan nodded, his expression resolute. "Then we will be there, Eldranthor," he said. "We will stand with you, prepared for whatever the Stewards have planned."
Eldranthor felt a rush of gratitude. He nodded at Morgan, his gaze then sweeping over the council. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For your trust, and for your willingness to face the unknown with me."
As he left the room, he felt a strange mix of apprehension and relief. Whatever tomorrow brought, he would not face it alone. The Golden Sun would be at his side. The council had chosen unity over division, trust over betrayal. Now, all they could do was wait for what the morrow would bring.