Vaelor stormed down the Bastion’s lower hall, each step striking the stone with barely restrained fury. His fists clenched at his sides, gauntlets creaking as frustration boiled beneath his polished armor. The Guardians stationed along the corridor stiffened as he passed, offering sharp salutes, but Vaelor barely acknowledged them.

  He could still hear Calthira’s voice echoing in his mind. “You may object silently.”

  The humiliation burned hotter than the magic that flared beneath the Gardens tonight. How dare she shield that outsider. And how dare she defend... her.

  He reached one of the Bastion’s lesser-used antechambers and slammed the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a single sconce flickering against the far wall. Alone now, Vaelor pulled off his gauntlets and braced both hands on the edge of a stone table, breathing hard.

  The outsider should be rotting in chains. Instead, he’s sitting at her table.

  His jaw clenched tighter. The council always spoke of balance, of the need to protect Silvermoon from within. Yet the moment true threats emerged, they hesitated, cowered behind their ancient codes.

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  And worse, she hesitated.

  Vaelor’s thoughts shifted to Narianna—how easily she’d drawn her sword on him. How she’d stepped between him and the outsider like a Guardian shielding one of her own.

  He slammed a fist into the stone, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced up his arm.

  “She’s gone soft,” he muttered. “Too close to the outsider.”

  The room pulsed faintly, and Vaelor’s eyes darted to the shadows in the corners. The magic in this place—woven deeply into the Bastion’s walls—felt stifling tonight. As if even the ley lines were watching him.

  She would betray everything for him... or for whatever madness drives her.

  He gritted his teeth, voice low. “We swore to protect Silvermoon from threats inside and out. If the council won’t act—”

  He caught himself mid-sentence. His reflection in a nearby polished shield showed a man tense, breathing heavily, teeth bared.

  “Control yourself,” he hissed under his breath.

  But the bitterness didn’t fade. The outsider’s display tonight—the uncontrolled surge of power, the leyline rupture—it had made Vaelor’s decision clear. Matrim Kaelen was dangerous. And anyone siding with him was complicit in whatever chaos would follow.

  Vaelor’s thoughts turned dark.

  If the council refuses to do what’s necessary...

  He stared at the flickering light and clenched his fists tighter.

  Then I will.