She'd asked him to accept the invitation, to reclaim their clan's place not for the Council's sake but for the sake of the elves who'd had nothing to do with ancient betrayals.

For the desert settlements he'd defended. For the possibility of building something better than the cycle of revenge that had consumed his father.

So here he sat, on a throne representing his clan, surrounded by clan leaders who might fear him, might respect him, or might want him dead if they thought they could manage it safely.

Not all of them had been involved in the betrayal, he knew that intellectually.

Kal'tun's, Korreth's—they'd genuinely maintained good bonds with Ser'gu, had been horrified by the betrayal, and had argued against stripping the Sol'vur name from records.

But institutions remembered, even if individuals changed. The Council as a whole bore responsibility for what had been done, and Jorghan wasn't naive enough to think acceptance here meant forgiveness.

He was here because he had to be.

Because the alternative, remaining outside, ungoverned, unpredictable, would eventually force conflict that would hurt the innocents he'd sworn to protect.

But he didn't have to pretend he liked it.

Two thrones remained empty, one across from him and one to his right.

Jorghan was about to ask Sigora who they were waiting for when movement at the chamber's entrance drew every eye.

-

As they were all waiting, in silence, the doors to the other end of the hall opened with a big rumbling noise.

Then a tall figure entered, like power given form.

Madayanti Amasurata stood nine feet tall, not exceptional for her clan, but she carried her height with a presence that made her seem larger. She was clearly the mature version of Yaudheyi, the family resemblance unmistakable in the strong features, the amber eyes, and the way she moved with absolute confidence.

But where Yaudheyi had been impressive, Madayanti was overwhelming.

Her face showed her age, not in weakness or deterioration, but in the refinement that came from centuries of experience. Lines at the corners of her eyes suggested someone who smiled often, but the firm set of her mouth indicated someone who rarely smiled at things that weren't genuinely amusing. Her silver-white hair was bound in an elaborate style that probably took hours to arrange, woven with golden threads that caught the light.

She wore robes, not the ceremonial kind that looked impressive but served no function, but actual combat-styled robes that had clearly seen use. The metal was scarred in places, polished in others, and the way she moved in it suggested weight that would have crushed normal warriors was distributed so perfectly across her frame that it enhanced rather than hindered.

Power incarnate, Jorghan thought.

That's what she is.

Not just strength but authority that had been earned through centuries of leadership, of making hard decisions, of bearing the weight of being the strongest clan's head.

As she entered, every elf in the chamber stood, automatic and respectful, acknowledging her status.

Every elf except two.

Tadrukein remained seated, his scaled face impassive, his posture suggesting he found the entire ceremony mildly tiresome. His vertical pupils tracked Madayanti's approach, but he made no move to stand.

Citrangada also remained in her throne, though her body language was different, not dismissive like the serpent patriarch but simply comfortable, as if standing for anyone wasn't part of her cultural practice.

Jorghan saw Madayanti's eyes flicker to both of them. Her expression didn't change; she was too controlled for that, but something in the set of her shoulders, the slight narrowing of her gaze, suggested disapproval that she chose not to voice.

Politics, Jorghan realized.

The second and third strongest clans are asserting their status by not showing deference to the first. A subtle power play that everyone in the room understood but no one would acknowledge directly.

Madayanti's gaze swept the circle, assessing, and when her eyes landed on Jorghan, he felt the weight of her attention like physical pressure. She studied him for perhaps three seconds, an eternity in that charged silence, and he met her gaze steadily, neither challenging nor submissive.

Finally, she looked at the empty throne to Jorghan's right, and asked, her voice carrying effortlessly through the vast chamber, "Is she not here yet?"

The question was directed at no one specifically, but one of the Arumaks stationed along the wall responded immediately.

"Matriarch Indriyani sent word she would arrive momentarily, Honored Matriarch. Transport difficulties from the eastern territories."

Madayanti's expression suggested what she thought of "transport difficulties" causing delays to a Council gathering, but she said nothing.

Instead, she moved toward her throne, positioned directly opposite the empty seat, making clear the Amasurata's role as primary leadership among equals.

Before she could sit, the chamber entrance opened again.

-

The woman who entered was striking in a completely different way than Madayanti.

Where the Amasurata matriarch was power and presence, this newcomer was elegance and controlled danger.

She stood perhaps eight and a half feet tall, with skin that had a faint bluish tint, suggesting adaptation to either high altitude or aquatic environments.

Her hair was bright blonde, which seemed to shine under the sunlight, and it flowed loose down her back like a liquid shadow.

Her features were sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and a jaw that suggested both beauty and the ability to make ruthless decisions without hesitation. Her eyes were the most striking element—pale blue, almost white, creating a stark contrast with her darker skin that made her gaze seem to pierce through whatever it focused on.

She wore robes, but the fabric moved around her with a weight that suggested protective enchantments woven into every thread. The color was deep indigo, decorated with silver patterns that resembled either stars or perhaps cellular structures, something organic but abstracted.

Indriyani, Matriarch of the Daitvitas clan.

The final piece completes the Council of now Thirteen.

She entered without hurrying, her pace steady and unhurried despite being the last to arrive. Her pale eyes swept the chamber, acknowledging various clan heads with slight nods, before finally settling on Madayanti.

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