Chapter 114
The High Council chamber erupted, voices rising, chairs scraping, foxfire flaring in anxious bursts.
Only one voice cut clean through the chaos: Poppy’s. “Enough.”
Her words struck like a bell, and silence fell.
She looked at Lysandra—not with fear, but with stark, aching understanding.
“Lysandra,” Poppy whispered, “what did it do to you?”
For the first time, Lysandra’s smile faltered. Just for a heartbeat. Then she straightened her spine, crossing her arms with flippant grace.
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “Trauma. Time loops. A little cosmic possession. The usual.”
Poppy reached for her sister’s hand under the table, and this time Lysandra didn’t pull away. Several Councilors exchanged looks, fearful, guilty, secretive, and the Sentinel’s eyes narrowed.
“What does the Court know of the Devouring One that it failed to disclose?” he asked.
The Councilors avoided his gaze.
Poppy’s jaw tightened. “You knew something, and you didn’t warn us?”
One Councilor cleared his throat, voice trembling. “The legends… are ancient. We did not believe—”
“That is not an excuse,” the Sentinel cut in, voice like thunder muffled by velvet. “If they had fallen, the consequences would have reached beyond a moonwell.”
Mingxi’s hand tightened on Poppy’s knee. “We need information. All of it.”
“And protection,” Mingxi added. “For both daughters of the Shen Clan.”
A Councilor bristled. “We did not approve such formal adoption—”
“We don’t need your approval,” Mingxi said coldly.
The Sentinel nodded. “Agreed.”
The room erupted in outrage, and the Sentinel ignored all of them.
Poppy leaned forward. “My sister and I will not be treated as pawns,” she said. “If you want our cooperation, you will give us truth in return.”
The Sentinel placed a hand flat on the table, quiet, commanding. “Then let us begin with truth,” he said. “And with the Court’s acknowledgment that these two women saved more than they endangered.”
He looked at Lysandra. “And that the next Councilor who suggests detaining her will answer to me first.”
Lysandra giggled. “Poppy, can we keep him?”
“No,” Poppy whispered.
“A tragedy,” he murmured.
The room stiffened. Councilor Rowena was the one who exhaled first, softly, almost sorrowfully. When she spoke, it was not with fear but with the weight of her integrity.
“I will share what I know,” Rowena said. “Though I warn you, my knowledge is incomplete. I was never told more than fragments.”
She looked at Poppy and Lysandra, directly, compassionately. “If I had known the truth, I would have spoken it.”
Her words landed like a stone dropped into a still pool.
Several Councilors shifted uncomfortably.
The oldest among them cleared his throat. “We… guarded certain records. For safety. To prevent panic.”
Rowena’s gaze sharpened like a drawn blade, and her voice was low, dangerous. “Safety? You call this safety?
“You let two children stand before a primordial being without context. Without warning. Without defense.”
Silence cracked through the room. Since the guilt had been named, the elders could not hide behind it.
Rowena turned back to the sisters, her voice softening again. “In witch lore, it was called The Devouring One.”
Another Councilor added shakily, “Our ancestors used a different name: 无限之枯—the Infinite Withering.”
A fae-blood whispered, “The Hollow Lord…”
A selkie lowered her eyes and said, “The Silent Hunger.”
A dragon envoy bowed his head. “Eater of Light.”
From the back of the room came another reply. “The First Silence.”
Poppy’s breath caught. “These are all… the same?”
Lysandra nodded, strangely gentle as she said, “Primordials don’t have one face. They wear whatever your people fear most.”
The Sentinel’s stare cut across the High Council like frost. “You knew enough to fear it.”
One Councilor attempted, “These were only myths—”
“Myths are truths we were too afraid to face,” Rowena said coldly.
Her disappointment was more devastating than anger.
Poppy spoke hesitantly. “We called it the entity because we didn’t know what it was.”
Lysandra placed her hand over Poppy’s. “You named it with the knowledge you had. That was enough.”
Another elder whispered the last forbidden name, “??a?r’uun… the Hunger Beneath All Things.”
The lanterns flickered violently.
Rowena’s jaw tightened, not in guilt, but in resolve. “Whether you hid the truth out of fear, pride, or shame,” she said quietly, “it ends here. These girls deserve full knowledge—and full protection.”
The Sentinel nodded. “Mingxi and I will see to that.”
As ancient names echoed through the chamber, Poppy and Lysandra exchanged a single look: This wasn’t over.
They would not face it alone.
Not by a long shot.
The hearing ended on a breath the entire room seemed relieved to exhale. Councilors scattered like startled quail the moment the Sentinel dismissed them, each muttering frantically about archives and sealed scrolls and “reevaluating threat classifications.”
When the last robe vanished through the side doors, the Sentinel turned to Poppy, Mingxi, and Lysandra. “You handled yourselves well,” he said, voice steady once more. “Better than most warriors I’ve seen in these halls.”
Poppy let out a long, shaking breath since the tension had eased. “I didn’t come here to fight the Court.”
“You didn’t,” he replied. “You stood your ground. There’s a difference.”
Lysandra stretched her back like she’d just finished a moderately unpleasant yoga session. “Well, I came here to fight the Court, and frankly, I’m disappointed no one threw anything at us.”
The Sentinel looked at her, and he didn’t seem irritated, just… resigned—a man who had once commanded armies, realizing that no battlefield prepared him for Lysandra Sinclair.
“You will be returning to Huǒyáo Jìng immediately,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion. “The Court has no further claim on you. If they require information, they will go through me.”
Poppy blinked. “That’s… generous.”
“It’s logical,” he corrected. “You’re safer there. And your sister’s visions are of more use interpreted in a controlled environment, not interrogated by frightened bureaucrats.”
Lysandra nodded vigorously. “Exactly. I need snacks, privacy, and at least six hours of sleep before the next apocalypse.”
The Sentinel didn’t crack a smile, but his eyes warmed a fraction.
Poppy sensed an uncomplicated, comradely respect.
“Travel safely,” he said. “And if the Court sends summons again without my authorization—”
Mingxi finished dryly, “You’ll handle it.”
“I will,” the Sentinel replied.
There was no fanfare. No lingering looks. No threads connecting him to Lysandra. Only an alliance built on mutual recognition of competence—and Mingxi’s history at his side.
The moment the doors closed behind him, Lysandra exhaled loudly. “Well,” she said, “that went better than expected and worse than hoped.”
Poppy rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m exhausted.”
Mingxi slipped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her gently toward the exit. “Then let’s go home.”
They made their way back through the austere halls, guards bowing as they passed—not out of fear, but respect. Poppy held Lysandra’s hand the entire way, not letting go once.
Outside, the air was cool and bright with the dawn’s light, and the carriage waited.
Lysandra climbed in first, declaring, “Dibs on lying dramatically across the seat.”
“No,” Poppy said.
Lysandra flopped down dramatically anyway.
Mingxi helped Poppy up, settling beside her as the carriage eased into motion. His hand found hers without thought.
“You were extraordinary,” he said quietly.
“I was angry.”
“You were right,” he corrected. “And that’s rarer in these halls.”
Poppy leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we offended them?”
“Several,” he said. “Irreparably.”
She huffed a tired laugh.
Lysandra piped up from her reclined sprawl, “If they try to summon us again, I’m bringing snacks and a water bucket to throw at anyone who talks down to Poppy.”
“That’s not helping,” Poppy said.
“It helps me.”