The final day of the festival burned brighter than any other. Lanterns floated like stars reborn, the air thick with spells humming in harmony, and the crowd packed every inch of the grand plaza. Nobles, royals, warriors, and foreign envoys—everyone who mattered was here.
Jamyd's smirk carried through the hall, his family standing like a perfect portrait of pride and power. Daphane glittered in silver, her smile sharp and calculated; the twins whispered into each other's ears, their expressions cold and cruel; and Lymid loomed like he owned the air itself. Their eyes never left Nystrix.
She could feel it—every glare, every whispered insult—but Gadmyne's calm golden stare anchored her. The Archwitch wasn't nervous. If anything, she looked like she'd been waiting for this moment her whole life.
When the final rite was supposed to end, Gadmyne raised her hand. The plaza fell silent, like the air itself was holding its breath.
"Before we celebrate," Gadmyne's voice rang clear, "the truth must be seen."
Nystrix's pulse spiked as she felt the familiar hum of Gadmyne's magic swirling around her. Golden light flickered at the edges of her vision. With a subtle nod from Gadmyne, she reached out with her own magic, letting the past unfold for everyone to see.
Above the plaza, images shimmered into existence. Jamyd, Knox, and their co-conspirators moved through shadowed halls, whispering, plotting, smirking. The plans were revealed like fire on glass—maps of betrayal, secret meetings where blades were promised, words that were meant to kill, alliances formed only to be broken. And then… the execution of Jacqueline played out in chilling clarity. Every glance, every shove, every poisoned whisper replayed, showing their guilt in high definition.
The plaza gasped. Nobles stumbled back, some clutching their robes, eyes wide. Shock turned to awe, awe to horror. No one could look away.
Illus stepped forward from the edge of the Noctarii, his smile slow and calculating, eyes glinting like knives. His voice was smooth, honeyed, dangerous.
"Ah… so this is the mighty Jamyd," he purred. "The one who thought himself clever, charming, untouchable. Tell me… how does it feel to see your genius plans turned to ashes? To watch your lies shimmer in golden light for all to witness?"
Jamyd's jaw clenched. "This… this can't be… impossible!"
Illus tilted his head, predatory. "Impossible? No. Inevitable. You thought you controlled everything. Shadows, whispers, secrets—every eye in the night deceived. And yet here you are. Naked. Mocked. Humiliated. And you… oh, you'll remember this. Forever."
Daphane's perfect mask of calm cracked; her fingers trembled as she tried to straighten her robes. The twins' cruel smirks died on their lips, faces pale and staring. Lymid's fists shook, his rage boiling beneath a thin veneer of control, cracking with every passing second.
Jamyd's eyes darted around the plaza, looking for support, for allies, for excuses—but there were none. No one dared to meet his gaze. Whispers of betrayal and treachery spread like wildfire, each gasp and muttered comment stabbing him deeper than any blade could.
Illus circled them, slow, deliberate, like a hawk savoring its prey. "Look at yourselves," he continued, voice smooth, cutting, manipulative. "All your whispers, your secret meetings, your… clever little schemes… undone. Nothing left but shame. And the night? Oh, the night does not forgive cowards. It mocks them. It exposes them. And it laughs. And so… you laugh with it, or you wither in silence."
Knox's face flushed crimson. Daphane's lips parted, but no words came. The twins' hands twitched, gripping each other's sleeves as if the physical contact might anchor them. Lymid's teeth ground together, a snarl escaping before he could swallow it.
The crowd began to murmur, some laughing softly, others pointing, others shaking their heads in disbelief. Nobles who had once bowed to Jamyd now stared at him with something like disgust. Even minor envoys, unsure of what to do, murmured among themselves, their faces alight with awe at the display of magic—and the reveal of treachery.
Illus leaned closer, voice dropping to a hiss meant for the conspirators and the crowd alike. "Look at yourselves," he said again, savoring the moment. "So proud. So sure. And yet here you are, trembling, exposed, powerless. You thought yourselves clever, untouchable… and all you have left is shame."
Jamyd's lips twisted, part anger, part disbelief. "You… you'll pay—" Something that wasn't supposed to slip out.
