The chamber was carved from obsidian and starlight.
Elior stepped through the towering archway, draped in a flowing black cloak lined with silver trim.
Sirenya walked at his side, hand never far from the sword at her waist.
Behind them, six armored Sentinels flanked the walls, their faces hidden behind mirrored visors.
At the far end of the room stood a crescent-shaped dais—a throne of sorts, occupied not by one ruler, but seven.
The Council of Teeth.
Seven high lords and ladies, each representing one of the Dominion's ancient houses.
They were draped in ceremonial garb, their expressions sharp with suspicion, curiosity… and veiled contempt.
"Lord Elior Kaelith," boomed a voice from the center.
A man with a narrow face and a serpent-like smile leaned forward, his fingers steepled.
"You walk again. We were beginning to think you'd lost the will to live."
Elior met his gaze coolly.
"Sorry to disappoint, Lord Marran. You'll have to wait a bit longer to steal my inheritance."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the council.
Sirenya stiffened.
Marran's smile didn't waver. "Your tongue has sharpened during your recovery."
"And your fangs seem shorter than I expected," Elior said, stepping forward. "Should I expect bites, or just barking?"
The youngest of the seven—a girl no older than twenty—snorted. "He's got fire. More than the old Elior ever had."
Elior shot her a glance. She wore a crimson mask and a cloak of feathers. Unreadable. Dangerous.
"Lady Virel," Sirenya whispered. "House of the Ember Spire. Dangerous. Unaligned."
Elior nodded subtly.
"I'm not here to trade jabs," he said to the council. "I want answers. Why was I sent on a mission that ended in an ambush? Why wasn't I warned?"
Another councilor—a woman with silver eyes and a crown of thorns—spoke. "You were acting as your father's representative. The Dreylith used a cloaking field. No one could've known."
Lies. Elior didn't need his old memories to hear them.
Someone had wanted him dead.
"Then I suppose I'll have to learn quickly," he said. "About war. Politics. Enemies."
He took another step forward. "Because I don't plan on dying again. And if any of you had a hand in what happened—"
His eyes gleamed.
"—I'll find out."
The room went silent. Even Marran stopped smiling.
Then, slowly, Virel clapped.
"Well said, Little Star. Let's see how long you can burn."