The air in the Headmaster's office was thick enough to choke a lesser man. Despite the catastrophic revelations about the Moon God's bloodline and the Saintess's vision, the negotiation had ground to a stubborn halt.
"Headmaster, you must see reason," Legolas urged, his voice tight with controlled desperation.
"The World Tree Palace is not merely a fortress; it is a sanctuary. Our masters have studied the lunar arts for millennia. We can provide Elena Moonshadow with training that your academy—focused on general combat and human-centric magic—simply cannot replicate."
Hamdal slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair, the wood groaning under his strength. "And that is exactly why she must stay! You speak of sanctuaries and specialized training as if you're raising a prize flower. Protection breeds weakness, Legolas. If she is truly the center of this coming storm, she cannot be a bird in a gilded cage."
