Elysian’s thoughts swirled as he watched Throrak’s hulking form recede into the distance, trailed by a formidable entourage of trolls and hobgoblins—Durvalk among them. The brief respite eased the knot in his chest, though the Matriarch’s enigmatic smile hinted that his trials were far from over.

  ‘At least Throrak’s not from Clan Draekthar. No one from the Matriarch’s clan seems to have a grudge against me… yet.’

  Elysian mused, letting himself savor the fragile reprieve.

  Thaldruna’s voice broke through his thoughts. “So, your name is Elysian,” she said, her gaze weighing him anew. Her head tilted slightly as she appraised him. “You’re smaller than I imagined.”

  Elysian froze, his face betraying a flicker of emotion before he could clamp down on it. His lips wavered in an awkward attempt at a smile, though it threatened to twist into a scowl. Her words hit a sore spot he’d rather not admit, but he forced himself to respond with an unsteady, “Thank… thank you?”

  ‘Why does everyone always have to comment on my height? I’m still growing! I’m just a kid. This is my second life; I know there’s still time.’

  Shaking off his frustration, Elysian decided to change the subject. “By the way, Old One,” he began, trying to sound casual, though his curiosity gnawed at him. “Why did you save my life? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but… I’m just the son of a baron. That’s hardly important to you, right? So why go through the trouble? And why does calling me your personal guest make everyone act like that? Also—”

  Thaldruna’s laughter cut him off, a deep, resonant sound hummed around them. “You have many questions, child,” she said, her tone amused. “In time, I will answer as best I can. For now, though, we have somewhere to be.”

  “Okay,” Elysian replied hesitantly, watching as the Matriarch turned and began walking. Her pace was measured, but her strides were so long he had to hurry just to keep up. “Where are we going?”

  “To a meeting,” she answered, her voice steady but offering no further detail.

  Elysian waited, hoping she’d elaborate. When she didn’t, he prodded, “A meeting? But isn’t the meeting over? Throrak’s already gone.”

  Thaldruna chuckled, nodding slightly. “You’re correct. The meeting with Clan Gulthram and our other allies is concluded. But the meeting with Clan Draekthar is just about to begin.”

  ‘Okay, but isn’t this something private—something an outsider like me shouldn’t take part in? I already have enough on my plate. If I get involved with these powerful figures, I’ll just endanger myself… and Ironspire.’

  Elysian sighed as he struggled to match her stride, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Old One, it’s a great honor to attend the meeting of Clan Draekthar,” he began cautiously, his voice tinged with reluctance. “But why do I need to be there? I’m just an outsider, after all.”

  Kaerthlyn’s cheerful voice cut in before Thaldruna could reply. “If Grandmother wants you to be there, you should take her advice,” she said, giving him a knowing look as if he were slow to grasp the obvious. “Or you’ll regret it.”

  Elysian blinked at her bluntness, momentarily throwing him off. Her nonchalant shrug seemed to say to just go along with it.

  “Okay,” he relented with a nod, masking his misgivings behind a polite smile. “You’re right. My mistake. I’ll gladly join you. It’s… a great honor.”

  ‘Nice try. But it’s not like I have a choice. And Kaerthlyn’s probably right. The Matriarch must have a reason for wanting me there. Hopefully, it’s not just another problem waiting to explode in my face.’

  As they neared the giant tree, Elysian’s breath caught. Towering far above them, its sprawling canopy blot out the sky, its colossal branches thick enough to house entire neighborhoods. The ancient wooden structures clinging to the trunk were nothing short of breathtaking. Each building radiated a sense of reverence and history, carved seamlessly into the living wood as if grown there by some ancient magic.

  Intricate runes glowed faintly along the walls, their meanings elusive but undoubtedly significant. Smaller structures spiraled upward, connected by bridges woven from thick vines. But it was the building at the heart of it all that truly stole his attention—a massive edifice perched on a platform of interlocking branches, its size dwarfing the rest.

  The central hall was a marvel of troll craftsmanship, its soaring arches and engraved pillars designed to accommodate the towering frames of its inhabitants. The runes etched into its surface seemed to pulse with an inner light, as though the tree itself breathed life into the symbols. The entrance loomed ahead, a pair of monumental doors carved with scenes of troll history and legend, their artistry both humbling and intimidating.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Elysian’s awe turned to trepidation as they approached. He could already feel the weight of the gathering inside—the power and authority that would surround him within those walls. He swallowed hard and followed, each step pulling him deeper into a world he barely understood but couldn’t escape.

  ‘Here we go.’

  Elysian’s breath stopped as he stepped into the massive chamber. Despite its spaciousness, the room was deceptively simple in design. Towering pillars carved directly from the tree’s wood rose to meet a vaulted ceiling, their surfaces etched with glowing runes that whispered of ancient power. The walls, curved and alive with faintly shimmering bark, exuded an unshakable sense of age and authority. Braziers of soft green flame dotted the perimeter, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the austere furnishings—massive chairs hewn from living wood, their intricate carvings hinting at the histories and legends of the Clan Draekthar.

  The air within was dense, charged with a primal energy that prickled Elysian’s skin. It felt as though the very tree was watching, its essence woven into every corner of the room. Only a handful of trolls occupied the space, but their presence was overwhelming. Each radiated a raw, oppressive power that made Throrak’s retinue seem tame by comparison. The sheer weight of their collective aura nearly drove Elysian to flee, his instincts screaming at him to run.

