Five elders sat around the ancient oak table, their faces grim in the flickering candlelight. Gareth's empty chair beside me served as a constant reminder of what Dean Thomas had cost us.

"Gentlemen," I began, my voice cutting through the tense silence. "We need to address our current situation and make some changes to our leadership structure."

Elder Casimir Volkov, the oldest among them at seventy-three, leaned forward with his weathered hands clasped. His grey beard couldn't hide the ...