Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The chamber was circular, with a vaulted ceiling carved from ancient, living stone - enchanted with spells as old as the forgotten names of the world. In the center, an immense round table of black ebony pulsed gently with golden runes, illuminating the faces around it with a flickering light.

They were all there.

The great witches of each domain. Imposing, mysterious figures as old as the continents themselves. Each with their own peculiar aura: some with living cloaks of leaves, others shrouded in mists, shadows or fire. The power gathered there made the air vibrate with silent tension.

On the highest throne rested Eleonor, the Witch Queen. Her golden eyes, like ancient suns, shone with a calm that belied the absolute power that pulsed through her body. She kept one hand resting gently on the arm of the chair, the other close to Kael, who stood beside her.

Kael kept his posture upright, his shoulders broad and his eyes alert, like a sheathed sword at the ready.

Then Exelia stood up.

Her white armor reflected the lights in the room, but she didn't seem out of place among the witches. Her presence was firm, disciplined. Captain of the Royal Knights, but also an apprentice in the magical lineage of the Guardian Driade.

She took a deep breath and began: "The attack on Azalith Academy was coordinated, meticulous... and insane. A primary target: Sylphie, current heir to the Elven Kingdom. Secondary targets: Amelia Valroth and Irelia Ainsworth, as well as more wounded like Imperial Princess Elizabeth, multiple isolated targets received attacks. We speculate that they were connoisseurs. "

Some witches frowned.

"They were surrounded by multiple hostile forces - completely non-human, beings who sought power through advanced chemistry, forcing their cores into destruction and corruption."

She looked at Eleonor, then at Kael.

"We knights were led by Kael, who teleported to the battlefield to protect the Academy. The impact of his arrival broke three containment seals and interrupted a ritual that... would have drained the life essence from the children in that academy."

A murmur went around the table. One of the silver-haired witches muttered: "Vital essence... that was spirit reaping magic."

Exelia nodded, continuing more firmly:

"Kael single-handedly eliminated each of the invading forces. We confirmed thirty-four bodies. Some... unrecognizable. He declared the place a kill zone. No enemy survived."

The words fell like stones on still water. The silence was heavy. Until Eleonor spoke, her voice serene and cutting like a winter wind: "What about the Elf girl?" She had to keep up the appearances of a Queen.

"Alive. Resting under triple surveillance in Astrenhal Palace. Amelia and Irelia too. Irelia, meanwhile, has woken up. As it was the Prince's request, we've kept accommodation for her and her guardian."

A collective sigh. Relief? Perhaps. But more than that - tension. Actually... the fact that they're all okay is very good. After all, now all these kingdoms owe the witches.

Eleonor then slowly stood up.

"So..." she said, looking around at everyone present, "...someone dared to use my grandson as a target, trying to sacrifice the people who love him, but also raping Azalith, playing with cores, and trying to kidnap or murder one of the contenders for succession in the elven kingdom?"

His eyes burned like suns.

"Declare war on their name. Whoever is behind this will be unveiled. Torn from the veil and placed under the judgment of the Arcane Court."

She then turned to Kael, who still stood firm beside her.

"You held the blade this time, my grandson. But something tells me it was only the prelude. Be ready."

Kael merely nodded.

"I am."

...

The round room slowly emptied, each witch leaving in ceremonial silence, some with somber expressions, others exchanging glances that promised retaliation. The lights on the table faded to just a golden glow beneath the ebony surface.

When the last door closed, Eleonor remained standing, her gaze lost for a moment in the runes that still pulsed faintly. The silence in the room was now dense, almost welcoming - like the breath of something living and ancient.

Exelia stood to the right, her posture rigid, but her gaze wandered discreetly between Kael and Eleonor, as if she knew that something deeper was yet to come.

Eleonor sighed. A restrained sound, but one that seemed to echo through the stones of the hall.

She then broke the silence, without turning her face:

"What do you want to do now?" The question had no commanding tone. It wasn't from the Witch Queen. It was her grandmother's. The matriarch. The woman who had known Kael since before he could walk.

Kael hesitated.

