Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

She led them to one of the living towers in the center of the camp—a colossal tree with roots that formed spiral staircases, with suspended floors intertwined in broad branches. As they climbed, whispers spread through the camp like fire on dry leaves.

Kael approached Exelia as they walked:

"Are you sure she won't sell us out too?"

Exelia smiled wearily. "She defended me against the Council when I was nine. She broke a ceremonial staff over an archmage's head. Liora has only one problem: she never learned to be afraid."

"I like her more and more."

At the top of the tower, the steps ended in a circular platform carved directly into the trunk of the mother tree. There, magical petals floated in the air like fragrant ashes, and a meeting table made of amber and living root dominated the space. Three elders were already waiting for them.

Old, but not frail. Their presence filled the room like ancient columns supporting a temple. One of them was blind, but his white eyes glowed with ancient magic. Another looked as if he were made of living bark, with lichen growing on his face. The third had skin as dark as wet earth and a long beard braided with owl feathers.

Liora did not wait for formalities. "Let's get straight to the point."

"You attacked the Brigade Commander, Liora," said the bark-skinned elder, his voice low but firm.

"He attacked what remains of elven honor by imprisoning my sister." Liora crossed her arms. "And now you will hear them."

The three elders looked at Exelia. The blind elder was the first to speak.

"You awakened an echo," he said, without turning his head. "We felt the waves. A fragment of the ancient ruin. How did you survive?"

Kael interjected, "Not only did she survive. She contained it. We sealed it together. And I want to know why it was there, and why it seemed to be waiting for her."

The elders looked at each other—not with surprise, but with recognition.

"There are things that have slept beneath these forests since before any empire." The feathered elder's voice was deep, like muffled thunder. "Watchers, prisons, echoes... You did not awaken something. You merely touched what was already waking."

"What about this shitty treatment?" Kael exploded, breaking the heavy silence of the tower. "Is this how you treat your own kind? Or is this just racism disguised as tradition?"

The three elders stared at him with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. The tension hung in the air like a string about to snap.

"Excuse me," said the lichen-skinned elder, tilting his head with a mocking smile, "but... who are you, anyway?"

Exelia let out a tired sigh and stepped forward, her voice firm as an unsheathed blade.

"I think you already know who I work for, don't you?"

The three elders looked at each other. Liora frowned.

"Witches," muttered the blind elder. "The Witch Queen."

"Exactly." Exelia nodded without hesitation. "And this one here..." she pointed to Kael, "is the next Witch King."

Silence.

Then laughter echoed through the tower like the crack of a dry branch. The lichen-covered elder leaned back, laughing loudly, as if he had heard the joke of the century.

"A race of women... crowning a king?" He laughed harder, his shoulders shaking. "You two are more foolish than you look!"

Kael crossed his arms. His eyes darkened, the air around him shimmering slightly, as if the heat had been sucked out of the room.

Liora, however, did not laugh. Her eyes were fixed on Kael—not with contempt, but with something more dangerous: assessment. Silence. Caution.

Kael tilted his head slightly toward Exelia, without taking his eyes off the laughing elder.

"Kill him."

Exelia did not hesitate.

"I am an elf servant, but my loyalty belongs to Your Majesty."

Her hand flew to her sword. The metal glinted as it was drawn—a black silver blade with ancient inscriptions that seemed to glow with the very breath of the forest.

In that instant, the room exploded with energy.

All the elders rose to their feet. The guards around them drew their weapons. The tower's aura rose like an invisible wall. Branches shook, roots rose from the ground, as if the tree itself were preparing to crush them.

But Exelia had already moved.

Her blade stopped less than a hair's breadth from the neck of the elder who had mocked her. The tip trembled—not from hesitation, but from the energy it contained.

The elder's eyes were now wide. He was no longer laughing.

