ShadowBound: The Need For Power

"So, Sylvathar has made landfall on Amthar," Tharion said, his voice even, though a shadow of suspicion lingered beneath it. "And he's giving his blood to those desperate or reckless enough to crave more power?"

"Precisely," Lucy replied, her tone sharp yet composed. "And once he amasses enough of these Gaia-infused hybrids, he intends to return to the Demon Realm—with a new force under his command—to challenge the established order and rise in their hierarchy."

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Tharion's. "And before you even entertain the thought that we fabricated this to bind Solara or Crescent into an alliance, I'd advise you to reconsider. This information came directly from a demon Galen Magna killed not long ago. Under duress, it spoke—before it died."

A tense silence followed. Tharion's gaze turned inward, clearly processing, calculating.

"I see," he said at last. "Then tell me—how do you propose we handle this? Together."

Lucy nodded once, glad he'd shifted to strategy.

"First, we must locate these hybrids and eliminate them before Sylvathar's numbers grow beyond our control," she said. "But therein lies the problem. In their human forms, there's no known method of detection. They're invisible to all scans, magic, or surveillance—unless they transform."

"That's... unsettling," said Elanora Granger softly, her expression still unreadable. "You're telling us there's no way to tell if someone is one of them?"

"Not yet," Mystica added. "Dove's method works only after a subject is suspected and physically tested. But we can't just start blood-testing everyone without triggering panic or resistance. We need subtlety."

"We're working on a magical solution—something passive," Dove chimed in, sitting up now with a glint of intrigue in her eyes. "A resonance-based detection system attuned to Sylvathar's blood. But it's... unstable. It might take time."

"And until then?" King Valemir asked, folding his hands.

"Until then," Lucy answered, "we work through intelligence and surveillance. Anyone behaving suspiciously—any unusual movements, strange abilities, or erratic changes—must be watched. Quietly. And that brings us to why I called for this summit."

She stood slowly, her presence commanding. "I propose a shared task force. One composed of elites from all three kingdoms—our best minds, best warriors, best spies. People we trust."

"To hunt," Tharion said.

"To observe first," Mystica corrected. "Then to act. Smartly and Quietly."

Donella Largh, Solara's young advisor, spoke up for the first time. "And who will lead this task force?"

Lucy didn't hesitate. "Marshal Caelum Virellan of the Crescent Kingdom."

The room shifted subtly. Eyes widened, especially among the Crescent delegation. Even King Valemir's expression flickered with surprise, while Tharion's brow arched ever so slightly.

"Caelum Virellan?" Valemir echoed, his voice carefully composed.

"Yes," Lucy affirmed. "He is, in my judgment, the most capable choice. His reputation as a brilliant tactician and unwavering leader speaks for itself. And though I reign over Tempest, I won't let pride blind me to skill that transcends borders."

She leaned back slightly. "I could've named someone from my court, and it would've been justified. But Caelum isn't just strong—he commands respect across kingdoms. If we want unity, we start with a symbol of it."

Valemir's fingers tapped once on the stone table, betraying a sliver of thought beneath his outward calm.

'She's smarter than I gave her credit for, he mused. She bypassed Galen and Magnus—Amthar's two fiercest names—and handed my kingdom the reins without ever saying the word 'power.'

Does she think I won't see it? She's not honoring Caelum—she's boxing me in. By choosing my Grand Marshal, she's publicly tied me to this task force in front of Solara's cold-eyed king. If I refuse, I insult her and cast doubt. If I agree, I own whatever comes next.

And Caelum... Caelum will accept. He lives for service. He won't question the politics—he'll carry this mission like a sacred oath.

Which means, with a single name, she's turned my knight into her sword.

Damn her. She's moved to the center of the board with nothing but poise and precision. No flattery, no spectacle—just a quiet coup. Now Solara will look to me, wondering if I've allied more closely than I let on.

Still... it's a gamble that could work in our favor. Caelum's involvement secures Crescent's place at the heart of this alliance. That's no small thing.

But make no mistake—she's playing a dangerous game. And now, so must I.'

Valemir finally spoke, his tone measured but not without weight. "Then I hope the burden placed on Caelum's shoulders yields results. If he accepts, the Crescent Kingdom stands ready to support this endeavor."

Lucy gave a small, knowing smile. "That's all I ask."

