Chapter 179 Chapter 179

Chapter 179 Chapter 179
Kai’s POV

The meeting hall was louder than it had been in moons.

Dozens of voices rose and fell—agitated, stubborn, full of doubt. Councilmen sat at the long obsidian table, slamming palms, shaking heads, and offering half-thought-out retorts to my proposal. I stood at the head of the table, arms crossed behind my back, jaw locked.

“You want us to walk into the den of vipers and ask for peace?” Councilman Helmar barked. “They’ve already sent spies. They’ve already broken border codes. Why should we show them courtesy?”

“Because war isn’t a game of pride,” I snapped.

Councilman Geras scoffed. “So instead, we serve ourselves on a silver platter?”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

It was exhausting.

I had tried logic. Tried diplomacy. Tried leading them through the benefits of a peaceful overture. But they refused to see beyond their fury—beyond their thirst for vengeance. I couldn’t blame them. The council had seen too much blood in the past few moons.

But still, they weren’t thinking.

I exhaled sharply, biting back the urge to yell.

Until one man said, “You’ve changed since she came.”

I froze.

Councilman Herik. Older. Greying. Once an ally of my father. His gaze met mine, unwavering.

“You used to speak like a soldier. Now you speak like a priest.”

That was it.

My fist slammed against the stone table, silencing the room.

“Enough.”

The word echoed, final and sharp.

I scanned the room, letting my voice rise—not loud, but powerful.

“I went to Darkfire,” I said. “I saw what they’re becoming. I stood in the very court where my mother’s name was spat on. And I’m the one who discovered that one of their councilmen helped orchestrate her death.”

Several of them blinked, startled.

“You think you’re angry?” I demanded. “You think you’re betrayed? Then what should I be? I lost the woman who raised me. I should be the one rallying for blood.”

No one dared speak.

“But I’m not,” I continued, stepping forward. “Because I know what’s at stake. I know what happens when we let fury guide policy. War isn’t a show of strength. It’s the last resort of the desperate.”

I paused, letting the weight of my words settle.

“King Thaddeus is not our enemy. He’s being manipulated—sidelined by his own council. We don’t need to destroy a clan to fix this. We need to reach him. Bring him out. Show him the truth.”

“Assuming he listens,” Ryker murmured, though not unkindly.

“He will,” I said. “If he sees his people risking peace for their own gain, he’ll act. We just need the right setting. A formal approach. An alliance proposal.”

“And what if we’re wrong?” someone asked.

“Then we will have proof,” I said. “And if that time comes—if war is the only choice—we fight with certainty. Not assumptions.”

There was a pause.

The room was still.

And slowly, hands began to rise.

“I’ll go,” said Councilman Eldrin.

“Me too,” another added. “We’ve been waiting too long in fear.”

One by one, more hands went up.

Even Councilman Ryker stood. “I’ve been to Darkfire once before,” he said. “I’ll return. And this time, I’ll look closer.”

When five had volunteered, I nodded. “That’s enough. We’ll prepare an indenture—a diplomatic contract offering trade relations and border rights. One that must be signed by King Thaddeus himself.”

The scribes bowed and left the room to begin the drafting process.

The council slowly dispersed, leaving only Ryker, Rowan, and I behind.

Rowan approached me quietly. “I still think it’s risky.”

“It is.”

“But it’s smart,” he admitted.

Before he could say more, a warrior entered the chamber and bowed. “Alpha, I bring a message from Lord Rowan. The new recruits have completed their trials. They’re mounting patrol at the borders now.”

“Good,” I said. “Double the frequency of their watches. And rotate them every four hours. I want those lands shielded.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The warrior left, and I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.

Everything was moving.

Plans were falling into place.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the weight in my chest.

It didn’t feel like victory.

It felt like we were buying time.

And that time was thinner than any of them realized.

Later that evening, I found myself outside Mira’s old chamber.

I hadn’t intended to come.

My feet had moved on their own.

The door was unlocked.

Dust hadn’t yet settled. Everything was exactly as she’d left it.

The woven blanket she preferred on the edge of the couch. The ceramic bowl of incense. The half-burnt candle near her books.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

The silence was deafening.

I moved to her desk, running my fingers across the parchment she’d scribbled on the week before she left. Her notes, her list of things to fix—plans for the orphanage, the academy, even the winter food banks.

So much heart.

And now she was gone.

I opened her incense drawer and chose the same lavender blend she’d always lit before bed. I sparked the edge and set it in the holder, letting the smoke rise into the dim light.

Then I closed my eyes and whispered.

“I hope you’re safe,” I said. “I hope wherever you are, you’re finding answers.”

I didn’t expect an answer.

But I felt the bond stir faintly—as if she, too, was thinking of me.

Just for a second.

A knock shattered the moment.

I stood up swiftly, brushing my palms against my pants as I moved to the door.

When I opened it, I nearly shut it again.

Serena.

Draped in red, as always. One eyebrow lifted.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

She stepped inside without asking.

“Still pining?” she teased.

“Say what you came to say, Serena,” I said coldly.

She walked over to the incense and sniffed, amused. “Lavender. Mira’s favorite.”

I clenched my fists. “Serena—”

“Relax,” she said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t come to mock you. I came to share a discovery.”

I eyed her warily. “What kind?”

She produced two scrolls from within her cloak.

Tied with twine.

She held them out. “These were found in my chamber. From Mira’s father. Addressed to her.”

I took them, hesitating.

The parchment was real.

The script…

I unrolled the first one and scanned it quickly.

Then the second.

My breath caught.

The words were sharp, cruel—orders laced with threats. Directives. Mentions of a “mission.” A father demanding results. Warning of consequences. Plans Mira had never shared.

My hands trembled.

“This can’t be…”

I looked up at Serena.

And felt the blood drain from my face.