With a deep, steadying breath, Liora straightened her posture, wiping the last of her tears away as determination began to replace the fear in her eyes. "I'll do it," she said softly but firmly, her voice carrying a newfound resolve.
"what's the next step?" Elowen studied her for a moment, seemingly satisfied with the shift in her demeanor, and nodded. "for now, return to your daily life as if nothing has changed. Let me handle the council and prepare the groundwork. I'll send for you once I've resolved certain… details."
Her tone was calm but commanding, leaving no room for argument. Liora hesitated briefly, glancing toward the door as though imagining Evelyn waiting on the other side, then gave a small, resolute nod.
"alright. But please… don't let anything happen to her until then." Elowen's expression softened slightly, and she placed a reassuring hand on Liora's shoulder. "trust me. Now go."
Once Liora had left the chamber, Elowen turned her attention to the elders who had been waiting outside. Cedric leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, while Lucien paces nearby, clearly impatient.
"well?" Lucien prompted sharply as soon as Elowen stepped into view. "did you get answers? Or are we still playing guessing games with glowing sticks?" Elowen ignored the jab, her gaze steady and purposeful.
"gather the council. We need an emergency meeting—tonight. There are matters that require immediate discussion, and decisions that cannot wait." Cedric raised an eyebrow, pushing off the wall.
"this sounds serious. Should we brace ourselves for bad news—or worse news?" Elowen smirked faintly, though there was no humor in her eyes. "let's just say humanity's future might hinge on what happens next. But I can't wait for tonight meeting, I think it's gonna be more exciting than this troublesome audition."
The meeting took place in the dimly lit chamber on the top floor of the council office, the kind of room that seemed designed for secrets. The air was heavy with anticipations as the council members and Elowen gathered around the large wooden table, their faces illuminated by flickering candlelight.
It was well past midnight, a time chosen specifically to avoid prying eyes or loose lips. Elder Lucien Pendragon leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers impatiently.
"alright, Verdant Blade," she said, her tone laced with both sarcasm and curiosity, "you've got us all here at this ungodly hour. What's so urgent it couldn't wait until breakfast?"
Elowen ignored the jab, adjusting her voodoo doll on the table before speaking. "after the staff choose Liora, I contacted the Great Mages through my… associate here." She gestured the doll, which twitched slightly, earning a raised eyebrow from Elder Cedric.
"is that thing going to start talking again? Because I'm not sure my heart can handle another light show," he muttered dryly. Elowen shot him a glare but continued.
"the next step is clear: I am to guide Liora to Solara Temple. There, the Grand Priest must lead us to a sealed door on the second floor—a door only Liora can unlock and enter." The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in.
Grand Priest Agapios, who had been unusally quiet until now, leaned forward, his expression grave. "a sealed door? You mean the sealed door? The one that no one could open since the time of the Ten Saints?"
Elowen nodded curtly. "that's the one. Apparently, whatever lies beyond it holds the key to unlocking the power Liora will need to face the demon race."
Lucien crossed her arms, skepticism written across her face. "and what exactly does 'unlocking the power' entail? Is she supposed to fight demons with hugs and good intentions?"
Elowen smirked faintly, though her tone remained serious. "I wasn't given details—just instructions. We take her there, she opens the door, and we see what happens next. Simple enough for you, elder?"
Lucien rolled her eyes. "oh yes, because nothing screams 'foolproof plan' like sending an inexperienced girl into a mysterious, ancient chamber. What could possibly go wrong?" despite the tension, Cedric chuckled under his breath.
"well, if things get dicey, maybe the doll can bail us out. Can it cast protective barriers too, or is it just here for moral support?" Elowen's glare silenced him instantly, but the brief levity helped ease some of the unease hanging over the room.
The room had barely settled from the initial shock of Elowen's revelation about the sealed door when Elder Gawain leaned forward, her usually warm demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic urgency.
"that can't be the only matter we're discussing tonight," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the lingering tension like a blade. Her eyes locked onto Elowen, who raised an eyebrow in response.
"get to the main event, mage. What else do you have for us?" Elowen didn't hesitate this time; there was no theatrics, no cryptic buildup. With a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, she delivered her next bombshell. "the sacrifices to the cave-orcs must stop."
For a split second, the chamber fell eerily silent—then erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped in a cacophony of disbelief and outrage. Elder Lucien Pendragon shot up from her seat, nearly knocking over her chair.
"stop?! Are you mad? Do you know what those monsters will do if we renege on our agreement?!" meanwhile, Cedric shouted over her, his face flushed with frustration. "and how exactly do you propose we explain this to the citizens without inciting panic—or worse, rebellion?!"
As the shouting reached a fever pitch, Gawain finally raised both hands, her voice ringing out above the din. "enough!" the sharp command silenced the room, though the tension remained palpable.
She took a deep breath, her expression softening slightly but still resolute. "perhaps… perhaps it is time to end this dark tradition. To move toward a better future for Sanctora—for all of us."
