Matron Kyra's POV
The council chamber lay shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by the pale blue flames flickering within the stone sconces. Beyond the thick walls, the distant echo of battle horns and clashing steel served as a grim reminder of the chaos unfolding outside. Yet Matron Kyra had summoned them here, and despite their reluctance, each councilor had answered her call.
Kenny Garett's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a sharpened blade. "What madness is this, Matron? Calling us here while the tide rages? Our warriors bleed on the battlements, and you believe we have time for idle discourse?"
His silver beard quivered with indignation as he pressed forward against the table.
Sister Vera crossed her arms, her disapproval evident. "This borders on recklessness, Kyra. The third night brings the fiercest assault. Every capable leader belongs at the walls, not trapped in this stone tomb."
