While the royal estate enjoyed a brief moment of peace, a completely different gathering was taking place in the deepest, most hidden corners of Alvea.
The Gardenians were not an open organization. To the public eye, they did not exist. They were a cult group with a deadly devotion to the elven world and its absolute stability. To them, any outside variable, any shift in the ancient balance, or any decision by the royal family that risked their isolation was an act of high treason against Alvea. The members themselves were not faceless monsters; they were normal people who walked among the elven citizens every day. Some were high-ranking officials in the elven council, others were heads of prominent noble houses, and many were wealthy merchants who controlled the trade of magical resources. Nobody knew who they truly were.
On the very night Raven was publicly accepted by the Tree of Life, the Gardenians were absolutely furious. The phenomenon of the dragon and the phoenix, followed by King Ashpyr's decision to cancel the execution, had triggered an immediate emergency.
Beneath the bustling streets of the elven capital, deep within an underground chamber that had been scrubbed from all official city maps, the members of Gardenia gathered. The room was cold, constructed from polished dark marble that reflected the dim, flickering light of a few green mana crystals.
Exactly one thousand members filled the tiered stone seats of the hidden hall. Every single one of them wore heavy, featureless gray robes and silver masks to conceal their identities, ensuring that even within the cult, no one could betray another member's true face.
The atmosphere in the hall was completely chaotic. A bout of heated rants echoed off the dark marble walls as hundreds of cultists voiced their anger simultaneously.
"The King has lost his mind!" a voice from the upper tiers hissed, the silver mask distorting the sound slightly. "He allowed a surface dweller, an amnesiac monster, to sleep under the roof of the royal villa! She has already caused fractures in the ancient golden chasm!"
"The seer claimed she is a blessing, but the seer is bound to the tree, not to the survival of our state!" another merchant-class elder shouted, slamming his fist against his armrest. "If the boundary fails, the vampires and the fae from the surface will pour down into Alvea. We will be wiped out!"
"We cannot trust the Telaviv bloodline anymore!" a high-ranking council elder whispered harshly from the front row. "They are weak. They bow to the phenomena instead of protecting our isolation. The girl must die, and the monarchy must be corrected!"
For nearly an hour, the one thousand members argued back and forth, their collective panic and fury raising the volume in the hall to a deafening pitch. They were terrified of the surface world, and they were even more terrified that their perfect, hidden paradise was about to be compromised.
BAM!
A heavy, echoing sound silenced the entire room instantly. At the center of the dark marble table on the raised podium, Philis, the chairperson of Gardenia, had slammed his fist down with immense force.
Philis stood tall, his gray robes shifting around his frame. Slowly, he raised his head, and through the eye slits of his silver mask, his eyes began to glow with a dark, malicious red light. A bone-chilling aura of raw ambition radiated from his body, freezing the breath of every single cultist in the room. He was not just a fanatic; he was a man who had waited decades for an opportunity to seize absolute control over Alvea.
"Enough of your useless shouting," Philis said, his voice cold, steady, and sharp. "The royal family has proven their incompetence. They have allowed the variable to live, and they have ignored the cracks in the chasm. We will not sit here and wait for the surface to destroy us."
The hall remained completely silent as the members listened intently.
"We will execute plan Virgo," Philis declared plainly.
A collective gasp rippled through the tiered seats. Even among these radical heretics, the mention of that specific name brought a wave of intense tension.
Plan Virgo was a highly classified, extreme backup plan established long ago during the Age of Willows; an age of absolute darkness where the elves had been forced into deep hiding during the brutal ancient wars. When the survivors were establishing the new underground monarchy in Alvea, the founders created Plan Virgo as a manual override for the entire kingdom. It was a comprehensive blueprint designed to completely dismantle the royal government, purge the royal bloodline, and forcefully restructure the elven state under a strict, militarized council.
By the original law of the founders, Plan Virgo could only be executed under one strict condition: when the reigning elven king had officially gone rogue, completely betraying the core interests of the elven race.
King Ashpyr had not gone rogue. He was simply following the explicit decree of the Tree of Life and the seer, Algar. But due to the sheer depth of Philis's ambition, and the ruthless greed of the hidden council backing him, the truth did not matter. They were going to use the public's fear of Raven to force the execution of the plan anyway, using it as a perfect excuse to overthrow the Telaviv monarchy.
"Chairperson," a masked elder from the front row spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. "King Ashpyr has not breached his oath. The people still love the crown. If we activate Virgo without a true betrayal, the military vanguard under Princess Alzar will resist us. It will cause a civil war."
Philis turned his glowing red eyes toward the speaker. "The King has breached his oath. By housing a surface anomaly that actively damages our boundary, he has placed the entire population in immediate danger. That is treason enough. The people will support us once they realize the royal family is protecting the very monster that will cause our destruction."
He leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the dark marble table.
"Prepare the sleeping agents within the palace guards," Philis commanded, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "Infiltrate the royal villa's outer perimeters. We will not strike the girl directly yet; we will first isolate her from Princess Alzar and Prince Ashar. Once the public fear reaches its peak, we will activate the protocol, remove the King, and cleanse Alvea of the surface filth."
No one else dared to object. The one thousand members bowed their heads in unison, their silver masks catching the dim green light of the crystals. The machinery of a hidden coup had officially been set into motion.
Two days passed after the secret meeting of Gardenia. Within the serene walls of the royal estate, Raven remained completely unaware of the dark net tightening around her.
She spent most of her mornings walking through the hanging gardens, accompanied frequently by Princess Alzar. The crowned princess had proven to be a true friend, keeping her word from their first meeting. Alzar taught Raven the basic layout of the capital, explained the functions of the various elven houses, and never pressed her for memories she did not have. Alzar's presence was comfortable, and her noble, solid aura provided a strange sense of security that helped Raven manage the occasional panicky flutters in her chest.
Prince Ashar also visited frequently, though his approach was vastly different. He continued to bring her rare fruits, ancient elven texts, and small gifts, always attempting to engage her in long conversations. While Raven remained polite and direct, she made sure to maintain a careful distance, still feeling that internal pang of unexplained anxiety whenever he stood too close.
But as the days walked on, the subtle atmosphere around the royal villa began to shift.
During her walks, Raven noticed that the faces of the ordinary estate guards were changing. The familiar, elite soldiers of the royal vanguard who usually occupied the checkpoints were occasionally replaced by quiet, stern-faced guards she hadn't seen before. They wore the standard royal uniform perfectly, and their manners were entirely professional, but their eyes remained cold and fixed on her forehead, specifically on the faint, red and black dual flamed mark that now permanently adorned her skin.
They did not speak to her, but their silent surveillance was heavy. The hidden cultists of Gardenia were already taking their places, waiting for the red light from Philis to pull the trigger on Plan Virgo.