The corridor leading to the strategy room always seemed long—but that morning, following Exelia's hard, hurried steps, it seemed endless. Each beat of the general's boots against the floor echoed off the stone walls as if announcing something inevitable, something everyone felt approaching, even without knowing what it was.

Kael walked close behind, wiping the dried sweat from his brow, his muscles still tense from the fight. Amelia and Irelia walked beside him, silent, their expressions too serious for those who, just minutes before, had been trying to tear his arm off with magic and sword.

And then the double doors opened.

The strategy room of the royal castle was neither majestic nor grand. It was old. Ancient. A relic formed of black stone, silver runes, and carved columns that supported the ceiling. And in the center…

A monumental map of the continent, suspended by magic, hovering above the stone table like a living specter. The borders pulsed from time to time—a faint beat of mana, like a weary heart.

Eleanor was there.

The Witch Queen.

Kael's grandmother.

Absolute monarch.

And, at that moment, she looked like a woman carrying centuries of weight on her shoulders.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her rigid shoulders betrayed tension. The eyes that had always held wisdom—and a touch of stubbornness—were opaque.

Sylphie stood beside her, silent, impeccable posture, but with a shadow of worry so evident that Kael felt his stomach clench.

"Grandma…" he called, entering. "What's wrong?"

Eleanor took a few seconds to look up. When she finally did, there was something there—something Kael hadn't seen since he was a child: fear.

She didn't answer.

She only glanced discreetly at Sylphie.

It was the elf who took the lead. She pointed to the map. The northern region began to glow in icy blue—Skaldi, the kingdom of the eternal ice mountains.

Sylphie's voice was firm… but slow, as if each word cost a piece of air.

"As we already knew… the Kingdom of Skaldi was attacked. Initial reports said the king had been captured and probably executed. But… apparently… that wasn't quite it."

Kael frowned, crossing his arms.

"The king is still alive," she continued. "And he's leading a resistance. A small one, but organized… and surprisingly efficient."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"Right… So what?"

Sylphie took a deep breath. She looked at Eleanor. Then at Kael. Her voice wavered for the first time.

"The king reported that…"

She swallowed hard.

"They're witches."

The word fell on the room like a stone weight. Kael felt a shiver run down his neck.

He knew what that meant. He knew what it implied. But seeing his grandmother's expression… the ice in her eyes…

He turned to Eleanor, as if he needed to confirm what—deep down—he didn't want to believe.

"Grandma… this…"

Eleanor finally spoke.

Her voice low.

Trembling.

Something that should never exist in the queen of witches.

"Black Witches."

The silence that followed seemed alive.

Fierce.

Dangerous.

Kael felt his heart clench.

Black Witches.

Those who had been banished from history—and from memory—for a reason. A reason so grave that not even academics dared to research it.

The deserters.

The corrupted ones.

Those who abandoned the Witch Code to follow forbidden magic—magic that drives you mad, that devours, that consumes.

Irelia was the first to break the silence.

"This… can't be right." Her voice was low, but it carried disbelief. "The lineage of the Black Witches is extinct. Extinct. It doesn't exist—"

"It does." Eleonor interrupted, firmly, but without raising her voice. "I myself ensured it was extinct… but not completely destroyed."

Everyone stared at her.

Exelia narrowed her eyes.

"Your Majesty… this means that—"

"That someone survived." Eleonor finished. "Or that someone was remade. Or that… someone was awakened."

Sylphie stepped forward.

"Whatever the explanation… it's not good. According to the King of Skaldi's message, the army that took the capital uses blood magic. Sacrificial magic. Ancient magic that hasn't been seen since…"

She stopped.

Kael finished, his voice lower than he intended:

"...since the Fall of Nocthene."

The name sent shivers down everyone's spine.

Eleonor took a few steps back to the edge of the table, where a small rune glowed faintly—a rune of direct communication, exclusive to monarchs. She ran her hand over it, activating the magical projection.

And then the map expanded.

Skaldi appeared in detail.

Mountains.

Villages.

Fortresses.

And, in the center, the conquered capital—Helvengar.

A black mist hung over it. Dense. Almost palpable. As if something living were coiled around the city.

"That…" Kael murmured. "That doesn't look like mana."

"It isn't." Eleonor replied.

The projection widened further—revealing a black tower standing in the middle of the city, where the king's palace once stood.

