"I look like you dressed me," Jorghan countered with a smile.

"Which means you look perfect."

She kissed him quickly, then moved to finish her own preparations, transforming from a relaxed, loving aunt to a dignified clan leader in what seemed like moments.

When they were both ready, they made their way down to the main lobby, where the two Arumaks waited with the same patient stillness they'd shown before.

"Lady Sigora. Lord Jorghan," one of them said—the honorific making Jorghan's eyebrows rise slightly; he still wasn't used to being addressed as "lord" anything.

"Please follow us. The transport awaits."

-

They exited the Highrest Quarter building to find a vessel waiting that made Jorghan stop in his tracks.

It was massive, easily large enough to accommodate elves of all sizes, from the smallest mountain clan members to the tallest forest dwellers. The design was sleek and organic, shaped like a hummingbird in flight, with smooth curves and a pearlescent hull that seemed to shift colors as the light hit it from different angles.

The "wings" were actually propulsion systems that hummed with barely audible energy, keeping the craft hovering a few feet above the landing platform.

A boarding ramp extended downward, and through the transparent sections of the hull, Jorghan could see a luxurious interior, comfortable seating, decorative elements, and space designed not just for transport but for dignified travel befitting clan leadership.

"The Swiftcurrent," one of the Arumaks announced.

"One of twelve ceremonial vessels maintained specifically for Council gatherings.

Please board."

They ascended the ramp into an interior that exceeded even Jorghan's elevated expectations. The seating was arranged in a circular pattern, allowing all passengers to face each other, promoting conversation and interaction rather than isolated travel. The materials were rich but not ostentatious: fine wood, soft fabrics, and subtle lighting that created an atmosphere of calm elegance.

Sigora settled into one of the seats with practiced ease, and Jorghan took the place beside her, his eyes still cataloging every detail of the craft's construction.

He didn't expect that elves had such advanced technology in their hands. The vessel seemed far more sophisticated than human ones.

They have a very interesting way of merging magic with mechanical.

The Arumaks took positions at the front, one apparently piloting, the other monitoring systems.

And with a gentle lurch, the Swiftcurrent lifted higher and began moving.

The flight was smooth, almost eerily so given their speed. Through the transparent sections, Jorghan watched Dewura'tt pass beneath them, the city he'd only seen portions of the previous day now revealed in its entirety.

The scale was breathtaking.

Thousands of buildings, millions of inhabitants, and infrastructure that had supported civilization for millennia.

They rose higher, climbing toward the mountain's summit, and ahead Jorghan saw their destination.

The Eldraven Hall, the place where the clans would meet now.

It was circular, a massive disc-shaped structure that seemed to grow from the cliff face rather than simply being attached to it. The building had to be at least a quarter mile in diameter, with multiple visible floors through crystal-clear windows. The architecture echoed the aesthetic of the city below but was refined to its highest expression, every line perfect, every proportion calculated to create both beauty and function.

The most striking element was its position.

The Hall extended out over the abyss, supported by what looked like impossibly slender pillars but were probably reinforced with magic and engineering that made them far stronger than their appearance suggested.

Standing in that Hall, you'd be suspended over nothing, with only ancient craftsmanship between you and a fall that would never end.

The Swiftcurrent approached a landing platform that extended from the Hall's main entrance—a space large enough to accommodate dozens of vessels simultaneously. Several other crafts were already docked, each one unique, clearly representing different clans with different aesthetic preferences.

As they descended, Jorghan noticed other arrivals, elves disembarking from their own transports, moving toward the Hall's entrance with the measured dignity befitting the occasion.

The Swiftcurrent touched down with barely a whisper of contact, and the boarding ramp extended automatically.

"We have arrived," the Arumak pilot announced.

"The Council will convene within the hour. May your words carry wisdom and your presence bring honor to your clan."

It was clearly a formal blessing, something the Arumaks said to all arriving clan heads.

But the genuine warmth in the mechanical voice made it feel personal rather than rote.

They disembarked into organized chaos, with clan leaders and their companions arriving, greetings being exchanged, and last-minute preparations being made. The energy was palpable, anticipation mixed with the weight of ceremony.

"Sigora!"

They turned to see Patriarch Kal'tun of the Nuwe'rak clan approaching, his massive eight-and-a-half-foot frame making him distinctive even among the tall elf population.

Beside him walked Patriarch Korreth of the Nor'vack clan, his expression far more subdued than Jorghan remembered from their previous interactions.

"Kal'tun, Korreth," Sigora greeted them warmly.

"Safe travels?"

"Uneventful, which is the best kind," Kal'tun replied with a booming laugh.

He turned to Jorghan, and his expression became more serious.

"Jorghan Sol'vur. I wanted to speak with you before the ceremony to say—" he paused, choosing words carefully, "—that you have my full support in the meeting. You have to brace yourselves."

Korreth stepped forward, his earlier arrogance completely absent.

"And mine as well. I questioned your worthiness and challenged your place among us. I was wrong. Profoundly wrong. Whatever the Nor'vack clan can do to support the Sol'vur in the future, you need only ask."

Jorghan just nodded and replied, "Thank you. Both of you. Your support means more than—"

A sound interrupted them, not quite a roar, not quite a cry, but something otherworldly that made every elf on the platform turn to look skyward.

-

Descending toward the platform was a creature that shouldn't exist.

It was the size of a large horse but built more like a great cat—powerful hindquarters, graceful forequarters, and a noble head held high. Its fur was white, not the off-white or cream of natural animals, but white like fresh porcelain, so pure it almost seemed to glow against the sky.

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