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Her gaze danced over the massive room. The amphitheater rose up around her in increasingly larger rings of shining obsidian stone, every rounded bench therein cushioned with even darker velvet. At perfect intervals, diamond aisles cut up through the bench rows like spokes, the staircases swirling with rainbow iridescence, and she imagined it probably looked like glittering star from above.

With her at its center.

Lunara made sure to avoid the area she knew Sunestra was in. That was one person she wouldn’t be able to remain aloof over, for good reason, but there were still quite a few Council members she hadn’t yet seen.

She left off on Runex the Breathbane at the Occurrence, so she started there, slowly taking in unfamiliar faces. Cordelia didn’t exaggerate when she said most of those Lunara held responsible were gone.

Shite, was she meant to learn everyone’s names, even those in the Elder Tier? That was…never going to happen. Not in a million years and with all the repetition in the world. Lunara barely remembered to feed herself half the time.

Ah. There. Novan the Cloudbreaker. Responsible for the perpetually clear skies over Starkeep and most of the surrounding land down below, their beloved cosmos free to shine down. He’d always been slight, but he was borderline decrepit now, his white fluff of hair a comical homage to his power. She wondered what would happen to the Evesong when he died. If his magic would continue on without him as her father’s did, or if they’d have their first taste of storms in centuries.

A throat clearing echoed down from somewhere in the highest seats, a hissed shushing right after, and Lunara almost lost it. Pinching her lips between her teeth wasn’t a choice—it was absolutely necessary to keep the burst of nervous laughter from tumbling out of her.

A glance at Araxis and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

Right. Good. Yes. She simply had to cross the floor to the stairs opposite her, then make it up three steps to the first row. To that ghastly, gilded chair with the black velvet and stardust headrest.

Lunara did just that, feeling like she was outside of her own body the entire time. When she reached her place, she swallowed and turned around, refusing to think too hard about any of it. About the pressure or responsibility. About the hundreds of creatures staring at her, waiting with bated breath. About any of it.

Another pause while she adjusted the fall of her skirts, and then Lunara slowly sank into…into her throne.

Hopefully it’s more comfortable than it looks.

It wasn’t.

For all its aesthetic, the chair was hard as a rock and so deep she had to choose between supporting her back or touching the floor. Her back won out in the end, Lunara’s feet dangling and making her feel like a child at the adults’ supper table. Especially absurd when everyone else was perfectly happy sitting on their plush benches. Why did she need an entire bleeding throne? Was the blaring rock in her chest not enough to identify her as Keeper?

Add that to having the opposite view—looking down into the circular Hollow instead of standing in it—and her head was spinning.

Cordelia stood from her seat on Araxis’s other side. “We welcome our Blessed Keeper to her first official gathering of the Elder Council.”

Polite applause sounded, a collective murmur of, “Welcome, Blessed Keeper,” in its wake.

“Yes, yes, very nice,” Cordelia said. “Today’s business will be short.”

Cordelia gestured to the side, towards a smaller set of doors in the base of the Hollow, and two Sorcerit pulled them wide on her signal.

Lunara fought to breathe as the waiting party piled through, and one of the guards raised her voice above the shuffle. “Caius aht Bordoroth, Blessed of Thodelebor, Seventh Imperial Son of Stennyx aht Bordoroth and Gildat of Straelon. Thaddeus aht Bordoroth e Nacht, Titular Imperial Son of Caius aht Bordoroth and Meliora e Nacht. The Wolflords Andreus and Bestus à Bor.”

Weeping moons, she hardly recognized them. Thaddeus especially. Their mission to the cave was only a few weeks ago, but Lunara wanted to leap down into the dark depths of the Hollow and demand to know why he was suddenly so haggard. Why he was somehow bigger than ever and horridly gaunt at the same time, his face drawn. Why Caius and the other Wolflords were no better.

She knew it was bad in the Westrealm, but…she didn’t know.

Add it to the list.

Shite.

Even so, there was a twinkle in the eyes of both father and son when they noticed Lunara there, all four Wolflords bowing at the waist to acknowledge her.

“Greetings from the Westrealm, Blessed Keeper. Elder Council. Elder Tier,” Caius rumbled.

Araxis whispered in her ear, “Polite conversation is expected.”

“I would ask how you are, my friends,” she said, all too happy to be informal, “but I’m afraid your faces rather say it all.”

Caius and Thaddeus shared a look, both of them loosing a rueful chuckle.

“Ach, that’s just like you, lass.” Caius straightened his shoulders. “While it’s a comfort to know some things will always remain the same, I’m afraid we’ve not been so fortunate in Thodelebor.”