“Yes, child. I am talking about your little fortress on the plain.” Thaldruna’s voice carried a strange softness as she glanced at Elysian, her eyes studying his reaction. She gave a slight nod, then sighed as if the weight of time pressed on her shoulders. “These fools here have decided to reclaim ownership of that fortress,” she said, her words hanging like an executioner’s blade. After a pause that felt like a lifetime, she added, “Though I stopped them for now, the truth is... I see no wrong in their intentions.”

  The words hit Elysian like a hammer. The room felt as if it tilted beneath him, the vast chamber of wood closing in with suffocating weight. For a moment, the world seemed distant, muffled, as if he were underwater.

  ‘Grimwatch is surrounded? What about Bran? Osric? Captain Hugo—and the soldiers? Are they alive?’

  The edges of his vision blurred. His pulse roared in his ears, his heartbeat quickening with every unanswered question.

  ‘She’s just trying to frighten me, right? That’s not true. It can’t be.’

  Elysian’s breathing quickened, chest heaving as the cold claws of realization sank deeper. Panic threatened to seize him entirely, but then a flicker of something sharper, more dangerous, flared in his chest—resolve.

  He forced himself to meet Thaldruna’s gaze, his body rigid as he straightened, his fists trembling at his sides. Her expression hadn’t shifted. The same kindly, grandmotherly smile played across her lips, serene and maddeningly patient, as if this were all some casual parlor discussion. But to Elysian, it felt like she was peeling him apart, studying his every twitch, savoring his unraveling.

  The tension snapped. “Did you save my life just to hold me hostage?” His voice cracked, rising louder than he intended, shaking with raw emotion. Fear still coiled in the corners of his mind, but it was overshadowed now by a fiery determination.

  Elysian’s words echoed in the council chamber, his defiance almost absurd beneath the towering presence of the Matriarch and the gathered trolls. Yet he stood his ground, every fiber of his being screaming for answers, for action. For something that could save his people.

  “Child, I don’t like that tone you’re using with the Matriarch,” Vrakdur growled, his voice sharp, his heavy brow furrowing at the perceived disrespect.

  Under normal circumstances, Elysian would have apologized immediately. A careful, measured response could keep him alive, and allies were certainly hard to find in this place. But this situation wasn’t normal. Not anymore. His emotions were a flood, sweeping away caution. To him, they were no longer potential allies—they were the enemy.

  “So, how should I act?” His words came quickly, biting. He glared at Vrakdur, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Would you prefer I bow and scrape? Maybe I should thank you—the ones who’ve surrounded my people and invaded our land? Or,” he added, his voice rising, “should I express my deepest gratitude to those keeping me as a hostage in exchange for Grimwatch?”

  Vrakdur’s eyes widened, shock flickering into fury as his lips curled into a snarl. The massive troll leaned forward, his presence casting a shadow that could have silenced any lesser man. But before he could retort, Thaldruna raised a single hand.

  The Matriarch’s gesture was as graceful as it was commanding, a quiet wave that cut through the tension like a blade. Vrakdur hesitated, his jaw tightening as his growl rumbled low in his throat, but he obeyed, retreating with a nod. He didn’t dare challenge the Matriarch’s authority.

  “You are not a hostage, child,” Thaldruna said softly, her voice as calm and unshakable as a mountain. There was no anger in her tone, no affront at Elysian’s outburst, only that maddening patience that seemed to see through him entirely.

  Elysian’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he said, his tone razor-edged with disbelief. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Thaldruna’s lips curved into a chuckle, low and rich. “Believe what you like,” she said, tilting her head with a wry smile. “The truth remains unchanged. Besides”—her voice shifted, playful, her brow arching in mock amusement—“do you truly think we need you as a hostage to claim that fortress?”

  Her words struck like a cold wind, sharp and undeniable. Elysian froze, his retort caught in his throat. He looked away, his gaze falling to the wooden floor beneath his feet.

  ‘She’s right. They don’t need me. If they wanted Grimwatch, they’d already have it. Even if my father were here with every soldier in the kingdom, it wouldn’t matter. We can’t match their strength—their power.’

  The weight of that realization pressed on him, stealing the air from his lungs. He felt his defiance waver, crumbling beneath the enormity of the trolls’ power.

  Elysian sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and bitter acceptance. But even as despair threatened to take hold, something deep within him refused to yield. Slowly, he raised his head, meeting Thaldruna’s gaze with renewed determination.

  “You’re right,” Elysian said quietly, his voice steadier now. “You don’t need me as a hostage to take Grimwatch. But that just leaves me with more questions.” His jaw tightened, his eyes sharp with purpose. “Why did you save my life? Why am I here? And why are you invading my land?”

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  “Your land?” Thaldruna’s laughter erupted, deep and resonant, filling the council chamber. It was a sound of genuine amusement, sharp and cutting. Elysian froze, caught off guard by her reaction, but it wasn’t just him. Every troll in the room seemed just as surprised. Some flinched, their alarmed expressions betraying a subtle unease. Elysian noticed it—noticed how even these towering, powerful beings shrank slightly in the presence of her mirth.

  Thaldruna finally stilled, a lingering chuckle rumbling in her throat. “Ah, how delightful,” she said, shaking her head as if brushing off an old memory. “It seems I’ve forgotten the sheer shamelessness of you humans—especially those from the cities and empires.” Her gaze pinned him, sharp yet somehow amused. “Child, we are not invading your land.” The Matriarch paused, letting the words linger like a blade suspended in the air. “That fortress has stood there long before your king had the audacity to claim it. We simply allowed your people to occupy it. We didn’t fight for it, true—but that does not make it yours.”

