"All you need to do is isolate the Throne of Death along with the remaining Mist Creatures while we confront Oden and August."
Clea cut through everyone's thoughts and began issuing her orders, bending the entire gathering toward her will.
It was then that the Council remembered something important.
By tradition, they were indeed the highest authority among the Writers of History.
But ceremonial authority meant nothing before true power.
The strongest was the one whose word became law.
And there was no one within the Council stronger than Clea.
The fact that they were still allowed to lead and pass judgment was possible only because she permitted it. They ought to be grateful every day and every night that she had never once decided to turn against them.
That did not mean the Council was weak.
Quite the opposite.
Its ranks included ancient figures who had once stood among the strongest beings of their respective eras.
But the gap between them and Clea was simply too vast.
