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We followed the stream of nobles into what appeared to be some kind of chamber. Tiered seating surrounded a central floor, giving the space the feeling of an arena. The ceiling stretched up into darkness, lost beyond the reach of candlelight.

Aether and Vexa had disappeared into the crowd, but I could feel their presence somewhere in the shadows. Rethlyn positioned himself near one of the exits.

"The Conference is now in session," a hooded figure announced.

“Where is the Queen?” I whispered.

Effie hesitated briefly. “She doesn't attend anymore.”

General Urkin stood first, his medals glinting in the candlelight. "Before we address new matters, we'll hear from General Taliora of the Medic's Unit."

A woman with sharp features and practical military dress rose. Despite her rigid posture, exhaustion lined her face. "The drought has reached the mid-Western townships. Our medics can barely maintain enough essence to treat the most critical cases. We've lost three more villages this month alone."

"Lost how?" interrupted a woman. "To starvation or to Draxon'shospitality?"

"Who are all these people?" I whispered to Effie.

"That's Lady Baldurson," Effie responded in a low tone, gesturing towards the woman speaking. The name sounded familiar. Is that what one of the girls had mentioned in my dream?

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several Council members exchanged dark looks.

Effie leaned closer, her eyes darting to an elderly man who'd just stood up. "That's Lord Sveinson—terribly traditional family, absolutely despises anything that threatens the old ways."

"My people are dyingnow," the man declared, his face reddening. "The grain shipments barely feed a quarter of?—"

A woman with calculating eyes cut him off. "Perhaps if you hadn't been so quick to sever trade relations?—"

"Lady Vallgrym," Effie supplied under her breath.

Yes. These were the same names from my dream. Anxiety coiled in me as I watched on.

"You dare suggest we trade with those who—" Lord Sveinson's anger seemed to fill the chamber.

"Enough!" Urkin's voice boomed through the space. "We cannotafford to be divided. Not now. Not with our enemy growing stronger by the day."

The mention of my realm sent another wave of whispers through the crowd. I felt Effie shift uncomfortably beside me.

A man with dark eyes that seemed to absorb the candlelight stood next. "Our scouts report increased activity near the rip. Their towers draw more essence each day, while we grow weaker. The Umbra's current strategy clearly isn't working."

"Lord Skaldvindr," Effie breathed, a hint of disgust in her tone. "He’s the head of the most influential noble family. A majority of the families will vote as he does."

Skaldvindr… Another name I recognized. I wondered, for a brief moment, if I should tell her—or Vexa— about the dream from the night before. I still had no idea of its importance. Who the two girls even were. But now I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it had happened here. In Umbrathia. But when? Was it a memory, or something happening now? Was it the same two girls from my first dream?

But I didn’t want to tell the Umbra about that ability yet. Because even an innocent conversation about the dreams would lead to revealing things I wasn’t ready to. I wanted to trust them, but I still wasn’t sure if I could. And I didn’t want to give them any information that could turn me into an even bigger asset to them. Information they could use against Sídhe.

That's when the side doors opened. The effect was immediate—like all the air had been sucked from the chamber. A man entered, moving with fluid grace, his fine clothing a stark contrast to the darkened robes of the Council. Despite the realm's suffering, he looked vibrant, life and color flooding his skin in a way that seemed almost obscene among the muted pallor of the crowd. But his eyes... his eyes were wrong. Milky and faded, like clouds had settled over them, yet they missed nothing as they swept the chamber. His glossy black hair was cropped short,emphasizing the sharp angles of his face—his beauty stark and mesmerizing.

"Valkan," Effie whispered.

"My friends," Valkan began, his voice smooth as silk. "How long will we continue to debate while our realm dies around us?"

A murmur rippled through the crowd. I noticed several Council members shift uncomfortably in their seats. Urkin's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

"The essence-drought spreads." Valkan's voice dropped lower, more intimate, as if he were speaking to each person individually. "Our children grow weaker. Our tethers fade. And yet we sit here, bound by antiquated views, while Draxon's fields still produce." His gaze settled briefly on our section, and I felt Effie stiffen beside me.

I thought back to the whispered conversations I'd overheard in the tower, the way Aether and the others had tensed at any mention of Valkan's name. The nobles spoke of trade with Draxon as if it were something unthinkable, yet their lands remained fertile while the rest of the realm withered. What could be so terrible about this man that they'd rather watch their people starve than accept his help?

"My Lord," a woman's voice cut through the tension. An elderly Council member stood, her silver hair gleaming in the candlelight. "Your terms are?—"