In the grand chamber where the Council gathered, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. The table they were seated around was a massive, ancient structure, its surface etched with symbols representing the various elemental powers each of them commanded. Despite the grandeur of the room, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of unease that even the ancient walls could not contain.
El-Kharis sat at one end of the table, his posture rigid, eyes fixed on the other members of the Council. To his left sat Zareon, the Demon of Earth, his massive frame nearly blending with the stone of his chair. His presence was as immovable as the mountains he commanded. To El-Kharis's right was Azazel, the demoness whose allure was as dangerous as her cunning. She avoided El-Kharis's gaze, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.