The floating island of the Void-Wood had become a spectacle of cosmic harmony. Below, the people of Westeros looked up to see not just a forest in the sky, but a swirling nursery of Void-Drakes—beasts made of starlight and shadow, diving through the clouds like porpoises in a violet sea.
Kaelen sat on the porch, watching Egg (Lord VI) and Dunk (The Guardian) practice their drills. Dunk was currently trying to figure out how to polish "Singularity-Plate" armor, which tended to absorb the light of the polishing cloth entirely.
The Birth of the Void-Dragoons
With the resurrection of the Targaryen Prince, the military structure of the Council shifted. Thranduil, the Commander of War, saw an opportunity to pair his Void-Legions with Egg's new children.
The Dragoons of the Silence
Thranduil and Egg collaborated to create a new elite force.
The Mounts: Void-Drakes that could "Phase" through solid objects, allowing them to fly through mountains rather than over them.
The Riders: Elven Void-Soldiers who could fire arrows tipped with "Event Horizon" shards.
The Command: They answered to Egg for flight maneuvers and Thranduil for tactical erasure.
"It's a bit much, don't you think?" Ereinion asked, shielding his eyes from the glare of a passing drake. "We've already erased the concept of war. Who are they going to fight?"
"Entropy," Kaelen answered, leaning back in his rocking chair. "And anyone who tries to interrupt my nap."
The Inquisitors' Board Meeting
In the Great Hall, the High Inquisitors were holding their first "Coordination Session." It was a terrifying gathering of wisdom and sass.
Gandalf & Elrond: Working on a map of the Multiverse to ensure no other "Dark Lords" were leaking in.
Galadriel: Using her Mirror to monitor the dreams of the Seven Kingdoms, ensuring everyone was getting enough sleep and fiber.
Olenna Tyrell: Currently tearing into a group of terrified Maesters from Oldtown.
"You call this a 'History of the Long Night'?" Olenna snapped, her voice vibrating with Void-Truth. "It's a collection of fairy tales written by men who couldn't find their own backsides with both hands and a torch. Rewrite it. And make the ink purple. I like purple now."
The Maesters scrambled away, their chains rattling. Olenna looked at Oropher, who was leaning against a pillar with his Inquisitor's staff. "The old man has style," Olenna noted. "A bit stiff, but he knows how to scowl."
The Guardian's Duty
Ser Duncan the Tall had taken his new role with a devotion that bordered on the holy. He stood at the threshold of the Council Chamber, a literal mountain of black metal.
When the High Inquisitor Galadriel tried to enter without announcing herself, Dunk simply stepped into her path.
"Pardon, My Lady," Dunk said, his voice deep and steady. "The Lords are having their 'Cozy Hour.' No one goes in. Not even the Lady of Light."
Galadriel narrowed her eyes, her power flaring. But she found that her Light simply slid off Dunk's armor like water off a duck. He was a Universal Constant. He was the "Thick Wall" of the Void.
Galadriel smiled. "Well chosen, Kaelen. He is indeed unmovable."
The Seventh Lord?
Kaelen watched Lúthien-Ael playing with Egg. They were currently using their combined powers to create "Time-Bubbles" where tiny dragons lived out entire lifetimes in a matter of seconds, evolving into beautiful, shimmering spirits of pure energy.
"The Council is almost complete," Thranduil noted, standing beside Kaelen. "Six Lords. Six pillars of the Silence."
"The Void likes the number seven, Thranduil," Kaelen mused. "But the seventh won't be found in a fire or a forest. The seventh will come when the world truly needs a Bridge."
The Council Hierarchy Power TypeFocusI. KaelenOriginThe ArchitectII. ThranduilDarkThe CommanderIII. EreinionLightThe WeaverIV. LúthienStasisThe KeeperV. FerenAuraThe SentinelVI. EggDragonThe SpeakerGuardian: DunkPhysicalThe Shield
"For now," Kaelen said, standing up and stretching. "I think it's time for dinner. Dunk! Stop staring at the sun and come inside! Ereinion made a roast that's technically been cooking for three hundred years in a time-dilation field. It should be perfectly tender."
As the family gathered, the floating island drifted toward the sunset of Westeros. The world below was quiet, safe, and utterly transformed. The Lords of Silence were home.