The Council of the Seven
The council chamber of the Tan Dimension was unlike anything in the En Dimension. The walls shimmered faintly with layers of translucent energy, reflecting the aura of each attendee. Floating orbs illuminated the room with soft, ever-shifting light, casting patterns on the polished obsidian floor. Seven long curving tables, arranged in a semi-circle, held representatives from each of the seven major schools of Tan Dimension, each with their own distinct insignias etched into the surface.
The tables curved around the space as if they were spanning a galaxy and the professors and heads of the schools sat at them somber and alert, waiting for the meeting to begin. In the space in the center of the se circle sat one of the great trees of Tan. It rose hire than the eye could see and light continually sparked within its canopy as enterdimensional doors continually opened and closed. The tree was a symbol, a barrier, and a ward. One could travel anywhere within the Tan Dimension via this tree or others like it.
From it's a bridge of woven flowering branches descended to the head of the opening of the semicircle. Members of the various schools arrived via the tree and descended this ridge to take their sears at their table.
Montague McGonagall stood slightly to the side, near a window, behind Star Academy's table, that looked out into the shifting skies of Tan. He had been called here to be an advisor, his dual role as a traveler and battle mage giving him insight others lacked when it came to planning such things. His hands rested lightly on the edge of the window sill, his mind half on the discussions to come, half on the fact that he would be leaving Hazel behind—potentially just as she was about to enter a new stage in her own extraordinary journey.
He could feel the weight of it. The council would discuss a tournament, something that seemed at first ceremonial, but he knew better. Power, politics, and the untested strength of students from multiple schools could shape—or shatter—the balance in ways few could predict.
He sighed quietly and turned inward, picturing Hazel as she moved through her morning in the Dreamscape. She would not yet know of this discussion, nor of the implications it would carry. He tightened his jaw, feeling the tug of a thousand responsibilities pulling him away from his daughter.
A soft chime echoed through the chamber as the council began. A slender figure with robes of deep sapphire stood at the center, eyes scanning the room with sharp, calculating precision. This was Director Veylin of Celvyr Academy, a school renowned for its tactical and defensive magic.
"Colleagues," she began, her voice crisp and resonant, "we are gathered to consider the implementation of a Tan Dimension Magic based tournament, designed to test the abilities of our students across multiple disciplines. This tournament will allow for assessment, growth, and recognition of talent in ways no single school can achieve."
A murmur of approval—and quiet skepticism—rippled through the chamber. Montague observed carefully. Already, he could see the subtle hierarchies forming: some schools felt secure, others suspicious.
From the far side, a tall figure in crimson robes leaned forward. "If we are to consider a tournament," said Master Draven of Noxharrow School, the institution specializing in dark magic, "then we must clarify: will all schools be included, or shall my institution, as usual, be excluded because of the nature of our teachings?"
A hush fell over the chamber. The inclusion of Noxharrow had always been contentious, and even here, among the more open-minded educators, the tension was palpable.
Director Veylin's eyes flicked toward him, and Montague felt the subtle weight of inquiry. "We are committed to inclusion," she said diplomatically. "No school shall be excluded based on specialty. However, regulations must ensure that practices remain controlled, and that no student's safety—or the integrity of the tournament—is compromised."
Master Draven's expression softened slightly, though a spark of defiance remained. "Controlled or not, others will judge us for the darkness we wield. Shall we also be judged for the very nature of our studies?"
Montague noted the undertone carefully. He understood, as a traveler, the delicate balance between respecting different dimensions customs and maintaining universal safety. But the truth was, Tan Dimension had a long history of dark magic usage. So why should Noxharrowbe exluded.
"Then," said a smaller figure from Myrrhgate Academy, her robes a deep violet embroidered with shifting sigils, "shall we define the structure? How many students from each school?"
"All Seven of the major schools will participate," Director Veylin confirmed. "Star Academy, Celvyr, Ardalis, Vaelthorn, Luthien, Myrrhgate, and Noxharrow. Each school may nominate three students for consideration. These students will be assessed not merely on raw power, but on creativity, adaptability, and strategic thinking. Their abilities must be measured across multiple disciplines."
Master Draven chuckled. "So none of the lower schools have anything to offer?"
Hushed murmurs ran the course of the room. Headmistress Pillar spoke to this.
"It is not that they have nothing to offer it is that they have not met certain standards. Maybe we can have other competitions that help them to improve and show how they rank amongst themselves. There doesn't always have to be just seven great schools in Tan."
Many heads nodded to this, some were reflective while still others seemed to flat-out disagree.
Montague's eyes narrowed slightly. He could already imagine Hazel's reaction. She would be furious at being put in an arbitrary pool, yet intrigued by the challenge.
One of the representatives from Vaelthorn Conservatory, a woman with sharp green eyes and a staff adorned with claws of enchanted beasts, raised her voice. "And should these students be only of the higher grades? What age group are we talking about?"
Veylin nodded. "That is a very good question. We believe any student fourth year and up should be allowed to participate."
Professor Seriwell from Luthien Collegium, the head of potions and alchemy chimed in. "And who will adjudicate disputes? Challenges of power, skill, and magical interpretation can become heated. Rules alone may not suffice."
Another murmur ran through the chamber. Myrrhgate Academy's representative added, "Perhaps a council of referees, drawn from multiple schools, can observe and intervene. To ensure impartiality."
Montague nodded silently. He could see the necessity of this. The tournament could provide not only assessment of skill, but a demonstration of collaboration —something even he had seen few attempts at.
The conversation shifted subtly, as questions gave way to potential schedules, arenas, and magical safeguards. Montague, while remaining mostly silent, reflected on the personal cost. Hazel would be too young to fully understand the political ramifications, yet the experience could shape her abilities and alliances in ways he could not yet predict.
A shadow crossed his mind: he would not be present when the first challenge commenced. He would not see Hazel take her first steps in this trial. The thought tightened his chest, but he knew his duty had called him to Sala, and the war there would demand his full attention.
There was a moment of thoughtful silence. Then, from Noxharrow, a voice added, "And what of Star Academy? Their students are known for foresight and divination. Will they have an advantage?"
Montague allowed himself a slight smile as Headmistress Pillar answered. "Advantage is always relative. Divination may provide insight, but without adaptability and skill in execution, it is insufficient. A well-rounded student must balance vision with action."
The council murmured, some scribbling notes, others exchanging glances. Even as discussions turned technical, Montague's mind wandered to Hazel. She would be furious at being assessed, skeptical of the political machinations behind the tournament, but she would also be intrigued. He knew her well enough to anticipate her reaction: a mixture of frustration and excitement.
Director Veylin closed her notes with a soft thump. "Very well. We shall begin preparations for the enterdimensional tournament. Tasks, arenas, wards, and scheduling will be determined over the coming months. Student nominations will follow. I trust all representatives understand the responsibility of their schools."
As the council began to disperse, Montague lingered by the window, watching the orbs of light shimmer and dance across the obsidian floor. The thought of Hazel stepping into this web of politics, skill, and danger tightened his chest. He would leave for Sala in days, and she would face the unknown challenges of the tournament without him.
He let out a slow breath, fingers brushing the smooth surface of the window sill. "I hope she is ready," he murmured to himself.