The tower pulsed.

One beat.

Then another.

Alive.

Amelia took an instinctive step back.

"That… is a tree?" she murmured, shuddering.

Sylphie shook her head.

"No. That's a Root Seal. Made of bones."

Kael felt his stomach churn.

Eleonor tightened her grip on the rune.

"The resistance has been sending coded messages in the last few hours. The king claims the invading witches are building something inside the tower. Something he described as 'a womb'."

"Oh my…" Irelia whispered, horrified.

"To create what?" Amelia asked, her voice wavering.

Eleanor looked away, and that startled Kael more than anything else.

"We don't know."

Kael massaged his forehead.

"Okay… so… what's the plan?"

His grandmother stared at him strangely. A way that mixed pride, fear, and… something else. Something sorrowful.

"The decision was made this morning. Even before the message arrived. We were going to act anyway, but now… now it's urgent."

She turned to Sylphie.

The elf took a deep breath.

"The witch kingdom will intervene directly."

Kael blinked.

"Intervene… how?"

"We're going to Skaldi," Eleanor declared firmly. "We're going to liberate the kingdom. We're going to destroy the tower. And we're going to hunt down the source of this dark magic."

Kael opened his mouth to reply, but Eleanor raised her hand. "But first… there's something you need to understand."

She approached him—and never before had Eleanor seemed so human.

"If they really are Black Witches… you, Kael, are at the top of their list."

He paled.

"Me?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "The Black Witches have always… always… hunted bloodlines of power. And well… you have the bloodline of the Witch Queen and the Witch of Chaos. Your mother was also always hunted by them, despite always easily decimating them."

The air grew heavy.

The shadow behind Kael stirred.

Sylphie took an instinctive step closer to him, as if she wanted to ensure he wouldn't be dragged away at that very second.

Eleanor continued:

"You are the first descendant of our lineage… and they know it. If they want to use forbidden magic to resurrect an ancestral witch, to strengthen the tower… or for some ritual…"

She swallowed hard.

The Queen herself swallowed hard.

"…you are the perfect body."

The world seemed to freeze.

Kael felt the words hit him like blades.

Irelia and Amelia turned to him with expressions of pure shock.

Sylphie…

Her expression was pain.

Pure.

Deep.

"That won't happen." Kael said firmly, even though his heart was racing.

Eleanor didn't smile. Didn't disagree. Didn't calm down.

She simply said:

"That's precisely why… you will lead the expedition."

Kael blinked slowly.

"I… what?"

Amelia let out a disbelieving syllable.

Irelia narrowed her eyes.

Sylphie pressed her lips together.

Eleanor didn't move a single hair as she finished the sentence that sounded like a divine decree. But Kael felt its weight as if he had been struck by a wall.

"You're going to Skaldi to do reconnaissance. Take whomever you want."

The silence that followed wasn't one of shock—it was one of pure processing, as if each person in that room had received an absurd amount of information to absorb at once. The air seemed dense, heavy, vibrating with the invisible tension that was building between the four young people and the Queen.

Kael opened his mouth, half ready to answer, half ready to protest—he really didn't know which of the two he would do. But Eleanor raised her hand before any sound could escape.

"And before you say anything, Kael… I'm going to call your mother."

The entire room froze.

Even Kael's shadow seemed to stop moving.

Amelia's eyes widened.

Irelia automatically took a step back—survival instinct.

Exelia frowned as if calculating how many spells she would need to contain Kael's mother's strength, if necessary.

Sylphie… Sylphie turned livid.

Kael put a hand to his head.

"…Oh no. No."

He sighed. "Grandma, please, don't do this to—"

"I have an obligation to do this," Eleanor interrupted, with the firmness of someone who had reigned for generations. "As soon as she finds out I sent you ahead alone, she'll be extremely furious. And, considering who we're talking about…"

She took a deep breath and shook her hand, as if banishing a disturbing thought.

"…it's better that she's furious with me now, here, with walls reinforced by primordial seals, than furious when you're already in Skaldi and decide to open a dimensional rift in the continent to pull you back."

Amelia cleared her throat very quietly.

"Can she really do that?"

Sylphie replied in a deathly serious whisper:

"She already did."

Irelia slowly turned her neck to face Kael, as if she were looking at a mythical creature.

"And you survived?"

"I was a baby," Kael said, his shoulders slumped. "I had no choice."