Fall From Glory

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Fintan and Gisela sat side by side on their thrones, the dias redone so that they sat center and alone, silent and tense. The air was splintered with unspoken nerves and distrust.

Ever since their last conversation and narrow misstep with Asrar, they were taking no chances misspeaking.

"Councillors!" Maralynn's voice echoed as she neatly swept in the throne room, in an obvious hurry.

"Yes?" Fintan asked, tone a mix of bored and condescending.

"The Lake of Blood is on fire!"

"What?" His attention abruptly riveted to the herald in front of him. Gisela, too, paid closer mind to the topic.

"Strange, black-colored fires. More deadly and powerful than Everblaze, and they're spreading." Her voice was tense, on edge.

Fintan leapt out of his seat. "What?!"

"Yes, even the Lake is somehow aflame and shriveling to ash beneath it," Maralynn added with an anxious twist of her hands. "It's very serious, Councillors."

"Black fire?!" Fintan exclaimed, an expression of horror working its way quickly across his face.

She nodded gravely. "Yes." 

"Are you absolutely certain? I've never heard of-"

"Yes, you have," Gisela snapped, growing tired of Fintan's lack of memory.

He whirled to her. "I have not. I am fairly certain I would remember if so."

Her tone dripped with disbelief. "Does the name Zenith ring a bell? Lucian?"

"They're dead!" Fintan argued.

"And what of their third brother, Obediah?" She countered with a cool arch of her eyebrow.

He bleached ghost white. "Any sightings of activity?"

"Not since. The starter is unclear as well," Maralynn answered.

"Fires-black fires-have appeared with no apparent reason, and we have no incentive or hint as who might have started it and why." Fintan's tone was barely controlled, reigning in his frustration.

"Unfortunately, you are correct," she confirmed in resolute agreement.

"Oh, and these fires just happen to resemble fires that only our greatest enemies could spark-enemies who may not be dead as we thought them to be." The Ancient added, his fists tightening.

"We will need twenty minutes. Let no one come to us, nor inform anyone of our absence." Gisela cut in as she strode confidently for the door.

Fintan gaped after her. "We cannot put ourselves in danger-"

"If it keeps us our throne, we will. Don't want to lose any more faith." She countered icily, not even so much as looking back.

He grumbled a curse about her irritating use of that phrase, but followed after with a brisk nod to Maralynn.

Once in the hallway, he caught up to her expeditious stride. "Are you sure this is the correct-"

"Yes, Fintan, for the second time, this is the correct path," she said. "That is, if you want to keep your throne."

"The fires!"

Her tone a cadaverous shade of patient, Gisela snapped, "They're black as night, as the fires our greatest adversaries used to be only able to spark. You're worried they're alive. I am concerned as well, but not knowing answers is worse than knowing the truth, no matter how ugly it may be."