The room was thick with scented smoke and polished corruption.
Five elders sat around a crescent-shaped table of lacquered blackwood, dressed in flowing robes embroidered with silver moons and crimson thread. Behind them, stained glass windows filtered warm sunlight across plush rugs and trays of untouched fruit.
At the center sat Elder Yoru, the most senior—his white fur immaculate, his long snout twitching with disapproval as Nyra and her "escort" entered the room.
He narrowed his sharp golden eyes.
"Our youngest elder," he said slowly, voice dry as old paper, "why are you bringing the goods here? You know the protocol. The buyers are not due for another week."
Nyra bowed her head just enough to show respect without submission. "I apologize, Elder Yoru," she said smoothly, "but I've brought them early for… reconditioning."
Yoru raised a brow. "Reconditioning?"
