The room was warm, lit by the soft glow of the hearth. The flames crackled and danced, casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls. Fenar stood near the edge of a sturdy wooden table, his posture straight and commanding, the crisp lines of his military uniform emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. The insignia on his chest gleamed faintly in the firelight, a testament to his rank and experience. His eyes, honed by years of discipline, focused intently on Celyne.


    She, in turn, sat with an effortless grace in a high-backed chair near the fire, idly fanning herself. The rich silks of her gown shifted with the firelight, their muted colors betraying none of the sharpness that gleamed in her brilliant green eyes.


    “She has arrived, then?” Fenar’s voice was a low rumble, precise and measured.


    Celyne snapped her fan shut with a quick flick of her wrist. “Last night. A most dramatic entrance—straight into the bay off Rothmoor.”


    “Dramatic, or calculated?” Fenar shot back. “It’s no coincidence she landed in his domain.”


    “Of course not,” Celyne replied smoothly, rising to her feet. She took a few measured steps toward the fire, her gaze fixed on the flames. “Tirian never could resist making an entrance. Theatrics are his specialty.”


    “Dropping her into the water is more than theatrics,” Fenar said, his tone growing sharper. “It’s a message. A baited hook to draw us in.”


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    Celyne’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he underestimated us.” She turned to face him, her tone gaining a sharper edge. “You think I divested my essence so casually? Every move has been accounted for.”


    Fenar crossed his arms over his chest, his polished boots clicking faintly as he shifted his stance. “You’ve gambled everything on this, Celyne. And for what? A stranger? Someone untested, unknown? If Tirian has any sway over her, she’ll be our undoing.”


    “And if he doesn’t?” Celyne countered, lifting her chin. “If she’s truly untethered? Imagine what she could become in the right hands.”


    His scowl deepened, but his words were quieter now, deliberate. “And if she’s a liability?”


    “Then she’s dealt with,” Celyne said simply. “Like any other piece that doesn’t serve the board.”


    The words hung heavy between them, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. Fenar’s gaze was unreadable as he studied her, his stance tense but resolute.


    “You’re too willing to risk everything on her,” he said at last. “If this fails, it’ll cost you more than just a piece.”


    Celyne’s expression softened for a brief moment, though the steel in her eyes remained. “All the best moves require risk, Fenar. And we’re running out of time. Tirian plays his games, but we have an advantage he can’t claim. We control the ground she stands on.”


    Fenar let out a low grunt, his skepticism tempered by duty. “We watch her, then. If she survives the storm, maybe she’ll be worth the trouble. But if Tirian makes his move—”


    “We’ll be ready,” Celyne interrupted, her voice firm. “He’s not the only one who can play this game.”


    Fenar nodded, though his hesitation lingered in the air. “We’ll see, Celyne. We’ll see.”