Free Web NovelChapter 19: The Council
The night stretched deep and silent beyond the palace walls. In the distance, the howls of wolves echoed through the trees. Cloaked figures moved through the darkness, beneath that sound, hidden under layers of wild wolves.
They gathered at the forest’s edge, where the moonlight barely touched the earth. A circle of hooded witches waited, their faces hidden by masks stitched from black veils. Their fire burned cold, bluish, strange, feeding off herbs that smoked thick and acrid.
When Eirene arrived, she was unrecognizable. She wore no crown or jewels, only a dark robe covering her head to toe. Her hands trembled as she pulled down her hood. Sweat glistened at her temples despite the chill. The faint green marks creeping along her neck were hard to ignore. Her power was decaying, and she knew it.
One of the witches, the tallest among them, stepped forward. Her voice rasped like dry bark. "You are late, Queen of Lycanthria."
Eirene lowered her head slightly. "The palace watches closely now. I cannot move as freely as I once could."
Another witch laughed softly, the sound sharp as broken glass. "Excuses waste time. We felt the shift in the heavens. The Chosen grows stronger. Her spirit aligns with the Moon. Soon, she will be untouchable. What have you done to stop it?"
Eirene straightened, her tone controlled but desperate underneath. "You asked for the Chosen. I will give her to you. But I want something in return, the throne."
The circle went silent. Only the fire hissed.
The tall witch tilted her head. "You would trade her for a crown?"
"I would trade anything for it," Eirene said. "That throne belongs to my daughter. Not the Moon’s puppet."
A smaller witch stepped forward, voice shrill. "You think to rule while the Moon still breathes through her? You think you can control the heavens?"
Eirene’s eyes hardened. "I have ruled in shadows for years. The gods are no different than men; they bleed when struck right. I do not ask for immortality. I ask for time. Strengthen me again. My flesh rots faster each night. I can feel it."
She raised her hands, showing her palms. The veins beneath her skin had turned faintly green, branching like ink. "Without your aid, I’ll be ash before the full moon."
The tall witch studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. "And in return?"
"I give you the Chosen," Eirene said, her voice firm. "I will make her fall. Her power depends on the bonds she holds, the mates marked by the prophecy. Break one, and her spirit will crumble."
A murmur spread through the coven. One of them asked, "Which bond will you break first?"
Eirene’s mouth curved faintly. "Marek. He is the weakest. He loves her, but he is vain and uncertain. His heart can be bent. He wants to be her savior, but he fears being powerless. That fear will destroy him and her."
The tall witch moved closer, her shadow swallowing the firelight. "And how do you plan to bend him?"
"I want a charm," Eirene said. "A blood charm that ties his will to my daughter’s. Rowena will wear it. It will bind him, make him see her as something more. Once he starts believing it, his bond with the Chosen will fade."
"That is dark magic," another witch warned. "Such a charm drains its bearer."
"Then drain her," Eirene snapped. "I care nothing for the cost. Rowena will do as I say. She wants him; let her bleed for it."
The witches exchanged glances. Then the tall one lifted her hands, muttering a series of low incantations. The fire turned crimson, thick smoke spiraling upward. She drew a curved blade carved with runes from the folds of her robe.
Eirene’s breath caught. She knew the ritual would hurt. She didn’t care.
"Your blood, Queen," the witch said. "Old blood for new control."
Eirene stepped forward and extended her wrist. The blade sliced cleanly, and her blood spilled into a shallow bowl of crushed bones and ash. The witches began to chant. The fire flared again, now burning green.
Something began to take shape from within the bowl. It was metal, dark, and beaming faintly, as if it were alive. Slowly, it twisted into the form of a thin bracelet etched with veins of red light.
When the chanting stopped, the tall witch lifted the bracelet and held it out. "It is done, the Blood Charm. Once your daughter wears this, the man you wish to claim will not see beyond her. But understand this, Eirene, what you tie in blood cannot be untied without death."
Eirene took the bracelet carefully, her fingers trembling slightly. "So be it. Let him die if he must. Once he turns against the Chosen, the rest will crumble."
"Your arrogance is dangerous," the smaller witch said coldly. "The prophecy protects her still. You tamper with divine bonds."
Eirene smiled, thin and bitter. "Then I will make the divine kneel."
