KELLY THOMPSON'S POV
The heavy door to the council chamber groaned on its ancient hinges as Jason and I stepped over the threshold, a silent omen that whispered of the uneasy peace we were about to navigate. The room stretched before us, lined with faces that bore the weight of past hostility; each one a former enemy, their eyes briefly flicking toward us in wary acknowledgment before skittering away.
I felt it then—the palpable tension that hung in the air like a thick fog, a tangible force that pressed against my skin and coiled around my chest. A murmur of hushed conversations died down as our presence fully registered, the stillness left in its wake far more unsettling than any whispered threat could ever be. Clasped hands tightened at my sides, nails digging into my palms to ground myself against the onslaught of memories that threatened to rise.