Izalith remained in the council chamber long after Hiro's body had been taken away. Several of the projected members had already withdrawn, their figures dissolving into pale light above the distant seats. Those who remained spoke quietly among themselves, adjusting their plans around a Hero who, less than an hour ago, had been something else entirely.
Hoyo was still beyond the sealed door of the side chamber, working upon himself. Izalith watched the entrance for several seconds before turning toward the one council member who had shown no interest in the surrounding discussions.
The Treacherous Fanged Wolf sat farther down the chamber with one thick arm resting against his chair. The werewolf looked as unpleasant as she remembered: broad-shouldered, covered in old scars, his watchful stare following her approach. He possessed a stillness that occasionally encouraged people to mistake his patience for harmlessness. Few survived long enough to make that mistake twice.