She turned to leave, but the tall witch’s voice stopped her. "One more thing. The strength you asked for will come. But it will not last. You will burn faster. You cannot undo what we have done before. When your time ends, your daughter must continue your vow."
Eirene looked back briefly, her eyes hard. "She will. She knows what’s at stake."
And with that, she disappeared into the trees, the bracelet clutched tightly in her hand, the smell of blood and smoke clinging to her robes.
When she returned before dawn, the palace looked peaceful, but she felt the storm waiting to break beneath the calm. Eirene slipped through the servant passages and entered her chamber unnoticed. Rowena was already awake, sitting by the window, her face pale from lack of sleep. freewёbnoνel.com
"You went out again," Rowena said quietly, not looking at her.
Eirene didn’t deny it. She opened a drawer, hiding the bracelet inside a small silver box. "There are things you cannot understand yet."
Rowena frowned. "Mother, what are you doing? You’re scaring me."
Eirene turned to her, her tone soft but sharp underneath. "Do you want to be queen?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then you will do as I say. There is no throne without sacrifice."
Rowena hesitated. "And what about Aveloria? What if she—" freёwebnovel.com
Eirene’s expression hardened. "She was never meant to rule. She was born by mistake, a divine error. The Moon gave her power, not purpose. That throne belongs to you, Rowena. To us. Everything I’ve done has been for you."
She reached out and touched her daughter’s face, her hand cold. "When the time comes, you will wear something I give you. You will not take it off, no matter what you feel. Do you understand?"
Rowena nodded weakly, though confusion flickered in her eyes.
"Good," Eirene said, turning away. "Rest now."
But even as she said it, her hands shook. The witches’ warning echoed in her mind; You will burn faster. She could already feel the faint ache in her bones, the pulse of something dark feeding under her skin. She closed her eyes, steadying her breath.
She didn’t care what it cost. Power always demanded blood.
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That same morning, another gathering occurred deep within the palace, not in darkness but behind closed wooden doors.
The Council of Elders, six men and two women, mostly gray-haired and shrewd-eyed, sat in a circle in the chamber. No guards were posted. They had dismissed even their attendants.
A parchment marked with the royal seal lay at the center of the table. It contained the prophecy, transcribed from the Priestess’s words weeks ago.
Elder Hiram, the oldest, slammed his hand against the table. "Four bonds? Four mates to one woman? This is not destiny, it’s an abomination."
Another elder, with a thinner and sharper voice, replied, "You speak as if you know the will of the Moon. Perhaps this is meant to strengthen the realm."
"Strengthen?" Hiram spat. "It will divide us. Each bonded clan will claim power through her. There will be wars before there is peace. We will lose control of the throne we built."
Elder Varon, known for his cunning, leaned forward. "Perhaps control is already lost. The King listens to that girl more than to us now. We will be relics if she takes the throne with those mates by her side."
"And what do you suggest?" one of the women asked, eyes narrowing.
Varon smiled faintly. "We do what we have always done, guide fate."
There was silence for a moment, then murmurs of agreement.
Another elder, Toben, asked cautiously, "Are you proposing to defy the Priestess?"
Varon shrugged. "We are not defying her. We are correcting her oversight. If the prophecy threatens the kingdom, then it is our duty to act."
Hiram nodded. "And how would you act?"
"We cannot kill the heiress," Varon said, "not without divine wrath. But we can weaken her. The bonds are her strength. If one turns against her, she will falter. If two do, she will fall."
Hiram frowned. "You sound like Eirene."
Varon’s smile deepened. "Eirene is ambitious, yes, but her ambitions may serve us. She will move against the heiress openly. Let her bear the risk. We will remain the loyal council, untouched by the stain of treason."
"And what of the mates?" Toben asked. "They are powerful in their own right. Especially the rogue prince."
"Then let them destroy each other," Varon replied. "Every man who desires the same woman becomes a weapon. We need only aim them right."
A few elders exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued further.
At last, Hiram spoke again. "Then it is decided. We act quietly. We push where the cracks already are. If fate will not choose reason, we will force it."
He reached for his quill and gently signed the parchment’s bottom with slow, deliberate strokes. One by one, the others followed.
The last to sign was Varon. He leaned back, eyes gleaming. "Let the Moon watch if she dares. Even the gods must play by mortal hands."
