The Council Chamber is much colder this time. It isn't just the temperature; it's the oppressive weight of the silence hanging over the obsidian table.

  Lady Seraphina sits at the head, her posture as rigid as the stone walls behind her. Elder Corin stands to her right, unusually somber. Master Lyra is already there, her eyes glowing with the faint, steady light of a prepared mental link. At the far end sits Master Voren, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles are stark white against the deep purple of his robes.

  Tara sits in the center of the room. He remains in his wolf form for now; it feels more "intimidating yet cooperative" than his natural pyramid shape.

  "You can take your leave, Tara," Seraphina begins, her voice cutting through the air like a localized ice storm. "Please ensure the safety of our mages while we arrange a formal retrieval party."

  Tara bows his wolf head slightly and leaves. Elara escorts him out of the Council Chamber and into the quiet hallway.

  Inside the chamber, Seraphina turns her gaze to Voren, who looks as if he's swallowed something incredibly bitter. "A situation that shouldn't have been necessary, Voren, because those mages shouldn't have been in that forest to begin with."

  "I took initiative!" Voren snaps, though the usual venom in his voice has been diluted by defeat. "The kingdom needs power, and an anomaly like that—"

  "The Council will decide your fate once the mages are back," Seraphina interrupts, her tone final. "Until then, Voren, you are barred from any guild operations involving the forest territory."

  Voren stands, his face a mask of cold fury. "You are making a grave mistake, Seraphina. That creature doesn't need to be treated like a citizen, much less a guild member. It's an object."

  "Only time will tell. Right now, you have other worries. Prepare a show-cause report on your actions," Seraphina replies, not even looking up from the map spread before her. "Now, leave us."

  Voren exits the chamber, the heavy doors closing with a resonant thud that echoes through the halls. The silence that follows is heavy with the weight of the new world they've just invited inside.

  "Elder Corin," Seraphina says, her voice softening slightly. "Can you take care of the mages for us, please?"

  ---

  Elara leads Tara through the winding corridors of the upper Guild, her pace brisk and efficient. They reach the Silken Gardens, a sprawling terrace filled with bioluminescent flora and ancient stone arches that overlook the city of Valdris.

  "Wait here for Elder Corin," Elara says, gesturing toward a circular stone gazebo. "He'll be with you shortly."

  Tara shifts back into his pyramid form as soon as she leaves. The relief of shedding the fur is immediate, his facets pulsing with a soft, rhythmic light. He settles onto a smooth stone bench, his 360-degree vision scanning the gardens. It is perfect: isolated, quiet, and far removed from the cold obsidian of the council room.

  A few minutes later, Elder Corin arrives, his steps light on the grass.

  "Tara!" he says, his voice projecting directly through the mental link. "I need you to reach out. Can you find the mages? I want to be sure they've cleared the treeline."

  *Yes,* Tara thinks, his mental voice steady and clear. *They are moving through the shadow of the outer wall. They're almost at the gates.*

  Corin's face tightens with focus. "Good. We need to reach them immediately." He looks at the small, orange cat sitting behind him. "Fortune. Let's do it."

  Fortune lets out a sound that starts as a purr and ends as a bone-rattling growl. The cat's small frame begins to expand, muscles rippling under fur that turns into iridescent, golden scales. In seconds, the "cat" is the size of a carriage, a magnificent creature of light and shadow.

  "Get on," Corin commands, vaulting onto the beast's broad back.

  Tara maneuvers himself onto the creature's flank with a quick dash. *Feels good to be a rider for once,* he thinks, his crystalline edges catching the moonlight.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Fortune does not use the gate. With a single, powerful beat of its wings, it launches itself straight off the garden's balcony. They dive into the night air, soaring over the inner walls and clearing the Guild’s massive gates in a single, blurring arc of gold and silver.

  They touch down softly on the dusty road leading into the forest, just beyond the reach of the Guild's torches. The silence of the night is broken by the heavy panting of horses and the clatter of boots from the treeline.

  Five mages emerge from the shadows, their robes tattered and their faces frozen in masks of exhaustion. At their head is Kaelen, his staff cracked and dark. His eyes widen in fear at the sight of the massive creature waiting for them.

  "Elder Corin?" he gasps, his voice barely a whisper. "We're... we're sorry."

  Elder Corin looks at the pyramid by his side, then at the mages. He notices the subtle lingering energy of the forest—the wolves that had escorted them this far were melting back into the darkness, their task complete.

  "I'm here to bring you home," Corin says, sliding off Fortune's back and holding out a hand. "Let's get you back to the Guild."

  The mages climb onto Fortune, their movements slow and heavy with fatigue.

  "Thank you," Kaelen says, his voice thick with relief as he settles onto the golden scales. "We owe you a debt we can never repay."

  "You should probably thank the wolves that brought you here," Corin replies with a small smile. He turns to the pyramid. "What about your friends, Tara? And the other... you?"

  *They will be on their way back to the den,* Tara replies. *The forest is their home.*

  Corin smiles, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "I'll take care of it. They won't be troubled."

  At the side entrance of the tower, Elara is waiting as promised. She looks relieved as she sees Kaelen and the others, though her professional mask remains firmly in place. She signals to a group of healers waiting behind her with glowing staves.

  "Elder Corin," she says, nodding respectfully. "I'll take them from here. The infirmary is prepared."

  "Good," Corin replies, his voice reflecting a deep weariness. "They've seen enough for one night. Tell Seraphina they were exactly where Tara said they'd be."

  With the mages safely handed over, Corin leads Tara toward the outer courtyard. Unolf is sitting there, his tail thumping against the cobblestones with rhythmic impatience. He looks like a massive, silver-toothed statue until he spots Tara, then lets out a soft, welcoming huff.

  *You're late,* Unolf’s pack-bond pulses with a hint of a grumble. *The stone here is cold, and the air is stale.*

  *Professional duties, Unolf,* Tara projects back. *I hope I wasn't too long. Consider it the price of living in 'civilization.'*

  "Alright, everyone," Corin calls out, beckoning them toward the city's outskirts. "Let me show you my hut."

  The 'hut' turns out to be a gross understatement. As they leave the city walls behind and follow a winding trail through the dense forest, the sound of rushing water begins to roar in the distance. They round a bend to find a sprawling, three-story mansion of white stone and dark wood, built directly into a cliffside. A massive waterfall cascades nearby, its mist catching the moonlight and creating a permanent, ethereal glow around the property.

  *If this is a hut, then I'm a triangle,* Tara thinks, taking in the sheer scale of the building. *Wait, I actually am a triangle. I need better metaphors.*

  "It's not much," Corin lies cheerfully as he leads them toward the front doors. "But it's far away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the politics of the guild. And it's home."

  ********* Chapter end *********