Chapter 90 The Night of Knives

Chapter 90 The Night of Knives

The scream echoed through the council chamber.

For one terrible second, no one moved. Darkness swallowed the room as the enchanted lights died all at once. Elara heard chairs scrape across stone, hurried footsteps, frightened breathing. Somewhere nearby, a body hit the floor. Then another scream, shorter this time, cut off abruptly.

“Stay where you are!” someone shouted.

The order was ignored. Councilors rushed toward the exits. Others drew weapons. Spells cracked through the dark, blue sparks flashing briefly before vanishing. Someone was crying. Someone else was praying.

Elara reached for her power. Silver fire ignited around her hand and lit the chamber enough to show the truth.

A councilor lay dead beside the central table, a knife protruding from his throat, blood pooling beneath him. The killer was already gone.

Chaos erupted. Cael moved instantly, stepping in front of Elara, eyes scanning every shadow. “Stay behind me.”

Elara ignored him. Her gaze fixed on the dead man. He’d been one of the loudest voices accusing her moments ago. One of the councilors who had voted against her.

Someone wanted him silenced. Someone wanted the conspiracy buried. And they were willing to kill in front of everyone to do it.

The realization turned her blood cold. The messenger had died to expose a secret. Now people were dying to keep it hidden.

The chamber doors finally opened.

Guards flooded inside. Too late. The killer had vanished. The remaining councilors were shaken and terrified. Several demanded protection. Others demanded arrests. Arguments broke out immediately.

“This is Elara’s doing!”

“No, this is Mira’s faction!”

“The council has been compromised!”

“We need martial law!”

Every voice rose louder than the last. Then a guard pushed forward with a small leather book.

“We found this beside the messenger.”

Instant silence.

The book looked ordinary. Elara knew instantly that it wasn’t. This was the list, the evidence the dying messenger had mentioned. Every eye locked onto it. The room felt smaller, more dangerous, because everyone understood the same thing: whoever controlled that book controlled the future of the witch world.

The guard handed it to Elara. Before anyone could object, she opened it.

Names filled the pages. Dozens of them. Councilors. Military commanders. Coven leaders. People from every faction, every district, every level of power. Beside each name were numbers, payment records, bribes, dates, secret meetings. Proof.

The room exploded. Councilors shouted accusations. Several tried to leave. One lunged for the book. Cael stopped him before he got close.

The truth had surfaced. And it was worse than anyone imagined.

Three names changed everything.

Elara found them halfway through the book. The first belonged to a senior military commander. The second to a respected council elder. The third stopped her heart.

Alder.

One of her closest allies. One of the people who had stood beside her from the beginning. One of the few she still trusted.

The chamber blurred. No. That couldn’t be right. Alder had fought beside her. Protected her. Supported her. Yet his name sat clearly on the page, with payment records spanning months.

Elara looked up slowly. Alder stood across the room, face pale. He knew she’d seen it. For several seconds neither spoke. The silence between them was unbearable.

Then Alder shook his head. “Elara.” His voice cracked. “It’s not what you think.”

Nobody believed those words anymore. Not after everything. Not after so many betrayals.

Elara stared at him. “Tell me why your name is here.”

Alder opened his mouth. Nothing came out. That silence answered more than any explanation could.

The disappointment hit harder than anger. Another ally. Another betrayal. Another person she’d trusted.

By morning, the news had spread across every district.

The council was corrupted. Councilors had accepted bribes. Leaders had sold information. The witch world erupted into outrage. Protests filled the streets. Faction banners appeared everywhere. The divisions became official: Team Elara. Team Mira. Team Varron. Neutral covens disappeared. Everyone chose sides now.

Exactly as Elara feared. Exactly as Mira wanted.

Civil war was no longer a possibility. It was becoming reality.

Inside her fortress, Elara stood over a giant map. Red markers covered more territory than before. Mira’s influence grew rapidly, too rapidly. Messengers arrived one after another: Mira gained three more covens. Two military companies defected overnight. District Nine refused to recognize Elara’s authority.

The situation worsened by the hour. Every betrayal created uncertainty. Every uncertainty created fear. And fear drove people into Mira’s arms.

Elara understood the strategy now. Mira wasn’t winning battles. She was winning belief. That was far more dangerous.

That evening, Cael found Elara alone in the war chamber.

She hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. Had barely spoken. The map remained spread across the table, dozens of names marked for investigation, possible traitors, possible allies, possible enemies. The lines between them had become impossible to see.

Cael approached quietly. “You need rest.”

“No.”

“You need to think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly.”

His jaw tightened. “No. You’re thinking like someone preparing to burn the entire kingdom down.”

Elara laughed bitterly. “Maybe that’s what’s needed.”

The words surprised both of them. Silence followed. Cael stared at her. “Don’t become what they’re accusing you of.”

Something dangerous flashed through her eyes. “What if they’re forcing me to?”

The question hung heavy between them. Cael had no answer.

Elara stepped closer. “Every day another ally betrays me. Every day another coven abandons me. Every day Mira gains more power.” She looked exhausted, angry and hurt. “I can’t keep playing by rules nobody else follows.”

Cael understood then. The real danger wasn’t Mira. It wasn’t Varron. It wasn’t the council. The real danger was what this war was turning Elara into and that frightened him.

Meanwhile, Mira stood before nearly fifty coven leaders.

The largest faction meeting in modern history. Her influence had doubled within weeks. More banners filled the hall. More supporters. More power. She addressed the assembly with complete confidence.

“The council is collapsing.” Cheers erupted.

“Elara’s allies are betraying her.” More cheers.

“Her faction is weakening.” The crowd loved every word.

Mira smiled. Everything was happening exactly as planned. Then she raised a hand and the room quieted instantly.

“There is one final obstacle.” Everyone knew who she meant. Cael.

The room tensed. Mira’s eyes darkened. “As long as he stands beside her, some covens will never abandon her.”

A leader frowned. “What do you intend to do?”

Mira’s smile turned slow and dangerous. “I intend to separate them.”

Silence followed. Everyone understood what that meant. If Elara and Cael turned against each other, her faction might collapse overnight. And Mira clearly intended to make that happen, no matter the cost.

Near midnight, a cloaked figure arrived at Elara’s fortress.

The guards nearly killed him before realizing he carried no weapon, only a sealed letter. The messenger demanded it be given directly to Elara. No one else. No exceptions.

Minutes later, Elara broke the seal. A single page unfolded inside. She read the first line and froze. Her face lost all color.

Cael noticed immediately. “What is it?”

Elara didn’t answer. She kept reading. Every line seemed worse than the last. Finally she handed him the letter.

Cael read it. His expression shifted from shock to disbelief to rage, then settled into silence. The letter contained proof: someone had secretly met Mira multiple times. Someone had been feeding her information for months. One of Elara’s most trusted people was working against her.

At the bottom of the page sat a single name. A name neither of them wanted to see. A name capable of destroying everything. A name that would shatter Elara’s faction from the inside.

Cael looked up slowly. Elara’s hands were trembling. Neither spoke. Neither needed to because they both understood the same horrifying truth: if the letter was genuine, then the next betrayal would be the one that finally broke them.