Her words ignited another wave of heated debate. Agapios slammed his fist on the table, his calm façade cracking under the pressure. "better future? Have you forgotten what happens when the orcs feel betrayed? They'll descend upon us like locusts! And even if we survive that, how do we justify breaking centuries of 'divine' practice to the people? Trust in the council is fragile enough as it is. One misstep, and we risk losing everything—including order itself."
Elowen sat back in her chair, watching the chaos unfold with barely concealed amusement. Her fingers toyed absently with her voodoo doll, its straw limbs twitching faintly as though feeding off the energy in the room.
She seemed content to let the council unravel themselves further, her lips curling into a sly smile every time someone raised their voice or gestured wildly.
When the shouting subsided once more, leaving the elders visibly drained, Elder Alaric Aguilar spoke up quietly, his tone measured but firm.
"I agree with Gawain," he said, earning startled looks from the others. "this tradition has stained us long enough. If there's any chance to break free of it—to give our people hope instead of fear—we owe it to them to try."
His words hung heavy in the air, met not with shouts this time but with thoughtful silence. Each member of the council appeared lost in their own thoughts, weighing the risks against the possibilities.
Finally, Agapios broke the quiet, his voice weary but steady. "let's say we agree to stop the sacrifices. How do we present this to the citizens without causing mass hysteria? Or worse, distrust in the council? A coup would plunge us into chaos far greater than anything we face now."
Cedric nodded grimly, adding his own concerns. "and don't forget the immediate danger. Even if we manage to convince the people, the orcs won't simply shrug this off. They've grown complacent because of the sacrifices. Without them, they'll see us as traitor—and attack accordingly."
The councils still divided into two sides, in doubt to call a decision, thinking hard and silently. Then to stop the debate and convince them to make a decision, Elowen took out a small tome while saying.
"it seems like it's time for me to share the secret of this kingdom with you." Elowen stood before the great wooden table, her fingers tracing the edges of an old, dust-covered tome. Before her, the council figures sat in the dim candlelight, listening intently.
"You believe Sanctora was founded in peace," Elowen murmured. "That the orcs simply chose to leave. But that's a lie." She lifted her gaze, her voice steady.
"I learned the truth from one of the Six Great Mages. A truth that not a single council member, not a single citizen of Sanctora, has ever known." The listener did not speak, only watching her, waiting. Elowen turned a page, her voice softer now.
"Saint Felix didn't negotiate with the orcs. He didn't reason with them. He crushed them." She looked up. "With magic alone."
The candlelight flickered. "When he arrived, the orcs ruled these lands. They were beasts, yes, but they were organized. Ruthless. No human settlement lasted more than a season before they burned.
And then, one day… a single man walked into their stronghold." Elowen's fingers pressed against the worn parchment. "Saint Felix…" They say he did not come with an army.
He had no weapons, no armor. Just his magic. And when the orcs stood before him, ready to tear him apart…" She exhaled. "They never even reached him." A heavy silence filled the air. "He burned them where they stood," she whispered.
"He split the earth beneath their feet, swallowed them in fire. Lightning rained from the heavens, reducing their war camps to nothing but ash. Some were torn apart by invisible forces, crushed under the weight of the sky itself. And those who survived?"
She leaned forward. "They ran." The orcs—creatures of war, creatures who had terrorized humankind—had fled. Their numbers shattered, their warriors dead, they abandoned the lands they had once ruled and vanished beneath the mountains. Into the caves."
Elowen's eyes darkened. "For years, they did not return." She turned another page in the tome, her voice cold now. "But even in hiding, they were not dead. Small hunting parties—one or two at a time—would creep out of their caves.
And when they did, they stole something far more valuable than gold or land." She met the listener's eyes. "They stole people."
A long pause. "At first, it was rare. A missing farmer. A merchant who never made it home. But it wasn't enough for them. They were starving. Trapped. And so, the kidnappings became more frequent. And then—"
Elowen's voice lowered. "Something changed." The listener stiffened. "The orcs's hunters expected to be caught. They had lived in fear of the Pale Phantom—of Saint Felix—for generations. But one day, they took a human, and nothing happened. No flames fell from the sky. No magic tore them apart. They returned to their caves, and still… nothing."
A chill filled the room. "They stole another. And another. And another." Elowen exhaled slowly. "And that was when they realized… Saint Felix was dead."
The listener's hands curled into fists. "The orcs no longer feared us," she continued. "They saw us as nothing more than livestock. And when the kidnappings became too frequent, the council of that time—panicked, powerless—made a choice."
Elowen's eyes were sharp, her voice unshaken. "They sought out the orc king… and offered him a deal." The words lingered in the air like a funeral bell.
"A sacrifice. In exchange for peace." Elowen closed the tome. The weight of history settled upon them both. "And that is how Sanctora's 'peace' was truly founded." Silence hung in the room's air.
"Not through diplomacy," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "But through fear. Through the absence of a man who once held our enemies at bay. And through a deal… that cost us our own people."
