The air crackled with unspoken words. Eleanor's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as the weight of Elijah's words settled in. A year. A stolen year that had rewritten their reality, leaving them stranded in a sea of uncertainty.
"A new Elder?" Michael sputtered, his voice laced with disbelief. "But… but that's absurd! Barnaby was…" he trailed off, his gaze flickering towards the imposing figure of the man in question.
Barnaby, the previous Elder, stood by the fireplace, his face stoic, a hint of resignation etched around his eyes. Seraphina, ever the pragmatist, cut through the tension with a sharp scoff.
"While we were off saving the world, it seems someone decided to play a rather permanent game of musical chairs." Her gaze flicked between Elijah and Jacob, a silent accusation hanging in the air.
