“Indeed, this gathering is of utmost importance,” Timothee stated succinctly. “Your presence is essential, for you hold a key piece in our strategy.”
“I will be there, for I yearn to right the wrongs done to us all,” I affirmed.
“No, my dear, we don’t seek vengeance,” Timothee clarified, his eyes alight with a resolve that was not born of anger but of reclaiming what was rightfully ours. “We are here to reclaim our rights, not to forge new enemies.”

“Let’s return home and rest, for tomorrow we must greet them with open arms,” Timothee spoke once more, his voice a beacon in the encroaching night.
“Indeed. I shall call for Mom first,” I replied, my feet eager to bridge the distance, yet Timothee’s gentle restraint halted me as Fae Aurora approached, her steps silent whispers in the dusk.
“Let’s go home,” Fae Aurora’s whisper was a soft caress in the cool air.
I trailed behind her, the path from the gravesite to our home a short journey made longer by the weight of our hearts. The silence of the night was a canvas, and our footsteps upon the gravel were the soft brushstrokes of retreat. The house loomed ahead, a sanctuary shadowed by the day's events. Inside, the quiet was almost tangible, each of us lost in our own reflections, washing away the remnants of sorrow in solitude.
I lay in bed, the ceiling a blank slate where the day's images replayed. I hadn't seen Asher and Sawyer since morning, their faces now a memory tinged with guilt. Sleep was a reluctant visitor, and when it finally came, it was fitful, filled with dreams of mist and blood.
The dawn broke with a hesitant light, as if the sun too bore the weight of our loss. I rose, feeling the absence of Dwarf Altair like a void. The house was stirring, a silent symphony of preparation for the day's assembly.

Fae Aurora found me in the kitchen, her presence a quiet comfort.
"You should eat something," she said, her voice a gentle nudge against my inertia.
"I'm not hungry," I replied, though the emptiness in my stomach contradicted my words.
She placed a plate before me anyway, the aroma of warm bread and honey a bittersweet reminder of simpler times.

"You need your strength," she insisted. "For today, for tomorrow, for the path that lies ahead."
I nodded, acquiescing to her wisdom. The food was tasteless, but I ate, each bite a small defiance against the despair that threatened to engulf us.
Timothee entered, his demeanor a mix of determination and concern. "Today, we stand united," he declared, his gaze encompassing both of us. "We'll honor Dwarf Altair's legacy by facing whatever comes with courage and wisdom."
From a distance, I heard hurried footsteps echoing between the ballroom and the small kitchen. Dave, impeccably dressed in formal attire, bowed before us.
"Lycan, my apologies for interrupting your time. The Riverwalk leaders and their healers have arrived," Dave explained.
"Very well," Timothee nodded, sipping his coffee and adjusting his suit. "Receive them warmly. I'll join you shortly to extend our welcome."
I took a deep breath and pushed the breakfast plate toward him. "Let's greet them now. It's better that way."
"Finish your meal first, mate," Timothee glanced at my half-full plate. "I don't mind waiting."
The air in the room seemed to hold its breath, as if the walls themselves were privy to the weight of our purpose. Dave's presence was a reminder that our sanctuary was no longer just ours—it was a crossroads where alliances converged, and destinies entwined.
"Dave," I addressed him, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Thank you for informing us promptly. The Riverwalk leaders' arrival is a crucial juncture."
He inclined his head, the lines etched on his face revealing the weight of responsibility. "Lycan, it's an honor to serve."
Timothee's gaze lingered on the untouched breakfast, his eyes reflecting more than mere hunger.
"Barbara," he said, his tone gentle, "you've always been our bridge, connecting worlds. Finish your meal. We'll wait."
I lifted the fork, the metal cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from the freshly baked bread. The crust crackled under the gentle pressure, giving way to the soft, pillowy interior. I savored the simple pleasure, the bread’s rich flavor a fleeting respite from the complexities that awaited us.
Each bite was a reminder of the life we fought to preserve, a life filled with such small, perfect moments amidst the chaos.
The bread, once a mere sustenance, now became a symbol of hope, of the normalcy we yearned to return to. As I ate, I allowed myself this brief interlude, a momentary escape before facing the day’s challenges.
Minutes after finishing my breakfast, I followed the path Timothee and Dave had taken earlier to the ballroom. There, seated among the grandeur, was a man of imposing stature, his broad shoulders casting a formidable silhouette. He was flanked by elders whose beards cascaded down their chests like ancient tapestries.
"Hello, Griffyn," Timothee extended his hand, his greeting bridging the gap of time and formality.
"It's good to see you, Lycan Timothee. It has been too long," Griffyn responded, his handshake firm, a testament to the strength and history shared between them.
"Yes. Indeed, it has been an age since—" Timothee began, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
"Shuuusshhh... let it be," Griffyn interjected, his voice a low rumble, dismissing the past with a wave of his hand. "We have more pressing matters to discuss at this council." His gaze then shifted, taking in my presence and that of Fae Aurora, acknowledging the weight of the moment and the roles we each would play.
“It’s my mate and her mom,” Timothee toned. “Barbara.”
“Nice to meet you, Lyca–”
“I’m an Alpha, Barby.” Griffyn interrupted.
"Barbara," he addressed me, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the room. "You are the bridge between worlds, the thread that weaves our past and future. Your presence here is no accident."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect our home," I replied, my resolve unwavering.
Fae Aurora stepped forward, her grace a silent testament to her strength. "And I, too, stand with you," she said, her eyes meeting Griffyn's. "Dwarf Altair's legacy lives on in us."
Griffyn nodded, acknowledging our commitment. "Then let this council begin," he declared, his voice echoing off the marble walls. "We are the last bastions of magic, the guardians of a fragile equilibrium. Our enemies may be unseen, but their shadows stretch across realms."
Timothee joined us, his presence a beacon of leadership. "Today, we reclaim what was lost," he said, his gaze sweeping over the gathering. "Our unity is our strength, and our purpose is clear—to protect our world from those who seek to unravel it. I’m curious to peel back the layers on what the Riverwalk healers have been cooking up over time.”