91

Constantine stood at the center of the grand hall, her voice projecting with an eerie authority that sent shivers down the spines of those gathered. The witches of the coven, some still bearing the fresh scars of the recent turmoil, looked to her with a mix of fear and curiosity.

"My fellow witches," she began, her tone measured and deliberate. "We gather here today in the wake of a great tragedy. Our beloved elders of the first order have been ruthlessly struck down by the hand of darkness. King Crowell's assassins are responsible for this heinous act."

Murmurs rippled through the assembly, a sea of concerned faces turning toward one another, searching for answers in their neighbors' eyes.

Constantine continued, her voice unwavering. "But fear not, for justice will be served. I vow to you all that we shall hunt down these assassins and make them pay for their crimes. They thought they could extinguish the light of our coven, but they are gravely mistaken."

Isolde, her loyal confidant