Illus laughed softly, dark and slow. "Pay? No, that would be too simple. The far crueler punishment is humiliation, wrapped in every eye that watches you now. Every whisper, every stare, every muttered curse from nobles and warriors alike. You cannot hide. You cannot charm this away. And you… oh, you will never forget this feeling."
The magical display shimmered on, showing more of the plotting—the whispered secrets between Knox and Jamyd, Daphane's whispered schemes to manipulate Lymid, the twins' laughter at others' misfortune. Every subtle betrayal, every hidden cruelty, was projected above the plaza, impossible to ignore.
Jamyd's facade was crumbling. He pressed his hands against his chest, as if to hold himself together. "No… this isn't real. I… I—"
Daphane trembled violently, muttering under her breath, "It's not true… it can't be…"
Lymid's face twisted, a mixture of disbelief and raw fury. "You're lying! You… you can't—"
Illus's grin widened, almost enjoying their desperation. "Ah, but the night doesn't lie. The magic doesn't lie. And now, everyone sees what you are. Weak. Cowards. Liars. Betrayers."
Knox's hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white, his face flushed with fear and anger. The twins' whispers grew frantic, incomprehensible, as if their words might somehow undo what they had done.
Nystrix felt a surge of awe and adrenaline. She could feel the crowd's energy shift, the power of truth pressing down like a tide. Her heart hammered in her chest, part fear, part exhilaration. For the first time, she wasn't just an observer—she was part of the reckoning.
Finally, Gadmyne placed her hand firmly on Nystrix's shoulder, grounding her. Her voice rang out, strong and commanding. "This girl," she said, her tone cutting through the murmurs like thunder, "is not some stray, not some mistake crawling where she doesn't belong. She is my disciple."
Murmurs erupted, shock rippling like lightning across the crowd.
But Gadmyne wasn't finished. Her voice sharpened, ringing like a blade. "She is also the blood of two realms. Daughter of Slagus, ruler of the shapeshifter clans… and of Jacqueline, the executed Queen of the witches."
The plaza erupted. Gasps, cries, shouts—it was chaos. The very ground seemed to shake under the weight of her words. Nobles turned to each other in disbelief, clutching robes as though the truth had burned them.
Jamyd's family froze like statues struck by lightning. Daphane's hand twitched, her perfect mask cracking. The twins looked at each other, for once speechless. Lymid's face flushed crimson, lips curling into a snarl. Jamyd's jaw tightened, his face pale, eyes wide with hate and disbelief, muttering curses under his breath as he shook his head, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Gadmyne's voice cut clean through the uproar. "You ask if she belongs? Her blood says yes. You whisper of danger? Look instead to those who turned their blades against Jacqueline—against their own kin."
The implication was sharp as a dagger—Jamyd's hand in his sister's death—not said aloud, but heavy enough that everyone felt it. Jamyd's hands shook as he tried to speak, but the murmurs and gasps drowned him out. Nobles no longer looked at him with respect—they looked with suspicion, with disgust.
The Noctarii, who stood like shadows at the edge of the dais, finally spoke.
Zanre scoffed openly. "A hybrid daughter, raised under chaos. Dangerous. Reckless." His disdain dripped like venom, eyes locked on Nystrix with nothing but hate.
Fenrith's cold voice followed, icy and measured. "Her blood makes her both legacy and threat. I acknowledge her existence, but not her place."
Niven stepped forward, softer, almost kind. "Blood does not curse—it reveals. And hers reveals strength."
Lynch tilted her head, a sharp grin breaking across her face. "If she burns, then she burns for us, not against us."
Xladys's lips curled into a slow, approving smile. "A child of two flames. Rare. Promising."
Sakie's voice was smooth, calm. "Let the girl walk her path. She belongs to the night as much as we do."
Mann and Naise exchanged glances before speaking in near unison. Mann said, "She has power—potential." Naise added, softer, with a hint of caution: "But power cuts both ways. Acceptance is not without risk."
The crowd's energy shifted entirely. Jamyd and his family were left crumbling, humiliated and powerless, while Nystrix felt the weight of destiny pressing down on her shoulders—exciting, terrifying, and electric all at once.
Even as the murmurs continued, she felt something else too—a thrill. The world had shifted, and she was at the center of it.