The wind cut through the air of Elandor, carrying with it the restless whispers of the fairies. The desolate fields and withered trees mirrored the kingdom's state of mind. Elysiel, her hands tightly gripping her mantle, walked toward the council hall. She knew this meeting would be decisive. The trust of her people was in tatters, and the darkness she still carried within her only served to fuel suspicion and fear.
As she approached the grand hall, she could hear the muffled murmurs from within. The fairies of Elandor were beginning to distance themselves from her. The connection with Seraphis, though technically severed, had left deep marks, visible to all. She knew her leadership was at risk. And worst of all, she herself was beginning to doubt her ability to protect the kingdom.