"You've forgotten who trained me," said Exelia, her voice low and sharp as a sword. "You've forgotten who taught me to kill without leaving a trace. The only reason you're still breathing... is because he," she nodded toward Kael, "hasn't had to prove anything yet."

Kael took a step forward. His presence was different now. More... dense. The aura he radiated was foreign to the elves: ancient, chaotic, like a storm contained in human form. His eyes glowed a deep amber.

"I kept quiet and listened to everything because I'm just a guest," Kael said, his voice calm and controlled. "But since apparently, I'm nothing. I can just kill you all."

He stopped beside Exelia, staring at the elder with the blade at his neck.

"But no one survives to laugh twice."

The living tree shook beneath his feet.

Liora finally spoke up.

"Enough." Liora's voice cut through the air like a blade burying itself in rock. She stepped forward, crossing the space between Kael and the elders with the authority of someone who didn't need to ask for passage. Her gaze was cold, unbreakable—like ancient iron forged in war.

She stopped between the two sides. She turned to Exelia. "Put away your blade."

Exelia obeyed without hesitation. Not out of submission—but out of respect. There was hierarchy there. And honor.

The elder, still pale, brought his trembling hand to his own neck, where Exelia's blade had grazed him. Sweat dripped from his temple. He tried to regain his composure, but his voice came out faltering:

"This... this is treason..."

Liora turned slowly toward him. Her eyes, once warm toward Exelia, were now as cold as the bottom of a glacial lake.

"No," she replied. "This is consequence."

In a single, precise, silent movement, she drew the curved dagger from her waist—the ancestral blade of oath—and slit the elder's throat.

The sound was brief. Almost delicate. A petal cutting through the wind.

The elder's head rolled slowly, falling with a dull thud onto the roots of the sacred tree. The body followed, falling without resistance. A collective sigh ran through the elves present—part shock, part relief. None of them dared to move.

Liora knelt immediately, fresh blood still dripping from the blade. She bowed before Kael, her forehead almost touching the ground.

"I am sorry for not recognizing you before, Your Majesty." Liora's voice remained steady, clear as glass under pressure. "I beg forgiveness for the Elven People's disrespect of your authority."

The silence that followed was almost palpable.

The eyes of everyone in the hall—soldiers, healers, advisors—were fixed on her. Liora had just killed one of the Circle's Elders as if she were cutting a rotten weed from a sacred garden.

And no one moved.

Not out of fear of her.

But because they all knew that if she hadn't done it, the sentence would have been collective. The entire forest would have bled.

One by one, the elves present lowered their eyes. In agreement. In acceptance. Or in resignation.

She had done the unthinkable. But it was necessary.

Because they knew.

The war was already within their walls. Families divided. Tribes fragmented. Councils conspiring against each other in stifled silence. But even amid all this, one truth was indisputable—among all the enemies that threatened the races, the Witch Queen was the most feared.

She did not negotiate.

She did not warn.

Just days ago, she had dethroned the Dwarf King by killing him in front of all the other rulers... No statement. No reason. Just power.

And now, the one who walked beside her was her heir. The next Witch King.

Kael.

No one dared to look him directly in the eye. Because what stood before them was no longer just a man. It was a harbinger.

Liora rose slowly, wiping the blade with a ceremonial cloth. She turned to the other elves present. "The decision was mine. If anyone has anything to say, speak now."

No one spoke.

She nodded. "Then listen carefully. This man is under my protection. He is an ally of the Queen—and our fate, whether we like it or not, is now intertwined with his. What comes next will be decided by our choices... or by our cowardice."

Exelia stood beside Liora, her hand close to the hilt of her sword. "The war has already begun. To feign neutrality is to kneel and wait for the blade."

Kael stepped forward, observing each face with the calculated calm of someone who had faced too many trials.

"I don't care about your internal strife." His voice was deep and sharp. "There is something greater moving in the shadows. I only came because of your Princess, Sylphie, who is under the care of the Witches after the invasion of Azalith. I only came to speak with your Queen. That's all."