Chapter 11 - Is There Hope?
As Selene listened intently to the deliberations of her council, the intricate gears of preparation turned ceaselessly. The details of the strategy, once just a rough outline, were now taking sharper form. New contingencies were being considered, alternate routes mapped out, and resources allocated with surgical precision. The atmosphere in the castle, though heavy with solemn seriousness, pulsed with focused, determined energy. Every member of the council, every expert in their respective field, worked tirelessly to ensure success.
Amid the heated discussions, new ideas emerged—some dismissed as impractical, others enthusiastically incorporated into the main plan. Silas's suggestion, initially met with skepticism by Cassian, proved to be a valuable asset. The approach of focusing on the "inspiration" behind the creation of legendary weapons, rather than just a conventional tournament, opened up new strategic possibilities.
Valerius, with his characteristic shrewdness, coordinated the gathering of information on the working methods of various blacksmiths and artisans, searching for patterns or elements that might influence Drakk's judgment.
While some aspects of the operation were already in full swing—such as the Shadow Unit's monitoring of Drakk's movements and the preparation of strategic locations for the meeting—other fronts still demanded attention. Border security and communication with potential allies were just a few of the points being meticulously debated and refined. The shadow of a great event loomed over the demonic realm, and Selene's determination to ensure its success was the driving force behind every action, every decision, every breath during those intense days of preparation.
After twenty-four uninterrupted hours of planning, discussions, and strategizing—not just about the legendary blacksmith but also about the governance of the kingdom—the meeting finally adjourned. Everyone present was extraordinary; a single day of work wouldn't wear them out under normal circumstances. However, they were approaching a limit—not a physical one, but something far more subtle. Traces of a powerful aura began to emanate from the monarch seated on the throne.
Though still harmless, their aged bodies, decades past their prime, couldn't withstand much more of that exposure. The meeting was adjourned, and the council members dispersed to their respective tasks. Only Lyra remained seated.
Silence returned to the meeting room, soon broken by a gradual increase in pressure as Queen Selene released some of the energy she had contained over the past twenty-four hours.
"You shouldn't stay, Lyra," the shadow behind the throne remarked.
A thin layer of darkness enveloped Lyra, whose narrowed eyes revealed genuine concern for the queen.
"Your Majesty, it's getting worse!" Lyra exclaimed.
"It's under control. I've just been having... unusual dreams," Selene replied. Her frequent cosmic dream journeys always brought her a profound sense of freedom but also caused these occasional instabilities.