All eyes shifted to the Solara delegation, settling on King Tharion. His gaze was sharp, narrowed slightly, his silence stretching just long enough to command attention. Then, with measured calm, he spoke.

"I expected as much," he said. "After all, the Tempest and Crescent Kingdoms had already convened. This alliance, this choice—it doesn't surprise me."

He paused, letting his words linger before continuing.

"Still, I'm not blind to what's coming. Refusing to stand together now would be the same as inviting fire to my gates. So yes... I will support the decision to place Caelum Virellan at the head of this task force. But I have one condition."

Lucy and Valemir exchanged a glance, their brows rising ever so slightly.

"Go on," Valemir said.

"My son—Tharionson Magna—will be part of this task force," Tharion stated. "I'll have no stake in a campaign I cannot observe through eyes I trust."

Lucy gave a slight nod. "That won't be a problem."

Silence returned for a moment, heavy and deliberate. Tharion studied Lucy, weighing the sincerity in her voice and the currents beneath her calm exterior.

Then, finally, he gave a slow nod. "Very well. If we are to stand against a threat like Sylvathar... then Solara will stand with you."

Valemir inclined his head, his tone smooth. "Then it is settled. All three kingdoms stand united."

A subtle but unmistakable shift passed through the room. The tension didn't vanish, but it changed—sharpened into focus. This wasn't peace. It was preparation.

Dove leaned back further in her seat, folding her arms. "Then I suppose I'll need to make more of that detection solution. Which means I need more blood."

"You won't be getting it from me," Lucy said with a dry smirk.

"Oh, I wasn't volunteering you. I'll need access to demon remains, or better yet, a live one—preferably wounded and compliant." Dove's grin was almost mischievous. "Think your task force can get me that, Your Majesty?"

Valemir chuckled softly, the first sign of warmth from him. "If Caelum can't, no one can."

Lucy leaned forward, her voice returning to command. "Then this is what we'll do: each kingdom will send its elite to join the task force. Caelum Virellan leads it. Tharionson Magna will represent Solara. I'll have Galen Magna as my contribution. The Crescent Kingdom can select one more aside from Caelum."

Valemir nodded slowly. "I will send Sylas Wynrow."

Tharion raised an eyebrow. "The Ice Fortress?"

Valemir smiled faintly. "A younger one, but trained by her. Quick and sharp."

"Fine," Tharion said. "Then let's give this force a name. If it's going to be a blade that cuts through Sylvathar's forces, it needs more than numbers. It needs identity."

Lucy tilted her head, thoughtful. "A name, hmm?"

Dove chimed in. "How about 'The Triumverate Vanguard'? It sounds dramatic enough for what you're doing."

Mystica snorted. "Too long. They'll be dead before finishing the title in battle."

Valemir's voice cut through. "Call them The Convergence. A meeting point of kingdoms, purpose, and force."

Tharion nodded. "Simple. Strong. Fitting."

Lucy smirked. "Then it's decided. The Convergence will be formed within the week. Resources will be pulled, intelligence gathered, and the hunt for Sylvathar's abominations begins."

She stood, the rest following suit.

"This summit is over. Now we go to war."

***

At the esteemed halls of Dark Knight Academy, Magnus strolled leisurely through the corridor, a generous bundle of cream puffs cradled in his arms. He hummed a carefree tune, completely unbothered by the world around him.

"Mmm… these cream puffs are the closest thing to heaven," he muttered with a smirk. "Well, second only to a gorgeous woman who's a beast on the battlefield by night." A low, perverse chuckle escaped his lips.

"This whole babysitting assignment is a pain in the ass," he grumbled mid-bite, crumbs dusting his armor. "What in the seven hells was Mystica thinking, giving me this? I'm seconds away from passing out from pure boredom."

His boots echoed softly against the stone floor as a mischievous spark lit his eyes. "Maybe I should crash one of the classrooms and mess with the students a little… though," he paused, face wrinkling in disgust, "books and lectures make my brain bleed. Bad idea."

Then a flicker of inspiration struck. "Ah—but if I just hang around the Princess's class, I'll be doing my job and avoiding all the dull crap. Two birds, one puff."

With a childlike skip, he turned on his heel. "Alright, Princess," he chimed in a sing-song voice, "your ever-watchful, completely unseen guardian is en route." And with that, he vanished down the corridor, humming once more, cream puffs still in hand.