It was a statement from the High Table—a sign of support. The ancestors saw what was unfolding on Earth, and they couldn't allow Thessara to continue unchecked. But they couldn't intervene directly either.
There were laws—ancient ones—and though Thessara and the Fallen One had already shattered those laws by residing among the living, the other ancestors couldn't risk the same. To hold their place at the High Table, they had to abide by the rules, even as the world below slipped into chaos.
Thessara was bound by the Chain of Light. Her limbs were shackled, her body locked in place. She struggled to summon her power, and her root beneath her was rotted through—its bark corrupted and brittle.
Across from her, the Fallen One staggered, but the same light that restrained her now cradled him, holding him upright. The contrast was unbearable. Her rage surged anew, igniting behind her eyes like wildfire.
"Those bastards," she hissed under her breath.
