Page 56 of Fallen Nocturne

The red rain is coming.

Part II

A Court of Wicked Beasts

Chapter 8 Rhianelle

Istand in Aelfheim’s council chamber with my hands folded in front of me, trying to keep them from shaking.

Every eye in the room is on me. War commanders and Aldarelfs from all thirty-three regions fill the chamber, faces I have known for years alongside faces I barely recognize, all waiting for me to speak.

The task before me feels heavier than any crown. I must tell them about Sanguisyl, the Red Rain. I must look into the faces of those responsible for protecting our people and explain that Avalon possesses a weapon capable of erasing an entire city in five seconds.

At least Rainer is here. My uncle stands to my right, solid and reassuring. Shade lurks somewhere in the shadows near the back. I can’t see him but I know he is there. That helps.

What doesn’t help is the vampire.

Arescaine stands against the back wall, half-hidden in the dim light. He shouldn’t be here. A vampire at an elven war council meeting feels like inviting a wolf into the sheep pen. Several of the Aldarelfs keep glancing at him, their expressions ranging from suspicion to outright hostility.

I don’t blame them.

The Fae King’s wyvern riders had attacked the capital in the last major offensive, burning it to ruin and leaving it for dead. The grand hall where we used to meet is gone. Cobbled together from what remains, this room is half original stone and half hastily erected wooden scaffolding covered in canvas. Through gaps in the walls I can see the ruined city beyond. Blackened buildings, crumbled walls, streets still choked with debris.

My people are rebuilding.

Will it matter? Will any of it matter when Sanguisyl comes?

I clear my throat.

“Thank you all for coming,” I say. Though my stomach twists with nerves, my voice remains steady. “I know the journey was difficult for many of you. But I’ve called this council because I’ve learned something. Something that changes everything.”

The chamber falls utterly still.

“I have intelligence about the Fae King’s forces,” I continue, forcing myself not to look away from them. “About a weapon he possesses. One that we need to prepare for.”

“What kind of weapon?” Lord Nemarion, Aldarelf of the Eastern March, leans forward. His kind eyes are now sharp with concern.

I take a breath.

“Prince Finnbheara, the Fae King’s son, rides a wyvern unlike any other.” I pause, trying to find words for something impossible. “Sanguisyl carries a power capable of destroying everything in its path. I’ve been told it erased an entire city in seconds.”

A tense silence settles over the council.

Then everyone starts talking at once.

“That’s impossible—”

“A wyvern that can destroy a city?”

“Your Highness, surely this is an exaggeration—”

“Order!” Seneschal Kearne cuts through the chaos. “Let Her Highness speak.”

They quiet, but I can see the disbelief on their faces.

“I know it sounds impossible,” I say. “But my source witnessed a demonstration. Every building was destroyed. The walls, the streets, everything within the city was leveled. Even the ground was reduced to ash and glass.”

The silence that follows is heavier. Understanding begins to sink in.