She leaned back, exhaling. "And that deal has lasted ever since." The gravity of their predicament settled over the room like a suffocating fog. For the first time that night, no one argued.
Instead, they exchanged uneasy glances, each silently grappling with the enormity of the decision before them. Elowen, still observing silently, allowed herself a small, satisfied nod.
This was humanity at its rawest: flawed, fearful, yet capable of change. Whether they succeded or failed, the die had already been cast. The weight of history hung over the chamber like a storm cloud, but for the first time in decades, the council saw the truth with unclouded eyes.
No more deception. No more blind adherence to a broken peace. Grand Priest Agapios exhaled sharply, then stood. "Enough. We have spent generations pretending peace existed when it never did. We cannot let this cycle continue." His gaze swept over the others, filled with steel-like resolve.
"No more sacrifices. We fight." Cedric, who had been the most hesitant, finally nodded. "Then we must act quickly. The orcs will not wait for us to decide."
Elowen folded her arms, her expression unreadable. "War is inevitable," she murmured. "But if we are to survive it, we must not fight like those who came before us. We must fight to win."
Alaric smirked, the fire of battle already lighting in his eyes. "Then let's plan how to crush them. Elder Lucien, though visibly out of breath from the heated debate, managed to steady herself and raise a finger as if punctuating her moment of clarity.
"listen," she began, her voice cutting through the lingering tension like a blade slicing fog. "if we're worried about chaos, then perhaps it's time to fight fire with… well, less harmful fire."
She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "we've been lying to the people for centuries about the sacrifices being holy acts—why not twist that narrative one last time?"
"We'll announce that all this time, the victims have ascended directly into the embrace of God upon reaching the mountain's peak—a divine pilgrimage. But now, scouts report that the orcs are preparing a raid—not just on the procession, but on the entire kingdom."
"Given this imminent threat, we declare the pilgrimage too dangerous to proceed and instead rally our forces to defend Sanctora." Her words hung heavy in the air, each sentence carefully crafted to sound noble and selfless.
The room fell silent as the council absorbed her plan, their expressions shifting between skepticism and reluctant admiration. Elder Gawain was the first to break the quiet, her tone thoughtful yet cautios.
"it could work," she admitted, tapping her fingers lightly against the table. "the people trust us—or at least they want to believe in something greater than themselves. If framed correctlly, they'll see this as an act of courage rather than cowardice. Sympathy might even turn in our favor; after all, who wouldn't admire leaders willing to risk everything to protect their people?"
Yet even as hope flickered faintly among them, the weight of reality quickly extinguished it.
Grand Priest Agapios leaned forward, his brow furrowed deeply. "but Lucien," he said gravely, "your plan hinges on one critical assumption: that we can actually defeat the orcs. Without a viable strategy for battle, this 'white lie' becomes nothing more than delaying the inevitable."
As if drawn by invisible strings, every pair of eyes in the chamber slowly turned toward Elowen. Lucient didn't bother masking her intent, pointing a finger directly at the mage.
"which brings us back to you, Verdant Blade. You've seen what's coming—you know better than any of us how dire this situation is. So tell me: how are we supposed to fight an army of cave-orcs when our soldiers barely qualify as farmers with spears?"
Elowen raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden spotlight. For a moment, she simply sat there, letting the tention simmer while her voodoo doll twitched faintly on the table.
Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she leaned forward. "when I said to Liora that I'd walk this path with her, I meant every word—including ensuring she, the kid, and everyone in this kingdom lives long enough to fulfill our destiny."
The room collectively exhaled, though whether in relief or disbelief was unclear. Whatever Elowen had planned, one thing was certain: the stakes never been higher.
Elowen's confident smirk faded as she leaned back in her chair, her expression turning grim, "let's be clear," she said, her tone sharp and unyielding.
"fighting an entire orc horde isn't exactly a walk in the garden—even for someone like me. I'll need every soldier, every mage, and every scrap of magic this kingdom can muster. And even then, it won't be easy."
Her piercing gaze swept across the room, landing briefly on each council member before settling on Elder Alaric, who had raised a hesitant hand. "what about aid from the other human kingdoms?" Alaric asked, his voice tinged with cautious hope.
"surely they'd send reinforcements if we explained the urgency." Elowen shook her head firmly, her fingers absently tapping the table. "even if they're willing to send reinforcements, it will take days or weeks just to debate between the high table of each kingdom, thanks to the Ten Saints policy."
She chuckled a bit, "moreover, the time it will take for a full equipped army to march here, with fastest horse and minimal rest, will take at least 5 days. So, no. by the time their armies reach us, Sanctora will already be ash. We're on our own for this fight."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as though weighing her next words.
"But I won't abandon you. I'll do everything in my power to ensure this kingdom survives—and that includes preparing your forces for what's coming. Still.." her gaze softened ever so slightly as she glanced toward the door, as if picturing Liora beyond it.
"if she succeeds in unlocking that power at Solara Temple, Liora might just be the one who saves us all. Let's hope she's ready faster than any of us expect."