Chapter 25
Amassive, weathered table dominated the Essenheim council chamber, its scarred surface buried beneath maps, treaties, and the restless hands of advisors.
The ministers had arranged their chairs to prioritize proximity to the decision-makers over formal rank, sitting in tense silence or murmuring over urgent reports.
Compared to the sprawling ballroom, this chamber was suffocating.
Its stone walls seemed to press inward, the air turning dense, as if the room itself bore the crushing weight of the impending conflicts.
Imani entered unannounced. At a flick of her Drasil wand, the heavy wooden doors slammed shut with blunt finality.
Her chair stood at the narrow head of the table, near the tall hearth.
Ellisar’s seat was positioned immediately to her right—close enough to project a unified front without casting him as a secondary ruler.
To her left sat Esa, slightly withdrawn from the table’s edge so the First Witch could observe the entire room without being swallowed by it.
Conversations died mid-sentence. Chairs scraped loudly against the stone floor as the council rose in unison. Their eyes locked onto her, calculating, assessing exactly how she would lead after her recent displays of magic and force.
Imani strode across the stone floor and claimed her seat, waiting for no one’s invitation.
Beneath the table, her fingers trembled slightly.
She pressed them flat against her thighs to steady herself, then locked eyes with each advisor in turn.
She let the silence stretch, establishing her authority before she spoke.
Once the weight of her presence had fully settled over the room, she gave a curt nod. “Sit.”
They obeyed. Imani fought a private smile at the rightness settling deep in her bones.
“Our realm is buckling, and time is a luxury we no longer possess,” she began, tapping a finger against the wood. “I want clarity, not speculation. We will define the threats, establish a response, and leave this chamber with a strategy.”
The advisors exchanged cautious glances before launching into their reports.
They spoke in clipped, precise tones of border villages under siege, patrols tracking suspicious movements, and rumors of gathering armies.
Yet even as they addressed the table, their eyes kept darting back to Imani, searching for any crack in her confidence.
“I don’t think we should proceed with any of this until a more pressing matter is resolved.” Esa’s harsh tone sliced through the rising din.
Several advisors leaned forward as the First Witch looked directly at Imani. “This concerns the crown, the succession, and information I hold as your First Witch.” The Sprite rolled her wand between her fingers. “The room needs to be cleared.”
Indignant questions erupted. One advisor slammed a fist on the table. “Your Majesty, if this concerns the succession—”
“It concerns information you do not yet need,” Esa interrupted smoothly. “And I will not broadcast magical vulnerabilities to an entire council simply to satisfy your curiosity.”
The objection died on the man’s tongue.
Imani studied her friend. Esa had never invoked her title that way before, but Imani understood the silent plea meant she needed to listen.
“Everyone out,” Imani ordered.
A stunned pause followed. “Your Majesty—”
“You heard the First Witch.” Imani rested both hands on the table. “Leave us.”
Chairs scraped in reluctant obedience. A few muttered under their breath as they filed out, but none dared challenge her.
Within moments, only Imani, Esa, and Ellisar remained.
Imani waited until the heavy doors clicked shut behind the final councilman.
“Now, tell me why you just emptied my council chamber.”
“Because we cannot proceed until we address your sister.” Esa crossed her arms. “You can prepare for war all you like, but if the throne isn’t secure, none of these strategies will matter.”
“I’m aware,” Imani replied. “But we aren’t delaying our defenses for it.”
“Meira is alive. With her still breathing, there isn’t just one queen.
” Esa looked between Imani and Ellisar. “There are two, and the bond between you two doesn’t seem merely symbolic.
To me, it looks like an active current of shared magic.
The throne is divided. Ignoring that complication only gives it time to mutate into a crisis. ”
Ellisar’s gaze snapped to Imani. “You knew this?”
“I found out yesterday that the crown had duplicated between my sister and me, but I don’t know what it means.”
“We still don’t entirely know,” Esa said.
“But we know enough that we cannot build a war strategy without accounting for it. The old theory states that the king and queen of each realm are ultimately paired through a heartmate bond. The crown, succession, and mate are meant to reinforce the monarchy.”
Ellisar rubbed his chin. “And now there are two queens.”
“Yes, two women carrying authentic monarch magic,” Esa corrected. “If the old theory holds any truth, two queens raise an obvious, terrifying question about the other half of the pairing.”
