Chapter One Hundred & Twenty Three

Chapter One Hundred & Twenty Three
Nora's P.O.V

“Yep,” I said. “That’s me.”

I took a step closer, my boots echoing in the silence, green light still flickering faintly in my eyes.

“But I’ve got a name,” I added.

I stopped just short of the table, meeting his gaze head-on.

“I’m Nora,” I said calmly. “Nice to meet you.”

Then I turned, slow and deliberate, letting the room follow my movement instead of forcing it.

My gaze landed on the line of men behind me.

“My people,” I said, voice steady, leaving no room for confusion.

I tilted my head slightly toward Leo first.

“That one,” I added, a faint edge of something sharp in my tone, “the vampire—that’s Leo.”

I didn’t need to say more.

His presence spoke for itself.

Then I shifted, my eyes sliding to Killian.

“And this,” I continued, stepping just slightly to the side so they could see him clearly, “is Killian.”

A beat.

“You know him,” I said, letting it settle. “Or at least—you did.”

Killian didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

He didn’t need to.

“You used him,” I went on, my voice cooling, sharpening with every word, “to try and find me once before.”

My gaze locked back onto the man at the table.

“It didn’t work then,” I said.

A step closer.

“So why,” I added quietly, dangerously, “would you think it would work now?”

The man at the far end stood, slower than the others had dared.

“Nora,” he said, steady despite everything in the room. “My name is Alias—”

“Enough,” the man at the center snapped, cutting him off. “Sit down.”

I tilted my head, unimpressed.

“Well that’s rude,” I said lightly.

The fire moved before anyone could react—snapping around the man at the center, sealing over his mouth, locking his jaw in place. Not burning. Not yet.

Just silencing him.

His eyes flared with anger.

Too bad.

I didn’t even spare him another glance.

“Nice to meet you, Alias,” I said, shifting my attention back to the man who had spoken.

A woman stood next, composed but cautious. “Elenor,” she said.

Then another—young. Too young for the weight sitting on his shoulders.

“Marcus.”

My gaze lingered on him longer than the others.

“You look my age,” I said, stepping closer, studying him like I was trying to understand how he’d ended up here. “And yet you sit at the head of the Order.”

A pause.

“Why?”

He didn’t flinch.

“My father recently passed,” he said. “I was next in line.”

I let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

“Generations,” I said.

My eyes swept the table again.

“Great.”

The word held no warmth.

I straightened slightly, the green in my eyes steady, controlled.

“Well,” I continued, voice sharpening, final, “that ends today.”

The room stilled again.

“After this,” I said, “there is no more Order. No more councils deciding what lives and what doesn’t. No more trying to control or dismantle things you were never meant to understand.”

The fire around the guards pulsed once—subtle, but enough to remind everyone exactly who was holding the line now.

“Supernaturals are no longer your concern.”

Marcus held my gaze.

“If there is no Order,” he said carefully, “there will be war. Between them. Between all of them.”

A small smile pulled at my mouth.

Not kind.

“Humans were never meant to control supernaturals,” I said. “That’s your first mistake.”

I took another step forward, closing the distance between us.

“If you want order,” I continued, my voice lower now, but heavier, “then it needs to come from those who actually live in that world.”

My eyes flicked briefly to Leo.

Then back.

“Not from observers sitting behind a table.”

I looked at Marcus directly.

“So if you’re worried about balance,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “then your table changes.”

A beat.

“Because going forward,” I finished, “if there’s going to be a council—there’s one representative from each faction sitting at it.”

Silence.

Not argument.

Something else.

Because what I was offering—

Wasn’t chaos.

It was control.

Just not theirs anymore.

I turned slightly, my attention shifting back to Alias.

“Does this one have a son or a daughter?” I asked, nodding toward the man still encased in my fire—silent, furious, powerless.

Alias hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “A son,” he said carefully. “But he wants nothing to do with this.”

I smiled.

“Great.”

My fingers flexed.

The fire tightened—just once—then burned clean and fast. No struggle. No sound. Just ash where he’d stood.

Gone.

I didn’t even look at what was left.

Instead, I turned back to the three still standing—Alias, Elenor, and Marcus.

The room felt different now.

Lighter.

Like something rotten had just been cut out.

“So,” I said, calm again, like we hadn’t just crossed a line they’d never come back from, “how do you feel about keeping order…”

I stepped closer to the table, resting my hand lightly against the edge, the faint glow of green still flickering under my skin.

“…but doing it the correct way.”

My gaze moved between them.

“Because what you had?” I continued. “That wasn’t balance. That was control built on fear and ignorance.”

A beat.

“This?” I added, glancing briefly around the room—the kneeling guards, the silence, the shift in power, “this is the reset.”

Marcus didn’t look away.

Elenor’s posture had changed—less rigid, more aware.

Alias studied me like he was finally seeing what they’d been chasing.

I tilted my head slightly.

“So I’ll ask once,” I said. “Do you adapt…”

A faint flicker of green fire curled at my fingertips.

“…or do you end up just like the rest of them?”

The three of them didn’t hesitate.

Alias, Elenor, and Marcus stepped forward in unison, moving out from behind the table like the line between “them” and “me” no longer existed. They stopped a few feet in front of me—

And dropped to one knee.

Not forced.

Chosen.

The room shifted with it.

The last of the resistance broke.

I held their gaze for a second longer, measuring, making sure it wasn’t fear driving it—but understanding.

Then I nodded once.

“Stand.”

The fire around the room eased, the green glow dimming as I pulled it back in, letting it settle under my skin where it belonged. The guards remained where they were, still kneeling, still waiting—but no longer bound.

Killian stepped forward beside me, his presence cutting clean through the moment, all business.

“Are there more of you?” he asked, voice sharp, direct.

Marcus was the one who answered.

“Yes,” he said, rising to his feet. “But not like this.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

Elenor stepped in slightly. “What you see here—this was the core council. The ones who made decisions. Directed operations.”

Alias added, “There are operatives. Cells. People who carried out orders… but they don’t hold power.”

I watched them closely.

“And how many?” I asked.

Marcus exhaled once. “Enough that if they scatter without direction, it becomes a problem.”

Killian glanced at me, then back to them. “Locations.”

Alias nodded. “We can give you everything.”

“Good,” Killian said.

I stepped forward again, reclaiming the center of the room without effort.

All three of them looked at me.