The pale moonlight cast elongated shadows across the courtyard as Lord Narant stared in disbelief. "The Girl of Misfortune possesses arcane gifts?" His murmur carried the weight of tectonic revelation.
"This is no mere shift in status," the young lord whispered, fingers tightening around his ceremonial dagger's hilt.
"Shall we dispose of the cursed wench in Wheatleaf Village, milord?" Captain Quake's armor clanked as he gestured toward the trembling girl.
"No!" Narant's command sliced through the night air. His emerald eyes narrowed while studying the malnourished figure.
Baffled rippled through the peasant crowd. Chancellor Anthony's arrival atop a destrier bred for war princes only heightened tensions.
"Your reckless compassion endangers us all!" Anthony's voice dripped venom. "Every moment that abomination breathes, we court calamity!"
The crowd's murmur crescendoed until celestial luminescence silenced them. From Narant's collar emerged a luminous violet sprite, its wings scattering prismatic motes.
"Behold the Arbiter's blessing!" Narant thundered. "While you schemed, I secured our salvation!"
The chancellor's retreating silhouette burned with humiliation. As peasants dispersed awestruck, Narant's gaze lingered on the trembling Girl of Misfortune.
Captain Quake's troubled glance spoke volumes. Yet within the keep's obsidian walls, the violet sprite's glow pulsed in rhythm with ancient stones.