Elaris took another sip from his goblet, then leaned back in his chair.

  "Where’s that cunt, Darin?"

  "Darin will not be joining this meeting," Maerlyn replied, slipping a sharp golden ring off his finger. All the councilors wore similar rings, but following Maerlyn’s lead, the others removed theirs and set them on the table in front of them.

  "This meeting doesn’t require a non-sorcerer's opinion. It’s about the Dying Dawn."

  Elaris scoffed. "What about them?"

  "They're pushing their territory eastward, towards our realm," Maerlyn said, pouring himself some wine. "They’ve killed a few of our Veyrians."

  Torrek scratched his beard. "So? We kill dozens of those Dawners every month, and they kill a few of ours. Nothing new."

  Maerlyn huffed, rubbing his temple. "They’re getting too close — testing how far they can go before we stop them. We've given them too much leeway. It might cost us."

  Elaris chuckled softly. "Don't tell me you're afraid of those bastards. One clan could wipe them out if we wanted."

  "So why don’t we?" Maerlyn asked.

  The room fell silent. All eyes turned toward him.

  "Why?" Elaris leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Because it would be a waste of time. And we don’t even know where their stronghold is."

  Maerlyn rose from his chair and crossed to the window, gazing down at the lively capital below.

  "We could find it," he said. "The Dawners are larger in number than we’d like to believe. There are thousands of them, according to Vaelion’s reports."

  Elaris raised an eyebrow, glancing sharply at Vaelion. "Vaelion’s reports? And why weren't these reports shared with me and Torrek?"

  "They're being shared with you now, aren’t they?" Vaelion smiled, an eerie glint in his eyes.

  Elaris stared at him, fingers interlocked. "Shame you can’t read my mind, Vaelion. I think you’d piss yourself if you could."

  "Is that a threat?"

  Elaris chuckled and shook his head. "A threat? I don’t threaten people, Vaelion. I kill them."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Maerlyn turned around, face tight with irritation.

  "Could you two shut up!?" he barked.

  Elaris groaned, pushing himself up from his chair and snatching his ring off the table.

  "Do whatever you like, Maerlyn," he said. "Just know you’ll be starting a war — and there’s no walking that back. I’m going to rest. Feel free to finish the meeting without me."

  He walked out, and a heavy silence settled over the room.

  Averis and Rynn had finally made it out of the Long Grass, crossing into the Hardlands — a poor region dotted with struggling villages. The road stretched clear around them, surrounded by fields of worn, tired grass. In the distance, a small village came into view.

  "Is that the village?" Rynn asked.

  Averis shook his head. "No. The one we’re headed to is a bit further."

  She huffed, digging an apple out of the pouch tied to her saddle. "We’ve been riding for a week. I don’t think I can survive another day sitting on horseback."

  "You've gotten used to flying with the beastbornes," Averis said. "Some ride for months without complaint."

  "Well, tell those idiots they're welcome to keep doing it. They're either too cheap or too attached to their horse."

  Averis glanced back at her. "Not everyone can afford to buy a sky-beast. And even if they could — they're temporary. Not a good investment. There aren’t many who can conjure them, either."

  Rynn took a bite of her apple and muttered, "Thank you for the enlightenment, brother," her tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Averis said nothing, focusing on the road ahead.

  "We can stay at an inn for the day if you'd like," he offered after a moment.

  Rynn turned toward him, raising a brow. "But you hate inns."

  "You’re right. But you’re tired. You'll become a nuisance later if you don't rest."

  She laughed, then threw her half-eaten apple at him. It bounced off his head with a soft thud.

  "So you weren’t concerned for me — just the task," she said, still chuckling. "You never change, do you?"

  Averis wiped his hair clean with a rag from his pocket.

  "I see no reason to," he replied, glancing at the apple on the ground. "Why waste it?"

  "We’ll get more food. Why care?"

  He offered no response, nudging his horse forward. The village was finally within reach. Rynn quickened her pace, and Averis followed.

  As they arrived at the gloomy settlement, Averis wasted no time. He flagged down a passerby — an older man who eyed their cloaks and the dark sigil stitched on their chests: a golden sun half-obscured by a black crescent. The man's expression stiffened, but he chuckled nervously and gave a short bow.

  "The nearest inn?" Averis asked.

  "Straight ahead," the man said quickly. "Past the stables. House next to it should be what you’re looking for."

  Averis gave a small nod and rode on.

  The inn reeked of smoky, wet wood and spilled ale. Inside, men drank, gambled, and shouted over one another in chaotic bursts of laughter.

  But the moment Averis and Rynn stepped through the door, the noise died.

  Every eye turned to them.

  For a beat, there was nothing but heavy silence — until a sharp laugh rang out from the back corner. A man lounged there, boots propped up on the table, a wide grin splitting his face. He had short, dark hair — but it was the red cloak draped over his shoulders that caught Averis’s attention.

  A Veyrian.

  "Don’t let these Dawner fucks scare you!" the man bellowed. "Keep drinking!"