Chapter 18 - The Trial of the High Council
Three weeks later, the grand chambers of the High Council in the capital were packed to maximum capacity.
Representatives from all the major northern and eastern houses sat in the tiered wooden gallery, whispering nervously among themselves. At the center of the marble floor stood Vane Kale, stripped of his titles, his robes replaced by the simple grey tunic of a disgraced prisoner.
High Inquisitor Morland banged his gavel against the wooden block, silencing the murmurs in the room.
"Lord Vane Kale," Morland’s voice echoed sternly through the domed chamber. "You stand accused of high treason, unauthorized use of dark magic, and conspiracy against the sovereign strongholds of the north. How do you plead?"
Vane, broken and defeated, kept his head bowed. "Guilty, Your Eminence."
A collective gasp rippled through the gallery.
Before the inquisitors could pass sentence, the heavy oak doors at the back of the chamber swung wide open.
All heads turned.
Walking down the grand central aisle with absolute, unshakeable grace was Revna, dressed in midnight-black travel leathers embroidered with silver thread, her golden aura shimmering faintly around her. Beside her walked Fenrik Ashvain, his head held high, carrying one of the twins in his arms while Revna held the other.
The council members rose instinctively to their feet, the ancient power radiating from the family silencing the entire room in absolute reverence.
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"The Bloodmoon pack accepts the confession," Fenrik announced, his voice carrying rich, resonant authority across the chamber. "The northern border is secure. The Kale house is dissolved. Let this be a warning to any who mistake peace for weakness."
Inquisitor Morland bowed his head deeply. "The Council acknowledges the sovereignty of the Ashvain bloodline. The case is closed."