For a moment, he seemed to have no answer. His mind was still on Azalith's dried blood, on the flames he himself had conjured, on Sylphie's pale, unconscious gaze.

Then, his voice hoarse and a little lower, he answered:

"I want to speak to the Queen of the Elves." He paused, then faced his grandmother.

"Sylphie's mother."

Eleonor turned then, watching him carefully. Her gaze swept over her grandson's face - and there was something new in it. Not judgment, not approval. Just recognition.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked calmly.

Exelia frowned subtly when she heard that name.

Kael said nothing. He just nodded.

Eleonor approached him slowly and put her hand on his shoulder, a gesture so rare from her that even Exelia looked away out of respect.

"If you go to her, go as Kael, not as an envoy from the Witch Kingdom. That old woman respects blood, but fears swords. If you want to talk, go with your mind, not your magic."

Kael clenched his fists once, then relaxed them.

"Will you allow it?"

Eleonor smiled slightly, with that old sparkle in her eyes.

"Allow it? I don't own your path anymore, Kael. I just hope that, as you follow, you still remember where you came from... and what you're trying to protect."

She then turned to Exelia.

"Prepare the passage for Eloran'thiel. He'll need an escort who knows when to raise the sword... and when to put it away."

Exelia bowed.

"Understood."

...

[Elsewhere...]

The darkness was thick.

Not like night.

Not like a shadow.

But like a suffocating curtain of fear.

Sylphie ran. Bare feet on the cold mud, branches cutting into her thin ankles, her white dress - stained, torn - clinging to the roots of the ground. The smell of blood was in the air. Not hers, but that of other children. Of men. Of monsters.

"Run, little one," a voice hissed behind her, repulsive, slippery as goo. "The princess no one wanted. The girl with the eyes of light... let's see how much they're worth on the market."

She stumbled.

She fell flat on her face. The silver shackles still clinked on her wrists - too tight for such a small child.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but the forest offered no consolation. The sound of the leaves was mocking. The trees twitched, like silent witnesses.

"Mama..." she whispered. "Mom, where are you?"

But her mother wasn't coming.

Only the sound of heavy footsteps, panting, and the muffled cries of other children behind her.

She crawled into a hollow tree, panting. The chains jingled with every movement, and she hated them - more than anything. She hated the men who had taken her from the golden garden. She hated the hands that had pulled her from the maid's arms. The taste of the dirty cloth they put over her mouth.

Then darkness took over.

And with it, a laugh.

Thin.

Cruel.

"Little elven freak... who's going to pay for you?"

One of the faces approached now, distorted like a nightmare made flesh: black eyes like bottomless pits, rotten teeth and a scar that cut across half his face. He reached out - but as he touched Sylphie's arm, her skin burned.

She screamed. A scream of terror, but also of power. Her childish core glowed beneath her skin, unstable, radiating pure light.

But no one was coming.

She was just a child, and the light... wasn't enough.

The man grabbed her tightly, and Sylphie felt the bones in her arm crack, the pain exploding like lightning under her skin. She screamed, screamed for her mother, for anyone.

Until...

A different light shone behind the monster.

Not the glow of its core.

It was golden. Sharp. Hot.

A sword?

A bolt of lightning?

No...

It was someone's silhouette.

But before she could see who it was, the dream broke.

Sylphie woke up with a jolt.

She sat up violently, her breath short, her eyes wide.

The room was dark, but warm. Silent. The walls were white marble, covered in elven tapestries. She recognized the place.

Astrenhal. The palace.

There were protective runes pulsing gently on the columns, and the scent of flowers hung in the air. But none of that mattered at the moment.

Her trembling fingers touched her wrists.

There were no chains.

She swallowed.

Her skin was intact. No cuts, no bruises.

Her hands were clean.

But her eyes... still full of tears.

She hugged herself, shivering.

Until she heard a light knock on the door. Discreet. Familiar.

A deep, serene voice:

"Sylphie... are you awake?"

It was Kael.

The same light as in the dream.

Only now it was real.

"Don't leave me!" Sylphie screamed and pulled him tight... as tears began to flow... "Please... don't ever leave me..." She begged as Kael just held her...

"Shh" he said, "it's over..."