SOULBOUND: THE ABYSS WITHIN

Chapter 80: Council Winds and Frozen Resolve

Far from the noisy halls of Soul Academy and the chaos Mira Hawthorne continued to sow like pollen in spring, a storm brewed in a polished chamber of power—The Grand Council Hall, a circular dome of white-gold Soulstone hovering above the capital city of Lafrosa.

Today's agenda: The Hawthorne-Ikemba Conflict.

Seated in one of the arc-shaped high-backed chairs was Michelle Hawthorne, clad in a regal white gown embroidered with sharp silver feathers. Her signature wind aura drifted about her like invisible currents, subtly shifting papers and rustling the hems of distant robes.

Across from her sat Marcus Ikemba, sharp-eyed and stone-faced. Unlike his sister Muna, his composure was glacial—pure restraint cloaked in layers of ice. His formal coat was a deep navy threaded with frost patterns, his silver-crystal gauntlets faintly misting.

Michelle crossed her legs slowly. "I expected Muna to be here."

Marcus didn't blink. "She is… indisposed."

"You mean reckless," Michelle replied coolly. "She charged my estate like a warlord. Screaming my name."

"The reports said she stopped at screaming. That's restraint," Marcus said dryly.

"She nearly collapsed our estate with her black lightning."

"That's her version of knocking."

A few of the Grand Council members chuckled quietly at that, though most remained neutral.

Kamalu, the African representative with an earthy lion-like aura, spoke next. "Marcus, Michelle… You are both elders of high-standing lineages. This quarrel cannot escalate any further."

Michelle folded her arms. "Tell that to Muna. Or to your niece."

Marcus raised a brow. "If you're referring to Cassandra, she has broken no laws."

Michelle narrowed her eyes. "She rejected a Soul Board invitation. She disrespected its leadership. And now Mira—my daughter—is suffering emotional distress."

"Your daughter attempted to force herself on mine," Marcus said evenly, ice creeping along the base of his chair.

Gasps rippled through the room. One of the French delegates, Aurelius Dumbledore, straightened in his seat.

Michelle scoffed. "Those are unsubstantiated accusations."

"No. They're statements made by Cassandra herself—and observed by others. But we didn't escalate it. You did—by failing to discipline your child."

Michelle's aura stirred with a sudden gust. "Watch your words."

Marcus leaned forward, the temperature dropping. "Or what, Michelle?"

The wind clashed against the encroaching chill. Invisible pressure pressed down on the room, half the council bracing subconsciously. But neither unleashed their full aura—yet.

Kamalu raised a firm hand. "Enough!"

Both powers faded slightly, if reluctantly.

Kamalu continued, "If the conflict spreads further, we risk another generational rift between two major families. Marcus, I assume you don't plan retaliation."

"I never did," Marcus replied. "But I cannot leash Muna. No one can. Jane is the only one who could, and she won't intervene—yet."

Michelle turned away with a bitter huff.

Kamalu looked between them. "Then consider this our warning: the next outburst from either side will be met with full council inquiry. Both lineages are far too powerful for unchecked vendettas."

Marcus gave a slight nod. "Understood."

Michelle said nothing.

As the council disbanded, Marcus stood up first, walking silently toward the exit. Michelle remained behind, eyes narrowed toward the ceiling.

> "Cassandra Ikemba… just like her mother. Strong, defiant, and far too dangerous."

Wind stirred again, gentle this time—more like a whisper.

> "Mira will not stop... until she gets what she wants."

Far below the chamber, as the capital moved about its day, black lightning sparked in the skies over the Ikemba district—just briefly.

And someone in the shadows watched from afar… golden-haired and dark-skinned. Ramses.

> "The council moves slowly... But everything is aligning perfectly."