The table looked at Bishie, eyes locking on the boy like missiles targeting a ship. The polished mahogany surface, once a symbol of the library's quiet dignity, now felt like a battlefield. The ten mages sat around it, their expressions a mix of tense anticipation and growing dread, as if the air itself was a physical weight.
"What do you mean, Nova?" Gala asked, with a tremor of alarm in her voice. Her face, usually serene, was now etched with a deep worry.
He replied coldly, a calculating glint in his dark brown eyes. "I'll be blunt, Bishie did a great job, for the most part, reviving Nikola, but we can't have him alive anymore, it's too dangerous for us and him." His words were a clean cut, devoid of emotion, and they hung in the silent air. The shadows from the library's tall bookshelves seemed to stretch and deepen around them.
"You mean living here, right? Because if you did, then I agree," Gala commented, a hint of hope in her voice. She clasped her hands together, her knuckles white against her skin.
"You know exactly what I mean," Nova announced, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "I didn't want to be this blunt, but we need to kill Bishie." He let his gaze linger on Wisdom, who sat calmly, a book in her hands. The book, a thick tome bound in worn leather, seemed to be her only sanctuary in the rising chaos.
Bishie's whole world moved in fractions of a second, though this feeling was surreal, Bishie had only one thought on his mind: he needed to run, but he couldn't, because to run, you have to be free first. What he needed to do was escape. My aunt and uncle were right. He remembered their hushed warnings and the cold reality of their words settled over him like a shroud. Time felt like it resumed again, and Bishie did not hesitate.
With clammy hands and a sweaty brow, Bishie pushed his chair back, toppling it over and falling out, making a break for it. The clatter of the chair echoed through the cavernous library, a sound of profound disruption. Nova stopped staring at Wisdom and turned his attention back toward the boy.
"Oh no, he's getting away," Nova vocalized sarcastically, his grin widening as he used Wisdom's abilities to pull Bishie back to his seat. The invisible force wrapped around the boy, yanking him backward with an almost audible pop of displaced air. "Just sit tight. We have to figure out how we're going kill you."
Gala blurted out, "How about like, not killing the kid who just revived our team member?" Her black hair, usually pulled back in a neat bun, had come loose in strands that framed her distressed face.
Nikola looked up from his hands, his gray skin appearing even more corpse-like under the library's faint glow. "So it was you," he muttered, his voice devoid of any tone, his eyes fixed on Bishie with an unnerving intensity.
"Why can't we keep him around?" Ourania questioned. She sat stiffly in her chair, her back ramrod straight, her sensible clothes and neatly braided hair contrasting the turmoil around her.
"It's protocol," Maram answered, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked away from Bishie, mixing an expression of resignation and grim practicality. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than usual.
Sam interjected, his gaze piercing and intense. "Protocol or not, it's not something that I can agree with." He slammed his fist on the table. The sound was a loud crack that made everyone jump, the force of it making the nearby books shiver on their shelves. "This team is a democracy." His protest was loud, clear, and unyielding.
Nova laughed, the sound cold and humorless. "Not when I'm here. That's just a courtesy so you guys can feel entitled to something, since you all come from basically nothing." His words were a verbal lash, meant to sting and belittle. He reveled in the reactions, the subtle shifts in posture and the hardening of expressions.
"If this team wants to be a team, then it has to be a democracy. If we're not that, then you're just a commander, and you're okay with that?" Sam's voice was a quiet fury, a mask of defiance.
"Yes, actually, because it would change literally nothing," Nova chuckled. He leaned back in his chair, a look of complete control on his face.
"Do you find this funny?" Ourania inquired, standing up. Her petite frame seemed to swell with indignation, her eyes blazing.
"Ourania, sit down. You're just going to tell me to 'stop bullying people.' You're a student body secretary; calm yourself." His words were dismissive, a casual jab that was meant to deflate her righteous anger.
Ruby and Will put down their phones. Ruby's short, red hair seemed to stand on end with her unease, and Will's muscular form was now still, all casual bravado gone. "Me and Ruby are probably thinking the same thing right now, right, Ruby?" Will said.
"Yeah, we can't just go around killing kids," Ruby admitted, her voice softer but no less firm than Will's.
Will scorned, "No, we follow Nova because he's our leader. Also, he can kick our asses if he wanted to." His opinion was a pragmatic, almost brutal, acceptance of their reality.
