Isabella Hawthorne
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room as Mayor Caldwell's forced cheer cut through the thick tension. "We shall, Your Excellence, we shall," he declared, a touch too loud, clapping his hands together for emphasis.
My heart thumped erratically in my chest. Although I tried to appear composed, the weight of the situation pressed down on me like an invisible hand. My gaze darted around the room, taking in the faces of those present. Ulric sat stoic and imposing, a pillar of stone in the emotional storm. Draven emanated a silent fury, his molten gaze burning through the space between us. Damien remained outwardly calm, but I could sense the barely restrained impatience radiating from him.
Then there were the Elves. Eirik, the Elf King, sat beside his queen,
