Elara didn't know what this room was, only that it sat hidden behind three layers of misdirection. There were no signs, no guards, no alarms. It was as if no one needed protection from the top of the chain.
She crouched low behind a panel lip, eyes fixed on the dimmed glass pane. Through it, she saw the circle—seven chairs, equidistant, set into the floor like fixtures. Each held a figure that was visually carved: unmoving, watchful, and dressed in a way that she could never imitate.
A projection pulsed in the center: three huge buildings being broken and rebuilt on a loop. Steel ribs of infrastructure folded inward.
A woman with long hair, legs crossed, spoke first. Her voice came sharp but honey-slick:
"For a group that preaches restraint," she murmured, "we made quite the mess."
A man opposite her didn't look up. His posture was exact. His voice flatter than his expression.
"We didn't."
"They were hit without warning. No breach records. No survivors."
All seven members of the group had been engaged in conversation, to avoid being noticed, Elara ducked down from the window.
"Not one?"
A different voice responded—this one calmer, more measured:
"I can't say as far as kynenn, but no instructors. Not in any of the three Foundations."
Elara stiffened. Three? It's been no more than two days since they came to the third sector, and that'd only been the second. Elara felt her cheekbone begin to rise, her eye twitched under tension.
"So someone finally did what the outsiders always begged for."
A quiet, flat scoff cut in.
"Incompetent rodents. They just started something."
The woman from before gave a small, fond-sounding laugh.
"And rodents multiply."
"Let them. Let them crawl up from the cracks. We'll step on them when they matter."
Elara's gaze tracked the speakers. She couldn't tell which name belonged to which face, but the hierarchy was obvious. They didn't debate.
Then something flickered across the projection—a paused frame. Elara's face. Midstep. Her badge was caught in a scan.
"Speaking of," one said dryly, "we've got company."
Someone laughed again—low, indulgent. "Sector Three survivors. Bolder than I gave them credit for."
"Some dogs come back to their masters," said the flat-voiced man. "Maybe she'll save us a headache."
"You mean—"
"If he starts asking questions, it becomes our problem," the flat voice cut the other off.
Another pause.
"Screw him," said the colder woman.
Elara shifted back from the wall, breath tight behind her ribs. Her mind moved faster than her pulse—faster than caution wanted it to.
She hadn't caught everything, couldn't place each voice, but the tone was clear. Cold. Self-assured. Distant from consequence. Whoever they were, they spoke like the blood hadn't been fresh enough. As if they were but so insignificant.
She blinked, eyes adjusting as she eased away from the panel lip. Her fingers hovered over the door's release mechanism.
Three Foundations. They are trying to cut costs, kill us off for their leisure.
She didn't know what she expected to find up here. Monsters yes, but some things didn't require surprise to hold its impact. What she found was proud of their wrong doings, yet elegant. Seven shadows hidden behind confidence and white light.
She thumbed the release.
The door slid open softly, a slow arc of pressureless air, soft as a sigh. The chamber didn't react. No heads turned. The conversation had already ended.
Seven sets of eyes fell on her like passing weather. And of course, none were surprised. Nearly intrigued they were.
She stepped forward anyway.
Elara's voice cracked out, raw: "Where is Hikari?"
Silence. Then a lazy exchange of glances, amusement playing at the edge of a few mouths.
When no one answered, something in Elara felt disrespected even further. She charged—no plan or finesse. Her fist flashed out at the nearest figure: a woman with obsidian eyes.
The woman stepped aside, barely acknowledging the swing.
"This has to happen now?" one of the men muttered, side-eying the exchange.
A woman at the far left smirked, "You want it to stop, stop it yourself."
Elara attacked again, desperate. The council woman blocked her, hardly wasting effort—she didn't even bother to stand. "Darling, you must calm down. You'll tire yourself out. We've survived worse tantrums."
"That's generous," another woman said, dry. "You don't show me that much compassion"
Elara gasped, her momentum already fading. They watched as if witnessing a child's outburst.
Someone finally sighed.
"Fine. Rhea—deal with it. I can only imagine how bad you want to."
Rhea's eyes stayed locked into the action, her irritation clear.
"Last time I did, you all complained about the mess. Handle your own problems for once."
A third voice, bored, chimed in:
"Why not just have security escort her? We're not animals."
Elara wasn't done. She continued her barrage on the elegant-looking woman. She punched straight, only to be deflected time and time again.
"This is the one who was going to solve your problem? Are you serious, Callum?" she called out to a man—the tallest of everyone here—sitting at the head of the table.
"At this rate, I doubt she could," He replied. "Are you hiding your powers, Kynenn girl?"
They didn't even raise their voices. Elara stood, breathing hard, fists shaking. The council's indifference was worse than hostility.
And that fueled her anger even more.
Elara jabbed with her right, immediately leaping into the air, throwing her back leg toward the woman's head. It connected with her wrist as she threw her down. Elara rolled, swept at her feet, narrowly missing—and as the woman landed, she kicked again, directly into her abdomen.
The girl Elara had kicked was furious—but before she could retaliate, a blue, gelatinous arm shot across the room. It wrapped around Elara like a whip and yanked her off her feet, slamming her across the table and into the ground. The arm retracted just as quickly, dissolving back into a man's side.
"Relax, Eden," he said coolly. "We don't need you sending us to the hospital too."
Eden didn't back down. Her glare stayed locked on Elara, eyes blazing.
"Well," she growled, "if that bitch isn't dead in thirty seconds, I've got no problem taking the whole staff down with her."
"I can't have you doing that now," he replied, tone still maddeningly calm.
Eden turned toward him. "Grant, sweetheart, do you actually think you could stop me?"
He didn't flinch. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I would love to."