"Yo, 'Genies 3,' what's your verdict?" Nova questioned Ian, Wisdom, and Nikola. His tone was a theatrical challenge, as if he were a game show host awaiting a final decision.
"If it's protocol, then we have to follow it. Nova is the sect leader; there's no arguing that," Ian asserted calculatingly. His porcelain face was unreadable, his eyes staring into the distance as if consulting an internal ledger of rules and regulations.
Wisdom added in, "Being killed just for who you are is not going to solve anything. Can't he just live down here with us?" Her wish was expressed with a quiet pleading, her gaze darting from Nova to Bishie. The heavy book in her hands felt like a shield against the cruelty of the moment.
Nikola looked at his arms, his fingers tracing the grotesque, grayish hue of his skin. "I need him." He looked back up toward Bishie, holding his arm out toward him. "I'm going to let you live so you can fix what you did to me." His input was purely selfish, a desperate pled for a return to normalcy.
Nova started getting nervous. The votes were stacking against him, and he couldn't have that. He needed to be in control. "6-4 with the protection of Bishie in favor." He looked at Wisdom, focusing on her signature every so often so he could keep a telekinetic grip on Bishie. A thought popped into his head, a flash of pure inspiration. "Wisdom!" She jumped when he yelled, her composure finally breaking. "How do you feel about this table right now? Do you treasure it?"
"Yeah, I guess it's the only stuff that I have from my world, that and the original library books before everything was filled up,"Wisdom muttered with a confused look on her face. Her brow furrowed, a silent query in her eyes.
"Ian, do the thing," Nova commanded. Ian glanced at Nova, seemingly reading his mind, then looked at Wisdom. His eyes seemed to flicker with a subtle, almost imperceptible light.
"What did you do?" Gala inquired, concerned. The look in Ian's eyes was unnerving, and she instinctively moved closer to her seat mate, Ruby.
"I removed the psychic veil from her mind, which means she can see what Bishie did to her table," Ian clarified, his voice a low, steady murmur.
"My table?" Wisdom's question was a soft gasp, a fragile sound of dawning horror. She scanned the table, her gaze taking in the smooth surface, the intricate carvings, and then, her eyes landed on the grotesque runes etched into her precious heirloom. The lines, once beautiful and ornate, were now marred by Bishie's crude, messy markings. "MY TABLE!" she roared, the sound an unholy shriek of pure rage. Her serene composure shattered, replaced by an incandescent fury that made her entire body tremble.
"I VOTE WE TERMINATE THE KID!" she bellowed, the words an immediate and final vote. Her hair, which was usually as neat as her books, seemed to fly out in a wild, untamed cloud around her head.
"Great, 5 to 5," Nova proclaimed with a confident smile. His plan worked perfectly.
"Wisdom, You can't switch sides now," Ourania protested, her comment laced with disbelief.
"He could've done this anywhere else, but he did it here, on this specific table," she yelled more, her voice raw with emotion. The rune-scarred wood was a personal affront, a violation of her sacred space.
"Alright, just to be sure, let's all switch seats to properly face each other and have this real meeting. Bishie, you can still be at the head of the table," Nova uttered, his grin never faltering.
All ten mages stood up, switching seats with a flurry of motion. Maram, Ian, Will, Wisdom, and Nova sat on the right side of Bishie, while Ourania, Ruby, Gala, Nikola, and Sam sat on the left, all facing each other, respectively. The room was now a charged arena, the air thick with anticipation.
Wisdom raised her hand while holding her book. "So, sect rules indicate that any outside personnel must be terminated on the clauses of: Prolonged exposure to sect activities, endangering the mission or companions, or if the leader senses mutiny. If approved by Jenti, the leading member is allowed to terminate them." Her declaration was delivered with a practiced ease, as if she were reading from a rulebook.
"And Bishie's situation clearly falls under 'Prolonged exposure to sect activities,' which means the boy dies today," Nova declared, his voice a cold pronouncement of fate.
"But all rules can be nullified by Jenti's will if the sect votes to have a seeing," Ourania pointed out, her input a last-ditch attempt at mercy for Bishie.
"We are not summoning a great just for a petty squabble," Ian commented, his view flat and unyielding.
