14. Cassie

14

CASSIE

After the dance Aiden slipped away and I moved near one of the decorative pillars. The clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation filled the air as I watched the reception unfold.

The alchemist Evander Jones was in his element, surrounded by a few admirers eager to catch a snippet of his wisdom.

Unease that prickled the back of my neck – something was about to shift.

"Evander," came a call, sharp enough to slice through the chatter. It belonged to one of the Council aides, a man with a face as forgettable as his name. "A word. About the Formless Ones."

Evander turned and he nodded once. The small crowd parted for him; he beckoned Leslie Andrews with a flick of his wrist before striding towards a grouping of tables. Leslie tossed me a smug look as if this secret meeting would elevate her beyond our petty concerns.

"Numir will see you now," the aide added, allowing Evander and Leslie to pass before moving to my side. "They've requested you join them."

"Me?" I asked, my surprise genuine. The aide didn't wait for a response, just gestured for me to follow.

The tension in the air was a tangible thing, pressing against my skin as I saw the others moving toward the meeting area.

The Kings.

Bran's solemn attention was fixed ahead, his long white hair like a silent banner of his dignity. Rey, with that mischievous expression, seemed almost to dance around the seriousness of our procession. Martellus walked with the steady grace of someone who is used to being underestimated because of his size. Hugh, who cultivated not being noticed successfully enough, this was the first time I'd spotted him at the reception.

We reached the tables of seated daemons. That's when Hugh stopped dead, his broad back going rigid. The muscles in his jaw clenched visibly.

"Something wrong?" Martellus rumbled, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the tables.

Hugh didn't turn to face us. "I can't... It's not right."

"Can't what?" Rey prodded.

"Meet with them." There was a tremor in Hugh's reply, a hint of the struggle happening beneath his controlled exterior. His eyes had shaded to red, a gleam in the darkness

Evander approached from behind, passing by me with that signature confident stride. He leaned close to Hugh, his smile cold. "You're letting your fears dictate your actions, Hugh. Your woman is safe from us for the moment."

For a moment, Hugh's eyes flared bright red, a silent warning of the beast within wrestling for control. My heart skipped. This wasn't just a disagreement; this could turn into something dangerous.

"Go," Bran's voice was soft but carried an edge that sliced through the tension. "I'll handle this. And I will tolerate no threat to Tanni."

Without another word, Hugh turned and strode away, leaving us to stare after him. The fear that clutched at my throat made it difficult to swallow. We were on the brink, and it felt like any move could send us tumbling into chaos.

"Evander. Do not threaten her again, even by implication." Bran's controlled voice cut through the tension left in Hugh's wake. His white hair caught the dim light, giving him an otherworldly aura.

Evander simply shrugged, the epitome of nonchalance. "A vampire like Hugh must maintain a tight grip on his control. It's for his own good—and ours."

His words, smooth and assured, wrapped around the room like velvet. I shivered despite myself. It was unsettling, how Evander's confidence made something so cruel sound almost reasonable, likable even. A chill crept down my spine, reminiscent of the iron grasp Franklin's potions once had on me.

"Are you okay?" Aiden asked, noticing my discomfort.

I nodded, but reached for his hand anyway, seeking warmth. "Just got a bit cold all of a sudden."

I gripped Aiden's hand tighter as we seated ourselves with the alchemists and council members. Silence fell around us, the sounds of the reception fading.

"Let us dispense with pleasantries," Numir began, his face cold and hard. "The current situation is dire. We propose a sacrifice of those humans gifted with potent magic to the Formless Ones to make an agreement for them to leave this world."

"Gifted humans?" I whispered, feeling Aiden's hand tense around mine.

"Indeed." Evander leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting. "You want to serve humanity up on a silver platter to those... things?"

"Better them than us," Ishtar added quietly. It took a moment for her words to sink in, delivered in her sweet calm tones

"Your plan is barbaric," I couldn't keep the disgust from my expression.

"Barbarism is a matter of perspective," Numir said smoothly. "Especially when survival is at stake."

"Survival? You mean your own," snapped Aiden.

Evander snorted. "Easy for you to say, since you're not under any threat. Elf."

"Enough," Bran interjected, his authoritative tone demanding silence. "Evander, explain exactly what your endgame is. What alternative do you offer to save humanity."

"Simple," Evander responded. "We've been working to expel you monsters, to reduce the overall magical footprint of this world. Then you came back, like a case of warts."

"To make it unappealing for the Formless Ones," I muttered, understanding dawning on me.

"Exactly," Leslie Andrews chimed in, her condescension palpable. "It's about controlling the variables."

"Control," Rey echoed. "At what cost? Your means have nearly destroyed the trolls and vampires, and brutalized Bran's and my people."

"Whatever it takes," Evander said firmly, clasping his hands in front of him. "We face reality. For humanity to survive, there's no room for you here."

"Both your plans reek of cowardice," Martellus's words fell like stones.

"Does it?" Numir retorted, the facade of civility crumbling. "Or does it speak of necessity? You, like the elf, can flee to another world. We can't."

"Enough!" I couldn't contain my revulsion. "Destroying whole races is awful. Feeding people to your enemies as sacrifices is monstrous. You're both terrible!"

"Monstrous," Leslie sneered. "That's rich, coming from someone who's playing the toy to an elf."

"Better to be a monster than a murderer," Bran shot back.

"You are all fools," Ishtar said, her sweet voice slicing through the tension. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping violently against the floor. "We're done here."

"Wait—" Evander's attempt at persuasion fell on deaf ears as the council members stormed out, their departure leaving a charged silence in their wake.

"Formless Ones don't play favorites, they'll take anyone they can," Aiden broke the quiet, his tone serious. "Franklin's possession is proof enough. They're already here. He's cooperating with them, you've said. That makes the situation more precarious."

"Which means we need to act," I added, feeling the weight of the situation settle around us.

"Right," he nodded. "But if the alchemists and monsters worked together, maybe we'd stand a chance."

"An alliance?" Evander mused, crossing his arms. "It's not what we planned, but perhaps it's time for a new strategy."

"Perhaps indeed," Bran agreed with a heavy sigh.

A moment stretched, heavy and expectant. Evander cleared his throat, the sound somehow settling the angry atmosphere left by the council's dramatic exit.

"Then it's settled," he said, voice oddly resonant in the quiet that enveloped us. "We will join forces with you monsters, against the Formless Ones."

He turned to Martellus, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. "And we mean it this time."

I shifted uncomfortably. Aiden stood next to me, a statue dedicated to suspicion. Bran's expression remained stoic and unreadable, but I caught the briefest flicker of doubt cross Roma's face before she masked it with her usual assured facade.

"Evander," Martellus started, the room hanging on his gravelly tone, "your words have proven... hollow in the past."

Evander nodded, a concession. "True. But necessity breeds sincerity. Our survival is bound to yours now."

"Survival has a way of changing perspectives," Leslie chimed in, her arrogance softened somewhat by the gravity of our plight.

"Doesn't mean we trust you," Roma cut in sharply, arms crossed.

"Nor should you," Rey murmured from the doorway.

"Trust is earned," Bran finally spoke, grounding us. "Not given freely, especially not now."

"Agreed," I said, feeling the cold edge of skepticism within me. "But what choice do we have?"

"None," Aiden replied, his hand squeezing mine. "It's this or let the Formless Ones eat your world."

"Then let's begin." Leslie stepped forward, extending a well-manicured hand toward Martellus.

He stared at it for a beat too long before grasping it. "For now, we fight together."