Chapter 10
The Chamber of Voices was the heart of our city's governance, a circular room carved from the living rock of the mountain itself.
Acoustic properties built into the stone ensured that even the softest whisper could be heard from any point in the chamber, while preventing outside ears from eavesdropping on our deliberations.
Seven high-backed chairs arranged in a circle marked the seats of the full council, though today I counted only five occupied positions.
Aytara sat in the eastern chair, her silver hair gleaming in the light of the floating orbs that illuminated the space.
To her right was Malachar, our oldest serving council member and the closest thing we had to a military commander.
His weathered face bore the scars of decades spent defending our borders, and his presence usually meant we were discussing matters of war.
The other three seats held Yerana, our chief healer and lore-keeper; Thane, who oversaw trade and resource management; and Kess, one of only two dragon-shifters who held council positions.
The empty chairs belonged to members currently leading border patrols—a reminder of how thin our defences had become.
"Taveth," Aytara's voice carried easily across the chamber as I took my designated seat. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"Of course, Aytara-vel. What news from the borders?"
It was Malachar who answered, his gravelly voice echoing strangely in the acoustically perfect space.
"Three days ago, our scouts reported unusual Imperial activity near the Whispering Gorge.
Large troop movements, supply convoys, the kind of buildup that suggests they're planning something significant. "
The shadows stirred uneasily around my feet. Imperial forces had been probing our defences for months, but they had never committed the kind of resources Malachar was describing.
"How large a force?" I asked.
"Conservative estimates put it at two full legions, plus auxiliary units. Dragon support as well—at least six riders confirmed, possibly more." Yerana's usually calm voice carried a note of concern that sent ice through my veins.
Six dragon riders meant six of our people enslaved and broken, forced to turn their strength against their own kind. The thought made the shadows dance with violent anticipation, eager for blood and vengeance.
"There's more," Kess said, her dragon-shifter senses no doubt picking up on the emotional undercurrents in the room. "Two nights ago, our border patrol captured a small group attempting to infiltrate through the southern passes."
"Spies?" I asked, though something in the atmosphere of the room suggested the answer was more complicated.
"We thought so initially," Malachar replied. "Six men, four clearly Imperials, two who are Talfen dragon-shifters. But the situation is... unusual."
Aytara leaned forward in her chair. "The captured Talfen bear no slave collars. They're unbound, apparently free, and traveling with the Imperials by choice. Most disturbing of all, they're asking questions about an Imperial woman matching your mate's description."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I felt the shadows explode outward from my position with enough force to extinguish several of the floating light orbs. The chamber plunged into semi-darkness, illuminated now only by the natural phosphorescence of the stone walls.
They've come for her, the darkness whispered, and its voice was hungry with anticipation. The ones who marked her. The ones she would choose over you.
"Taveth." Aytara's voice cut through the chaos of my thoughts. "Control yourself."
I forced the shadows back with an effort that left me shaking, the light orbs flickering back to life as my power receded. Around the circle, I could see the other council members watching me with varying degrees of concern and wariness.
"These men," I said, my voice carefully level despite the storm raging inside me. "Where are they being held?"
"The deep cells," Malachar answered. "We've kept the Talfen and Imperials separated until we can determine if the shifters have been compromised by Imperial magic. The Talfen claim to be free agents, but we've never encountered uncollared dragon-shifters working with Imperial forces before."
"And what exactly are they asking about my mate?"
It was Yerana who answered, consulting notes written on bark parchment. "They provided a detailed physical description—height, hair colour, distinguishing features. They claim she was taken during the border skirmish three weeks ago, and they've come to negotiate for her return."
The shadows were screaming now, a chorus of rage and jealousy that made it difficult to think clearly.
These men—her other mates, the ones whose marks she bore beneath her concealing necklaces—had come for her.
They had followed her here, risked their lives to find her, exactly as she had hoped they would.
Kill them, the darkness urged. Kill them before they can take her from you. She is yours by right of conquest, yours by the sacred bond. Let no other touch what belongs to you.
"What does the council recommend?" I asked, proud that my voice betrayed none of the violence brewing inside me.
"Execution," Thane said bluntly. "Imperial spies have always faced death, and their presence here proves they've discovered our location. We cannot allow that intelligence to return to the Empire."
"But they're not traditional spies," Kess protested. "If the dragon-shifters are truly free, then killing them would be tantamount to murdering our own people."
"Free dragon-shifters traveling with Imperial forces?" Malachar shook his head. "It's impossible. They must be under some form of compulsion we don't recognize."
The debate continued around me, but I barely heard the words.
All I could think about was Livia's face when she spoke of her lost mates, the pain in her voice when she described the emptiness of their severed bonds.
She had told me she would choose them over me if given the chance, and now that chance had presented itself.
She will leave you, the shadows whispered. The moment she learns they live, she will abandon you to the darkness. Unless...
"I want to question them myself," I said, cutting through the council's discussion.
Aytara's dark eyes studied me with uncomfortable intensity. "Is that wise? Given your... connection to the woman they seek?"
"It's precisely because of that connection that I should be the one to evaluate their claims," I replied.
"If they truly are her former companions, I would recognize any lies they might tell.
And if they're Imperial agents using her as a cover story, my personal investment will ensure I uncover their deception. "
It was logical, reasonable, exactly the kind of argument the council would find compelling. None of them needed to know about the true nature of my intentions.
The vote was closer than I had hoped but eventually carried.
I would be permitted to question the prisoners, with Malachar accompanying me as both witness and guard against any potential threat.
The session would take place immediately, while the council continued to debate the larger questions of Imperial troop movements and city defence.
As the meeting broke up, Aytara caught my arm as I passed her chair. "Be careful, Taveth," she said quietly. "The shadows are stronger in you today than I've seen before. Don't let them make choices you'll regret."
"I'm perfectly in control," I lied, and from her expression, she knew it was a lie.
The descent to the deep cells was a journey into the heart of the mountain, down corridors that grew progressively narrower and darker as we moved away from the inhabited levels of the city.
The stones here were older, carved by the first generation of shadow mages who had claimed this peak as their refuge.
The very air felt thick with accumulated darkness, pressing against my consciousness like a physical weight.
Yes, the shadows sighed, their voices growing stronger with each step downward. Here we are powerful. Here we can do what must be done.
The deep cells had been designed for a specific purpose—to hold shadow mages who had lost themselves completely to the darkness, who had become so consumed by their power that they posed a threat to everyone around them.
The walls were lined with stone that absorbed and contained magical energy, while the heavy doors were reinforced with bands of metal that had been blessed by our priests to repel shadow magic.
Most of the cells held the remnants of mages who had fallen to the whispers, men and women who had once been respected members of our society but now existed as little more than vessels for malevolent darkness.
Their ravings echoed through the corridors—threats, pleas, fragments of conversations with entities that existed only in their fractured minds.
The sounds followed us as we walked, a constant reminder of what awaited those who lost the battle against their own power.
"The prisoners are being held in the outer cells," Malachar explained as we navigated the maze-like passages. "We didn't want to risk placing them too close to the lost ones—the proximity to so much concentrated shadow magic can affect even those without the gift."
He stopped before a heavy door marked with fresh scratches in the stone—clearly recent additions to mark its temporary use.
"The Imperial soldiers are in here. They've been.
.. cooperative. Answered questions, provided information about their mission.
Either they're telling the truth or they're the best trained liars I've ever encountered. "