The council chamber was designed to feel smaller than it really was.

The ceiling arched high with ribbed stone beams carved like frozen waves, but the circular table was tight, forcing people close, forcing eye contact. It was a room made for confrontation wrapped in politeness, where power pretended to be polite.

Lyra felt it the moment she stepped inside.

The air was thicker here, heavy with old magic and older opinions. The walls did not whisper but they remembered. Every Alpha decree, ...