Sam finally spoke, the warmth and gentleness in his usual demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. "You know I can't let you do this, Nova." Sam stood up from his seat, his gaze unwavering. "This is an innocent."
"He's not innocent. He's a criminal of the sect!" Nova said, his opinion a cynical retort.
"We're going in circles at this point," Nikola grumbled, annoyed, tapping his feet on the ground. His pallid skin seemed to thrum with a faint, restless energy.
"HEY! DO I NOT GET A SAY IN THIS?" Bishie yelled, his desire for a say in his own fate a desperate, high-pitched cry.
Nova, ignoring Bishie, looked at Ian and stood up. "If you want an audience, then we'll get an audience." He continued to drop to the floor with his hands behind his back.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked, irritated.
"Do you not hear them?" Ian questioned, doing the same as Nova.
Sam tried to listen, focusing his hearing. He closed his eyes, concentrating. The only sound he could pick up was the faint hum of the library's magical lights. "I hear thumping?" he whispered, his voice a low whisper.
"Thumping!?" Gala asked, her feeling of alarm evident.
A banging came from the door, a loud, resounding thud that rattled the very shelves. The thumping grew louder, more insistent, and a man's booming voice shook the room from the outside in. "This is the S.O.G.! Open this door now! When we walk through this door, I want to see all ten of you with your hands on the ground."
"Shit," Maram muttered, a single word that summed up the entire situation.
"Unlike y'all, I'm not afraid of the S.O.G.," Will proclaimed, walking to the door, his Manick joules seeping from his palms. His body language was a mix of cocky confidence and genuine bravery.
"LOAD THE PETARD!" The man commanded. The words were a sharp, brutal bark.
Just then, they heard the shuffling of a duffel bag and a suctioning noise coming from the base of the door.
"Nova, what's a petard?" Will asked, not having a clue what the word meant.
"IT'S A BOMB! GET DOWN, DUMBASS!" Nova shouted, his voice a roar of panic.
"They won't blow up the door," Will stated nonchalantly. The door then proceeded to be blown to bits. The explosion was a concussive shockwave that sent books flying and made the mages' ears ring. Debris rained down on them from the now-shattered doorway.
"THERE WAS NO COUNTDOWN!" Will exclaimed mindlessly, his eyes wide with surprise.
"MY DOORS!" Wisdom cried, the sound a mixture of personal agony and profound shock. The intricate carvings of the doors, a testament to her world's craftsmanship, were now nothing but splinters.
A man in a black cloak stepped through the rubble, smoke still smearing from the debris. He walked with his hands behind his back, his shoes clicking on the floor with every step. Upon further inspection, they had sheets of metal on them. His cloak dragged on the ground, following the man like a dark shadow.
One of the S.O.G. personnel managed to cuff Will's right arm, but not the other. He took the operative and threw them across the meeting room.
Bishie looked at the man closer. All he could really make out was a scruffy beard accompanied by a permanently stern face. The man's eyes were like chips of ice, cold and unfeeling.
"On the ground, kid, hands behind your back." The hairs on Bishie's neck spiked, his blood freezing. A chill ran down his spine. How'd he get behind me?
"I said, on the ground!" Bishie's head was clamped to the man's hand. Quickly after his face was associated with the ground, he was instantaneously put into cuffs by the S.O.G.
The other operatives did the same to everyone, cuffing and seating them. Will resisted until the very end, but he wasn't using his ability. He was just using basic martial arts with the cuffs jangling around his wrist. "Everyone, hold him down until he's incapacitated!" the long-cloaked man commanded.
The short-cloaked personnel dog piled Will until he stopped moving. An operative walked toward his back, cuffed him, and guided him to his seat.
With all the mages and Bishie incapacitated, the commander stepped to the seat parallel to Bishie's. "By the dogma of Jenti, you ten must be summoned for the negligence of a sect mate and having unauthorized personnel within the sect. Once we mark you, you'll be summoned immediately to his domain." Once the commander was done speaking, the S.O.G. operative who Will threw across the room approached them with an expensive looking bottle of ink and a small paintbrush. Nova let them mark his forehead. "Don't freak out, Bishie. Just let them do what they need to do."
They went around, marking everyone else with an unfamiliar rune. Once they were done, they returned to the commander's side and held a book labeled Jenti's Manuscript and spoke one word: "Attend."