Chapter Seventy-Eight: Oaths and Embers
The council chamber was heavy with anticipation. Lanternlight flickered along the stone walls, casting wavering shadows that seemed to lean in closer with every word Kael spoke.
He stood before the circle of council members—Fenrik, Thalos, Lyria, and the others—his voice steady, though his heart thundered in his chest.
"Chaos magic," he began, "is unlike anything the world has ever known. It isn't simply fire, or shadow, or any spell you can grasp and cast. It is creation itself—life, death, the balance between them. It can be shaped into anything I can envision, and that truth terrifies even me."
Murmurs rippled across the table, the older members exchanging uneasy glances. Thalos's brows furrowed, while Fenrik's scarred hands drummed against the wood.
Kael took a breath, his throat dry. "That is why I must make this clear now, before all of you. You are my people. My family. My life. I will never—" His voice cracked, but he forced it stronger. "I will never use this power against you."
Then, to their collective shock, he lowered himself to the ground. The wooden floor was cold beneath his palms as he pressed his forehead down. The gesture was ancient—an oath from warrior to clan, a vow that could not be spoken lightly.
"I swear it," Kael said, voice muffled but fierce. "On my blood, on my mother's name, on the Hollow itself. If this power ever turns me against you, then I deserve death."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The council members shifted, clearly unsettled.
"Kael," Lyria said softly, her voice trembling. "You don't have to do this. None of us doubted you."
"Aye," Fenrik grunted, his normally gruff face softened. "You're our leader, boy. Not some monster to be feared. Stand up."
Thalos, ever measured, leaned forward. "Your vow is more than enough. It binds you in spirit and in duty. And we will hold you to it—but not because we doubt you. Because we believe you."
Kael rose slowly, cheeks flushed, but his gaze unwavering. Relief washed through him as he saw nods from each of the council members, their acceptance sealing the oath.
When the meeting adjourned, the room emptied in slow ripples until only Kael and Druaka remained. She lingered by the doorway, watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
"You meant every word," Druaka said quietly, stepping closer. "Didn't you?"
Kael nodded. "I did. I couldn't live with myself if I became the very thing I swore to fight against."
For a moment, Druaka's tusked smile softened into something fragile, almost tender. But then her eyes glinted with mischief. "You're only eighteen, Kael. Most men your age are still chasing girls in taverns. Yet here you are, vowing yourself to a people, bearing power strong enough to frighten kingdoms."
He gave a small, embarrassed huff. "I didn't exactly get the chance to be normal."
"No," Druaka agreed, crossing her arms. "But you should know… I heard you overheard me and Lyria on the road."
Kael froze. His face went red instantly, heat flooding his ears. "I—uh—"
Druaka chuckled, the sound rich and throaty. "You're brave enough to swear an oath of blood before your council, but the idea of two women talking about you makes you squirm?"
Kael rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but her. "It's not… easy to hear that kind of thing. Especially when you're the subject."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're young, Kael. Strong, yes. A leader, yes. But you're still just a man. Don't forget you're allowed to live, too. To feel. To want."
Her words lingered in the air, heavier than he expected.
Kael didn't answer—not right away. Instead, he let the thought burrow deep, unsettling but not unwelcome.