The Council’s Claim

The woman in silver robes stood like a statue carved from moonlight, her staff glowing with a soft, eerie luminescence that cast long shadows across the clearing. The winged beasts—sleek, bat-like creatures with claws like scythes—hovered frozen mid-air, their screeches silenced by her command, their violet eyes dull and submissive. The rift behind her pulsed faintly, its violet light subdued but alive, a jagged scar against the darkening Everwood sky. Her gaze, cold and unyielding, fixed on Elara, cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk.

Vincent staggered to Elara's side, his pistol still smoking, his injured arm hanging limp as blood dripped onto the grass. His chest heaved, his dark eyes blazing with defiance as he positioned himself between her and the newcomer, though his strength wavered, his breaths shallow and pained. "Back off," he rasped, his voice a growl despite the strain. "She's not going anywhere with you."