  And then he saw the figure seated at the front of the gathering. Elysian’s eyes widened in alarm. The troll was nearly as tall as Throrak but leaner, his muscular frame exuding a deadly presence that spoke of a killer’s efficiency. Where Throrak embodied brute strength, this troll seemed engineered to end his opponents swiftly and without mercy. The sharp angles of his face, the glint of intelligence in his piercing eyes, and the predatory way he sat—it all coalesced into an aura of danger so potent it made Elysian’s stomach churn. If Throrak was like a battering ram, this troll was a blade honed to a razor’s edge.

  ‘Another dangerous figure appears. Am I really surprised? Sigh. Well, it still does, but it seems expected in this place—as ancient as it is.’

  As Elysian and the Matriarch entered, the room fell into an immediate, almost oppressive silence. All eyes turned toward them, the trolls rising in unison to acknowledge Thaldruna’s presence. The Matriarch waved a hand dismissively, her voice cutting through the room. “Enough with the formalities,” she sighed, her tone weary but commanding. She strode to the front of the chamber and lowered herself into the empty chair beside the lethal-looking troll, her movements unhurried yet exuding undeniable authority.

  ‘This place is really full of monsters. I really won’t survive here long if I stay here for a week. Well, even a day without the protection of the Matriarch and Kaerthlyn’s presence.’

  Elysian followed, his steps faltering under the weight of so many stares. The intensity of their gazes made his skin crawl, and he fought the instinct to shrink into himself. Beside him, Kaerthlyn walked with an easy confidence, her head held high as though she owned the place. In a way, she might as well have; as the granddaughter of the Matriarch, her place here was unquestionable. Elysian envied her composure, struggling to emulate it as best he could.

  The arrangement of the chamber’s seating was simple, devoid of any central table. Instead, an expanse of open space dominated the center, emphasizing the vastness of the room. Chairs carved from the giant tree’s wood formed arcs around the center, their designs both functional and imposing. At the front, a row of larger seats commanded attention, where the Matriarch and the deadly troll sat, facing the rest of the gathering.

  Everyone seated there radiated authority, their presence as ancient and formidable as the room itself. Elysian couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast—the stark simplicity of the arrangement belied its grandeur, every detail a testament to the trolls’ mastery of blending power and restraint.

  As he took his place beside Kaerthlyn, his heart could not stop racing.

  ‘This isn’t just a meeting; this is a council of titans. And I’m the ant in the room.’

  Silence gripped the gathering, heavy and oppressive, as every pair of eyes fixed on Elysian. The weight of their stares bore down on him, but none were as unnerving as the piercing gaze of the powerful troll seated beside the Matriarch. There was no malice in those eyes, no overt animosity, only an intense curiosity and traces of surprise. Still, it did little to ease the tension in Elysian’s chest.

  ‘Why am I even here?’

  He shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. As the silence stretched on, the atmosphere became even more suffocating, the stillness amplifying his every fidget and squirm. Elysian averted his gaze, staring on one of the ornate pillars at the back of the chamber, pretending it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

  ‘I get it, okay? I shouldn’t be here. We all agree. Now can we just start this meeting so I can get out of here alive? And why aren’t Kaerthlyn or the Matriarch saying anything? They’re definitely enjoying this.’

  Elysian’s hands clenched at his sides as he resisted the urge to break the silence himself. He knew all too well that speaking out of turn could be perceived as disrespectful, even offensive. After his earlier blunder with Throrak, he couldn’t afford another misstep—not in front of Clan Draekthar. His luck was already stretched thin, and he didn’t trust it to hold much longer. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to stay quiet and endure.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for long.

  “Matriarch, may we know who this human boy is?” The voice came from the terrifying troll at the Matriarch’s side. His gaze never left Elysian, his tone deep and commanding, yet somehow devoid of malice.

  ‘Well, at least this one’s speaking in human tongue. Not like those earlier trolls who seemed to take pleasure in making things difficult for me.’

  Thaldruna chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Ah, I wondered who would finally speak first. You’ve all been so silent, just sitting there gawking.” Her gaze shifted to the troll who had spoken. “Vrakdur, you’ve been the clan leader of Draekthar for decades now, yet you’re still timid around me when I occasionally attend these meetings. How do you expect to lead our people if you keep acting like this?”

  “But Grandmother…” Vrakdur began, only to halt abruptly as Thaldruna raised an eyebrow. His posture stiffened. “I’m sorry, Matriarch. I will heed your words,” he said, bowing his head in deference.

  ‘Grandmother? Clan leader? Wait, is he related to Kaerthlyn? They’ve got to be. Maybe siblings? But he looks ancient. Then again, trolls are supposed to be immortal, so I guess that’s possible.’

  Thaldruna’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good.” She turned her attention back to the room, her gaze sweeping over the assembled trolls. “As for your question, this is Elysian,” she declared, her voice carrying an undeniable authority. “Son of the ruler of the fortress you currently surrounded and wanted to take.”

  Elysian’s mind stuttered to a halt. His confusion gave way to alarm, his eyes widening as dread unfurled in his chest. “Are you talking about Grimwatch?” he blurted, his voice loud, laced with disbelief and fear.

  Patreon

  Ko-Fi