“And there we have the greatest lie of the elves,” Fintan interrupted, struggling to stand with his clunky chains. “We talk of freedom and equality—but demand authority and superiority. And why shouldn’t we? Simply put: We’re better, on every level. Smarter. More powerful. With talents and skills none of you can even comprehend.”

Angry shouts erupted from the other rulers, and Sophie slouched in her chair.

She’d heard the elves refer to themselves as superior many times—and it had always made her uncomfortable. But to broadcast it so boldly in front of the other species was both uncalled-for and insulting.

“There’s no need to be offended,” Fintan called over them, resting his chained hands on the glowing table. “Being superior isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We’re stuck solving all of your problems, trying to keep millions of people with different wants and needs and challenges satisfied with their lives. Why do you think we’re here?”

“Before you start shouting again,” Councillor Bronte interrupted, “remember that you’re the ones who voted that Fintan be allowed to attend. Perhaps now you see why we’ve been working so hard to silence him.”

“But I won’t be silenced!” Fintan shouted. “Because the old ways are failing—and have been failing for centuries. This world doesn’t need diplomacy. It needs quick, decisive leadership from someone who offers actual solutions. Someone not afraid of making the hard choices. Someone willing to make changes. Let’s be honest—how many of you fully expect to have most of your demands ignored during these negotiations?”

“And how many would prefer to suffer the consequences of ill-conceived plans?” Councillor Emery countered.

“You look confused,” Mr. Forkle whispered to Sophie.

“I don’t understand why they’re letting Fintan go on like this,” she whispered back.

“Because they take the ‘equals at the round table’ concept very seriously. And they’re probably also hoping he’ll wear himself out.”

“But shouldn’t they at least insist he talk about the ogre treaty?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“We are indeed,” Mr. Forkle said, rising from his seat and addressing the other leaders. “What you’re witnessing is the folly of the Neverseen. They don’t offer solutions. They shout and wail and stir up unrest, and make everyone lose focus on what actually matters. Let’s not forget that we’re here today because one leader”—he pointed to King Dimitar—“decided to violate the treaty his people signed, in large part because he was listening to the advice of the Neverseen. Surely you’ve heard of the disgusting plague they unleashed on the gnomes in a pitiful attempt to force the species into slavery. And the betrayals sadly haven’t ended there. Only a handful of days ago, a small band of ogres attacked an innocent elvin family, killing one of the loyal goblins who was there to protect them.”

“The latter incident was done without my permission,” King Dimitar argued, turning to address Sophie and Edaline. “I cannot force you to believe me—nor will I apologize for something I’m not responsible for. But I will offer you what little I know. The Neverseen proposed an alliance, and spoke of a different test to verify my commitment.”

“Which was?” Sophie asked.

Dimitar glared at Fintan. “That is irrelevant. What matters is I decided not to participate—and I did so after receiving sound advice from one of your own. The same someone who happened to be present during the attack at Havenfield.”

“Lady Cadence?” Sophie confirmed.

“Seems rather coincidental, don’t you think, that a group of ogres rebelling against my resolve to separate from the Neverseen would involve themselves in an assault that includes the very person who encouraged me to reject Fintan’s offer?”

“My goodness,” Fintan said. “Who knew the ogres were such excellent story spinners?”

He was the picture of nonchalance, except for the subtle twitching of his jaw.

Meanwhile Dimitar’s expression was hard as iron—no sign of doubt or remorse. Sophie would never be foolish enough to trust the ogre king. But that didn’t mean he never spoke the truth.

And the idea of two ogre threats—one from the King and one from this emerging rebellion—opened a whole new realm of horrors.

“Either way,” Mr. Forkle said, taking back command of the floor. “Rebels or not, it does not change the fact that the ogres have turned violent, unruly, and willfully disobedient. And if they want the freedom of sharing this planet, they must agree to behave. That’s what we’re here to discuss—not whatever madness this fool is trying to distract everyone with. He’s here only to stir up trouble and flatter himself.” He flicked an arm at Fintan in a dismissive wave.

“Isn’t it ironic to hear such speech coming from someone who is himself the leader of a rebellion?” Fintan asked. “Someone who trusts the Council so little he won’t stand in front of them under his true identity. Someone who relies on fake names and false appearances and works on his projects in the shadows. He may like to believe he’s better than me, but in all the ways that matter, we are very much the same. And we’ve both earned the power we’ve acquired because the people of this planet—regardless of their species—are desperate for the guidance and direction needed to survive the coming crisis. Our world has far greater issues than rebellious ogres—in fact, I happen to know that a primary reason King Dimitar was initially open to my suggestions is something you all grow more frustrated with every day. And if you think this Council is ever going to offer you a solution, get ready to be severely disappointed. They’ll hem and haw and return to their glittering castles—maybe even erase the problem from their minds and pretend it no longer exists.”

“And what exactly is this problem you speak of?” King Enki asked

Fintan’s eyes focused on Sophie, his lips curling into a smile that gave her prickles. “The problem is humans.”

SEVENTY-EIGHT

WHAT DO WE do,” Fintan asked, “with a species that’s clever enough to build and create, and yet foolish enough to design its own ruin? Creatures so violent, they’re always at war—but with others of their own kind? Creatures that destroy everything they touch, including this planet we’re all forced to share? Creatures so prolific, they’ve consumed the majority of the productive lands, and yet even the Councillors themselves refuse to classify them as intelligent? Creatures we hold to no treaties—no codes of honor—and no laws except their own flawed logic? Creatures that don’t even know we exist?” His eyes roved around the table, before coming to rest again on Sophie. “To them, we’re nothing more than silly stories and legends. We’re magical. Mythical. Credited to their own fanciful imaginations. And should they discover our existence, their only response would be violence. And yet what has our Council done about it?”