  Her smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “After all, humans are so... fleeting. You live your short, flickering lives, and then you’re gone. Why bother challenging you over something time would return to us anyway? But now,” she added, her voice softening into something almost playful, “now that we have need of it…” She let the sentence trail off, her meaning sinking into the silence.

  Elysian snorted, his temper flaring. “You didn’t fight for it. You didn’t claim it. That land became ours the moment you abandoned it. How can you suddenly decide it’s yours just because you need it now? Is that fair? Is it even reasonable?”

  Thaldruna chuckled again, this time shaking her head with the indulgence of a parent humoring a child’s tantrum. “Fair? Oh, my dear.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto his, unrelenting. “I’ve let you play the part of someone older, someone wiser. But moments like this remind me—you’re still so very young.”

  Elysian bristled at the word.

  ‘Young? I’ve lived nearly a century…’

  The protest formed in his mind, but it died as quickly as it came. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly as he realized the truth. Even if he combined both his lives—his current years and those of his past self—it would still amount to nothing compared to the ages etched into the faces of the trolls surrounding him. And Thaldruna? She seemed eternal, like a piece of the earth itself, unfazed by the turning of centuries.

  “Child,” Thaldruna said, her tone shifting. The warmth in her voice cooled, replaced by a glint of something far sharper. Her smile grew dangerous, a fleeting shadow of the power that seemed to emanate from her very being. Elysian’s skin prickled as a shiver coursed through him, his instincts screaming at him to tread carefully.

  “There is no fairness in this world,” the Matriarch said, her words cutting through the air like the stroke of a blade. “There is only power. Power is reason. Power decides who is right and who is wrong.” She let the weight of her statement settle, her eyes boring into his as if daring him to argue. Then, just as suddenly, the dangerous edge softened, and her grandmotherly smile returned—kind, yet no less unnerving.

  “If there’s one thing you will learn from me, child,” she said, her tone almost gentle, “learn—that. Power rules this world. Whether you like it or not, that is simply how it works—how this world works.”

  Elysian locked eyes with her, the weight of her words pressing down on him like an iron vice. He wanted to refute her, to argue against the harsh truth she’d laid bare, but his voice faltered. The argument died before it could reach his lips. All he could do was exhale a heavy sigh of resignation.

  ‘She’s right. As much as I want to deny it, I’ve seen enough of the world to know that power decides everything. It dictates what is right, who gets to win, and who is forced to kneel. Those without power have no choice but to acquiesce to those who do. And right now? That’s me. It’s Ironspire.’

  His teeth clenched, jaw tightening as a tide of frustration rose within him. He’d returned to this life for a purpose—to change things. But what had really changed?

  Sure, the events unfolding now had never happened before, and he was stronger than he’d been the first time. But no matter how far he’d come, this moment felt like a grim echo of the past. He was still powerless. Still staring at an unyielding wall of strength that dwarfed him.

  The realization hit like a hammer to his chest, a weight that threatened to crush the air from his lungs.

  ‘Does this mean I can’t do anything? That I have to just stand here and accept the deaths of my friends? Of the soldiers?’

  The thought threatened to take root, but before despair could consume him, another flicker sparked to life. His resolve, fragile yet unyielding, solidified. He raised his gaze, meeting the Matriarch’s eyes again—this time, with defiance.

  Though her expression didn’t change, Elysian thought he saw a faint glimmer of acknowledgment in her ancient gaze, like a flicker of approval. Or maybe it was just his imagination, his desperate mind conjuring illusions where none existed.

  ‘She’s right about one thing: I don’t have the strength to defeat her—or any of them. But power comes in many forms, doesn’t it? And if I can’t protect everything, then at the very least, I can save the lives of my friends and the soldiers. Even if it means giving up Grimwatch.’

  Elysian’s lips pressed into a thin line before parting, his voice steady, deliberate. “I acknowledge that you are right,” he said, nodding once. “Power does decide everything. But you’ve said something else—something I find more interesting.”

  The Matriarch’s smile widened, curling into a grin that was both amused and dangerous. “Oh? And what might that be, child?”

  “You’ve stopped the attack on Grimwatch,” Elysian said, watching her carefully. He saw the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes, like a predator humoring its prey. “You have my people surrounded, but you haven’t moved further than that.” He hesitated, just for a moment, before delivering the words carefully with more emphasis. “For now.”

  “For now,” Thaldruna repeated, her chuckle deep and rumbling. She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his insight. “I would have been quite disappointed if you’d missed that part. But it seems I didn’t need to worry. You’re sharp—for a human.”

  “Thank you,” Elysian replied, bowing his head slightly. “Coming from you, that’s a tremendous compliment.”

  “Spare me your flattery, child,” the Matriarch said, snorting as though dismissing an annoying insect. “It won’t work.”

  “I’m not flattering you,” Elysian countered smoothly, lifting his gaze to meet hers once again. “I’m merely stating the truth.”

  Thaldruna’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice in her gaze, only a flicker of curiosity.

  Elysian pressed forward, careful to keep his tone even, yet firm. “But since we’re speaking of truth, I think we both know you want something from me. That’s why you saved my life, isn’t it?” He paused, letting the question linger before adding, “And why the soldiers in Grimwatch are still alive.”

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