Imani forgot to breathe.
“If there are two Essenheim queens, there could be two Niflheim kings,” Ellisar murmured.
“Possibly.” Esa rolled her wand again. “Kiran had brothers. He slaughtered most of them to take Niflheim, but royal blood doesn’t vanish just because one brother wears a crown. If another survived, there could be a second legitimate contender.”
“That is a great many ifs,” Imani noted.
“Exactly,” Esa said. “This is a theory built from anomalies, not proof. But there are enough of them now that we would be fools not to investigate.”
Imani leaned back in her chair. She had no intention of treating a legend as fact, but if someone existed with a genuine claim against Kiran’s throne, she wanted to find him before Kiran did. A rival king could be a weapon against Niflheim.
“Since you and Kiran are fated, Meira’s heartmate could be the other king,” Esa continued.
Imani tapped her fingers against the table. If Kiran’s position wasn’t secure, some of his increasingly aggressive attempts to consolidate power made more sense.
Ellisar shifted in his seat, his expression guarded. “The council hears nothing of this development.”
“Agreed,” Imani said instantly.
“Good,” Esa replied. “Because that isn’t all. You’re both acting as if this begins and ends with Kiran. It doesn’t. The Source is in flux.”
Imani reeled back. “Esa. We discussed waiting.”
“I know.” Esa held up a hand. “But the Source is the living heart of all magic across every realm. If that core is unstable, it affects boundaries, states, and transitions. The slips between realms are symptoms. A misaligned Source could cause fractured bonds and unstable crowns. They may be the exact same problem.”
Hearing the theory spoken aloud deepened the icy unease pooling in Imani’s gut, knowing the very Fabric connecting the realms was unraveling.
“How certain are you about this Source even existing?” Ellisar asked.
“I’m not,” Esa admitted. “That’s the problem. If we want answers about the Source, we’ll eventually have to go below. To the Under. My brother had been studying this theory before he died.”
Ellisar gave her a skeptical look. “You intend to speak to a dead man?”
“Yes. I intend to find out what he knew before we gamble every realm on a guess. But not yet. I know we have immediate problems in the living world first.”
Imani studied her closest allies. “This stays here. The council gets what it needs to defend Essenheim, but nothing more. And we do not chase answers in the Under until we have dealt with the threat in front of us.”
Esa gave her a satisfied nod, and Imani reached for the brass bell on the table and rang it. “Bring them back.”
The advisors had barely reclaimed their seats when a sharp knock shattered the returning murmurs. The heavy doors swung open, revealing a breathless page.
“Your Majesty,” the messenger gasped, bowing low. “King Kiran of Niflheim has issued a formal summons. He calls for a parley among the ruling powers of Niflheim and Essenheim to be held in his court. He presents it as a summit to address the threat of war and the increasing slips between realms.”
The room erupted.
“A parley in his court?” an advisor spat. “That’s not diplomacy. That’s a hostage situation.”
“It’s bait,” another argued. “He gathers us on his terms. Nothing is safe about that.”
“Yes, it’s a trap,” Imani agreed, her voice slicing over the fray. She leaned forward, pinning the room with her stare. “He controls the ground and the terms, gathering every power he needs under the guise of stability. But I know Kiran, and we need to attend this meeting. ”
When a few faces registered doubt, she gave the room a pointed look. “As his heartmate, he will use this to draw me back under his control, and knowing that means we have the upper hand.”
An older councilman gave a humorless scoff. “That hardly sounds like a strategic advantage for us.”
Still tapping her fingers, Imani narrowed her eyes at him. He had served under Tanyl long enough that deep lines of age framed his mouth, though apparently without imparting the wisdom to keep it closed.
He gestured toward her. “You admit the Niflheim king can influence you through this bond. You admit he desires you near him. Yet we are meant to trust your judgment about walking willingly into his court?”
Imani sat straighter. “You are meant to trust that I understand him better than anyone sitting at this table.”
“That is precisely the problem.” The councilman leaned back, his insult thinly veiled as concern.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but you reclaimed the throne yesterday. You have spent more time as Kiran’s heartmate than as Essenheim’s queen.
If your connection to him is as volatile as you claim, perhaps decisions concerning Niflheim should be made by those less… personally compromised.”
The screech of Ellisar’s chair cut across the stone chamber as he rose beside Imani.