Chapter 12: The Serpent’s Whispers
Far from the walls of Elric's quiet clinic, deep within the marble halls of the palace, the Royal Council gathered under the shroud of candlelight. A heavy stillness hung in the chamber, disturbed only by the rustle of silk robes and the occasional clink of a jeweled ring against polished wood.
Chancellor Morian, the oldest and most cunning of the council, leaned forward.
"So, the king met with the boy," he said, voice like dry parchment.
"Yes," whispered by Lady Virella, her fan fluttering like the wings of a nervous bird. "But he's no longer a boy, is he? He's a man. A healer. A... revolution waiting to happen."
Morian narrowed his eyes. "Or a weapon. One we must either wield... or destroy."
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Back in the village, Elric's clinic buzzed with life. Patients came and went—children with fevers, farmers with twisted ankles, mothers clutching infants. Lira moved between them with grace, taking notes, soothing cries, fetching tools with practiced ease.
But something in Elric had changed.
He was quieter. More focused. Every movement had purpose, every glance was calculated.