The Council Chamber was the oldest room in the upper keep, built from thick black granite blocks that had been dragged up from the riverbeds before the first treaty lines were ever carved into the valley stone. A massive oak table, scarred by decades of dagger points and spilled wax, dominated the center of the space.

When Nila walked through the arched threshold, three paces behind Kaelen, the air was already heavy with the dry, chalky scent of old parchment and the sharp, vinegar tang of archival ink.

Four elders sat on the heavy benches, their thick wool cloaks trimmed with gray fox fur to protect their old bones against...