The lanterns flickered, casting trembling shadows upon the long, oak table. Elara adjusted her dark cloak, the fabric whispering secrets as she moved. Tonight was the night of the Gathering, where ancient pacts and forgotten alliances would be rekindled. The air was heavy with the scent of roasted meats and something bitter, like memories best left unspoken.
"Is he coming?" she asked, her voice barely above a murmur.
"He always comes, Elara," replied Aric, his eyes narrowing as he stared toward the entrance. His fingers brushed a dagger hidden beneath the table.
"And what if he brings the curse with him?"
"Then we will face it together, as we always have."
The door creaked open, and in stepped Lord Varyn, cloaked in shadows of his own. His presence chilled the room, a reminder of the blood that had stained their past.
Elara’s heart quickened. Tonight would either restore their world or plunge it into darkness anew. A single moment, a choice to be made. The feast awaited, but the true hunger lay in the hearts of those gathered, and the price of secrets yet untold.