A metallic tang lingered in Cactus's mouth, a phantom taste of the fear that had gripped him since his accidental probe into Tsunami's mind. Her ambition, sharp and predatory, still echoed in his thoughts. He paced the small cave, the stone floor cool beneath his talons. The humming persisted, a low, insidious thrum beneath the academy's foundations, making his scales prickle. Was it influencing Tsunami? Was it warping her already formidable drive into something dangerous, something he couldn't predict? The thought gnawed at him, twisting his gut into a knot of apprehension. Protecting his friends was paramount. This fear, this core wound, pulsed with renewed intensity. He had to understand the humming. He had to neutralize the threat. But how? Direct confrontation seemed foolish, given its elusive nature. Information. That was the key. Decisions were being made, alliances forged, policies debated. The student council, he recalled, was meeting today, discussing a new peace treaty initiative. A small, seemingly insignificant step in the grand scheme of Pyrrhia, but perhaps a ripple in the humming's dark current. He had to observe. He had to listen. He had to, perhaps, *guide*. --- Sunlight, filtered through the mountain's crystal ceiling, illuminated the large common room designated for council meetings. A long, polished table, carved from dark stone, dominated the center. Around it sat dragons from various tribes, their expressions a mix of earnestness and boredom. Starflight, the NightWing librarian, sat hunched over a scroll, his blindfold a stark contrast to the vibrant scales of his peers. His brows were furrowed, a familiar posture of deep concentration or profound stress. Cactus slipped in quietly, taking a seat at the back, a shadow among the vibrant scales. His eyes scanned the room, noting the subtle tension in the air. This treaty, whatever its specifics, was clearly more contentious than 'minor'. Arguments began, tentative at first, then escalating into a cacophony of voices. A MudWing insisted on allocation of river access. A SkyWing bristled at proposed flight path restrictions. Starflight, trying to mediate, kept losing his place on the scroll, his talons trembling slightly. Cactus watched. He listened. The humming seemed to intensify subtly here, in this room of shifting opinions and rising emotions. A subtle shift in the air, a faint vibration underfoot. He felt the familiar pull, the quiet hum of his own power awakening. A warmth spread through his chest, then out to his scales, a gentle, almost imperceptible aura of calm and reason. It wasn't a conscious decision to use it, at first. More an instinct, a natural response to the discord. Starflight sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is going nowhere,” he muttered, his voice strained. “We need a consensus. Princess Ember, your proposed clause regarding shared hunting grounds… it's creating significant friction.” Ember, a SkyWing with bright orange scales, puffed out her chest. “It's fair. Our territory has shrunk due to…” she trailed off, glancing pointedly at a RainWing delegate. “Due to our *peaceful expansion*,” the RainWing, a chameleon of shifting hues, corrected smoothly, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Cactus inhaled slowly. He felt the threads of conversation, the emotional currents. He knew where the balance lay, where a small nudge could turn the tide. His gaze drifted to Starflight, a gentle, almost imperceptible focus. Starflight shifted, as if feeling a sudden easing of pressure. He looked up, his blind eyes seeming to search the room.

Chapter 39: The Price of Influence