Chapter Sixty-Five: Bridging Worlds

Camelot buzzed with a mix of cautious optimism and underlying tension following the first contact with the new Inphel. In the great hall, Arthur addressed an assembly of citizens and resistance leaders, his voice steady and commanding.

"We stand at a crossroads," he began, Excalibur resting against the dais. "The new Inphel represent both a threat and an opportunity. If we can guide them, we may find a path to peace. If not, we must be ready to act decisively."

Murmurs spread through the crowd, a mixture of agreement and scepticism.

"Peace with the Inphel?" one voice called out. "How can we trust them after everything they've done?"

Arthur's gaze swept the room. "We don't trust blindly. But we don't condemn without cause. Every action we take will shape the future—not just for us, but for generations to come."

In the weeks that followed, Camelot became a hub of preparation and debate. Committees were formed to draught protocols for potential coexistence, while the military bolstered defences in case the rogue Matron's intentions proved false.

Shadowleaf was tasked with training liaisons to monitor the new Inphel colonies. She drilled them in both diplomacy and combat, her approach pragmatic but firm.

"Don't let your guard down," she warned during a session. "They may look peaceful, but remember where they came from. Always be ready."

Meanwhile, Bandruí worked with the fae to establish communication networks between Camelot and the Inphel lakes. Her magic resonated with the energies of the earth and water, creating pathways for messages to travel undetected.

"These lines are fragile," she told Arthur during a briefing. "But they'll allow us to stay informed—and intervene if necessary."

Despite this progress, tensions within the Vanguard simmered. In a heated meeting in the war room, Firebrand paced like a caged animal, his flames flickering.

"We're putting everything on the line for a gamble," he said, his voice sharp. "And for what? A slim chance they might not turn on us?"

Bandruí, seated calmly at the table, met his glare. "It's not a gamble. It's a choice. To be better than the Inphel who destroyed our world."

"And what if we're wrong?" he snapped. "What if this blows up in our faces?"

"Then we'll deal with it," Bandruí replied, her tone steady. "But I'd rather take the chance than let fear dictate our actions."

Swift Angel, standing by the window, finally spoke. "Fear isn't unwarranted. But neither is hope. We've fought for survival. Now we have a chance to fight for something more. Isn't it worth trying?"

Later that evening, Christopher found Firebrand on the battlements, staring out over Camelot's flickering lights.

"You're burning brighter than usual," Christopher said, lighting a cigarette. "What's eating you?"

Firebrand's flames flared briefly before dimming. "I lost my family to the Inphel," he said, his voice low. "I watched them take everything from me. Now we're supposed to trust them?"

Christopher exhaled a long plume of smoke. "It's not about trust. It's about giving the future a chance. But I get it. Some wounds don't heal easily."

Firebrand turned to him, his expression hard. "And what if they're just biding their time? What if we're handing them the keys to finish what they started?"

"Then we fight," Christopher said simply. "But until that happens, we hold onto hope. It's the only thing that's kept us going this long."

The citizens of Camelot were just as divided as the Vanguard. Public debates grew more heated as news of the new Inphel spread.

In the market square, a preacher rallied a crowd. "These creatures are abominations!" he shouted. "They carry the sins of their ancestors in their blood. We cannot let them live among us!"

A young woman stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. "And what about our sins?" she asked. "What about the mistakes we've made? Should we be judged forever for them?"

The crowd fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

Back at the lakes, the rogue Matron sensed the growing tension. She met with Arthur and Bandruí by the water's edge, her glowing form reflected in the rippling surface.

"Your people are divided," she said, her tone sombre. "As are mine. If we cannot bridge this divide, the future will be one of blood, not peace."

Arthur's expression was grim. "Then we must find a way to build trust—before it's too late."

The rogue Matron regarded him with a steady gaze. "Trust is fragile. It must be earned. But the price of failure is higher than either of us can bear."

In Camelot, Arthur convened a council of leaders from across Britain, inviting voices from all walks of life. He stood at the head of the room, Excalibur gleaming faintly.

"We face a challenge unlike any in our history," he began. "The new Inphel offer us a chance to change the course of this war—but also a risk we cannot ignore. Together, we must decide how to move forward."

The debate was long and fierce, but by its end, a tentative plan was formed: a framework for coexistence, balanced by vigilance.

As the council adjourned, Bandruí approached Arthur, her voice quiet. "Do you think this will work?"

Arthur's gaze was steady. "I don't know. But it's the best chance we have."