Page 66 of Awakened Destiny
I steal a glance at him. His face remains impassive, but his eyes burn. I see his fingers flex once, twice, as if reaching for the weapons he doesn’t carry—a gesture of restraint rather than weakness.
A different Council member tries to rally. He straightens his silk cravat with trembling fingers. "This display is impressive, but meaningless. We weathered the Shadow War. We survived the Uprising. We will survive you."
But the confidence in his words doesn't match his eyes. They dart between me, Callen on my right with his new crown catching the light, and Lochan standing like death itself on my left.
"You've done more than survive," Callen says coolly. "You've thrived on lies. On murder. On sacrifice." He steps forward, and the Council members lean back instinctively. "The fae crown rests on my head now. My father's body is cold."
"You don't understand the burden we—" A woman draped in shimmering fabric and dripping with jewels, her hair piled high on her head, begins.
"Be quiet." I don't raise my voice, but shadows curl at the edges of my words.
Lochan shifts again, his shoulder now almost touching mine. I sense his awareness, how he catalogs each Council member's position, their movements, their weaknesses. Though he's focused on them, I feel his attention partly on me too—not controlling, just there. Supporting.
"The Council was created to protect our world," Lord Finnegan argues, desperation making his voice crack. "To maintain balance—"
"To maintain your power," Lochan cuts in. "You killed my parents because they knew the truth. You've hunted shadow-wielders for generations because you feared what they might become."
"What she has become," whispers the woman, staring at me with naked terror.
I see it then—the full realization dawning across their faces. The Council has existed for centuries, ruling through manipulation and fear, dividing the supernatural world against itself. And in less than five minutes, the three of us have stripped away their masks and authority.
"Leave," Callen commands.
Lord Finnegan attempts one last stand. "The other families won't accept this coup. You're just children playing with—"
I laugh, and shadows dance along the ceiling. "Is that what you told yourselves when you ordered the execution of entire families? When you framed the Raven King? When you sentenced people like me to death for the magic in our blood?"
I let a curl of power snake toward him, watching him flinch away.
"I think," I say softly, "you should consider your next words carefully. They might be your last."
I don't need to look at Lochan to know his expression, watchful, ready, committed. The three of us stand united, unbreakable.
And across the table, the Council crumbles.
The bejeweled woman snatches her bag, knocking over her chair in her haste. The rest follow in a flurry of movement—silk robes tangling, decorative medals catching on velvet seats. The polished order of their meeting transforms into chaos as status and privilege dissolve under raw fear.
Lord Finnegan attempts dignity, buttoning his jacket with trembling fingers. He knocks over a crystal decanter as he backs away. The liquid spreads across ancient documents, dissolving centuries of corrupt decrees in seconds. Fitting.
"You'll regret this," the silver-haired woman hisses as she passes me. I meet her eyes steadily, refusing to blink.
"No more than you'll regret what you did to the children of shadow-wielders."
As they flee, they jostle each other, these powerful beings who've never had to rush or fight. Their practiced composure shatters. Some abandon belongings rather than spend another moment in my presence. Others cast desperate glances back, as if memorizing our faces for retribution.
Yet we remain calm, the eye of the storm.
When the last of them vanishes through the doorway, the enormous chamber falls silent except for our breathing. Papers lie scattered across the floor. A chair lies overturned. Their fear lingers like a scent.
Callen turns to me. The cold calculation I first saw in him has softened, revealing something I couldn't have anticipated when we met—genuine respect.
"They would have torn this realm apart trying to control you." He reaches for my hand but stops, waiting for my permission. I extend my fingers toward his. "Instead, you will be what brings us together. A true queen."
"I didn't ask for this." My voice sounds smaller than I want.
"Nobody worthy of power ever does." His fingers close around mine. "That's why it must be you, Brigid. Not just because of your bloodline or your magic, but because of who you are."
Lochan shifts his weight beside us. "We should secure the records before they destroy evidence."
