The plaza before Nexus Council Hall had not been so crowded in years. Neon banners cast false daylight over stone steps that once only knew formal processions. Grav-drones hovered at every angle, recording and broadcasting to the districts below, so even the slums could see what was happening.
And at the heart of it all, a boy of seven years walked into the storm.
Jade's small frame was wrapped in a plain coat, blindfold tied neatly across his eyes, silvery-blue hair falling loose like strands of starlight. He didn't flinch at the noise, the stares, or the councilors who sat high above the dais like gods of a broken pantheon. He walked steadily, Niamh close at his side, Gorvoth just behind with his hammer slung over one shoulder.
The crowd reacted before the Council could speak.
"—That's him, the boy alchemist!"
"Saved my little girl with one potion!"
"He gave me a vial for free when the Guild wanted ten silvers!"
"A fraud! A monster!" another voice cut, sharp and hostile. "No beta child could—"
"Shut your mouth," a slum woman snarled back. "My husband breathes because of him. What's the Guild done for us except bleed us dry?"
The Councilors shifted uncomfortably.
At the center of the dais sat Governor Kael Varros himself, broad-shouldered, tall even seated, Dominant Alpha presence radiating like a storm contained within armor. His eyes swept the crowd with weary sharpness, a man too used to power and too aware of its burdens. Beside him perched Councilor Draven, slim, dark-eyed, sharp-featured, his smile too polished to be kind.
And to Draven's right sat the red-haired Alpha woman—Judge Karren of the Alchemist Guild. Her scarlet hair caught the neon glare, her lips pressed in disdain, eyes fixed on Jade like she could bore holes through him with hatred alone.
The Governor lifted a hand. Silence swept the plaza in waves, grudging but effective.
"People of Nexus," Varros began, his voice deep, steady, commanding. "You are gathered for inquiry. Allegations have been brought against the boy Jade—an unlicensed alchemist whose actions, while saving lives, may also endanger the stability of this city. The Guild has petitioned this Council. Today, we hear and we judge."
A murmur rippled, tension thick as smoke.
Karren rose first, robes of crimson stitched with the Guild's sigil draping her figure. Her voice cut like tempered steel.
"This… child," she said, disdain heavy in every syllable, "has circumvented every law binding alchemists within Nexus. He sells without license, distributes without regulation, and creates concoctions far beyond his station. Worse—" she let her gaze linger on the boy with something that was not just professional venom, "—his methods are unverified. Unnatural. Such… aberrations are dangerous."
She raised a vial from her sleeve, holding it aloft. The liquid shimmered faintly, pale-blue, unmistakably Jade's brew.
"Potions like these have no place in untrained hands. They alter essence, accelerate recovery beyond safe limits. We of the Guild have studied for decades to master such balance. A seven-year-old beta cannot stumble into perfection without dangerous, hidden means."
Draven leaned forward smoothly, voice like oil poured on water. "What my colleague says is true. The city cannot afford unknown forces stirring unrest. Already factions whisper of this boy. Already order trembles. Nexus is fragile—we cannot let a single spark ignite chaos."
The crowd shifted. For every suspicious glare, five more turned with anger at the Guild. Shouts rose:
"He saved my son when the Guild wouldn't lift a hand!"
"Unnatural? He gave my mother her legs back when your 'trained hands' demanded more credit than we could eat in a year!"
"Guild dogs! Parasites!"
The guards moved, but Governor Varros lifted his hand again. The crowd stilled, still simmering.
Then, slowly, Jade stepped forward.
He was so small. His boots barely made a sound on the polished floor. Yet when he spoke, his voice carried, calm as water, sharp as frost.
"I never charged more than what people could pay. I never asked for anything except what they could afford. And I never once sold a potion that harmed anyone."
Karren's lips curled. "And what of the regulations, child? You claim innocence, but innocence does not excuse illegality. Without the Guild, there is no safety. Without standards, you are a danger."
Jade tilted his head, blindfold shadowing the strange glow beneath. "A danger… to whom? The people? Or to your profits?"
The plaza erupted. Cheers, shouts, laughter at the barb. Even Varros's lips twitched, though he hid it behind a hand.
Karren flushed scarlet. "Insolence! You dare—"
"I dare speak truth," Jade interrupted softly, words precise, cutting through her rage. "When fever spread through the lower tiers last week, the Guild raised prices. I sold mine cheaper. When a child was poisoned by bad rations, you turned her family away. I gave them a cure."
His voice dropped lower, but somehow reached even the far edges of the crowd.
"I did not ask for power. I did not ask for attention. I only gave what I could. And you call that dangerous."
Gasps, murmurs. Draven's eyes narrowed. Karren trembled with rage, fists tightening.
Varros leaned forward, elbows on the desk, studying the boy like a puzzle.
"You speak well, little one," the Governor said finally, voice slow, deliberate. "But words are wind. Do you deny that your work unsettles the city? That factions rise with your name on their tongues?"
Jade turned slightly, lifting his chin toward the masses. His blindfolded gaze swept the crowd, though sightless, dual irises glowing faintly beneath.
"I cannot control what others whisper," he said. "But I can decide what I do with my hands. And I choose to heal."
For a moment, silence reigned—true silence, heavy as stone.
Then the people broke it with thunder.
"HEALER!"
"Savior!"
"Jade! Jade!"
Chants rose, raw and loud, echoing off the steel towers.
Kaelen slammed her fist on the table, rising to her feet. "This is manipulation! Look at him! No beta could wield such power. This is no gift—it is a threat!"
Her words were swallowed by the roar of the people.
Jade simply stood, still as frost, letting the storm whirl around him. His small fingers curled at his side, unseen frost gathering at the edges of the marble floor, faint mist rising in threads.
Draven's eyes glittered dangerously. Karren's nails dug crescents into her palms. But Governor Varros leaned back in his seat, one hand stroking his chin, gaze never leaving the boy.
For the first time in years, the Governor of Nexus looked as though he saw hope.
The council chamber trembled with noise.
The red-robed Alchemist Guild elder slammed her palm against the table, scarlet hair snapping like fire. "Do not be deceived by childish theatrics!" she barked. "This boy is a danger. He floods the streets with unstable concoctions, brewed without regulation, and feeds unrest. How many of you even know what he puts inside those bottles?"
Boos rolled across the chamber from the back rows, slum mercenaries shouting over her words. "Those bottles saved my son's arm!" one man roared. "The Guild wanted a thousand credits for a salve—this boy sold it for one silver!"
Another voice cut through, a woman's hoarse but steady: "My brother would be dead without his draught. Dead! And you'd have left him to rot!"
The people's anger swelled like a storm tide, pressing against the council's marble walls. Councilor Draven, seated high above with his usual serpent's calm, raised a single hand for silence. His voice carried, smooth as oiled steel.
"And yet," he said, "mercy without order is poison. Alchemy is not charity. Without standards, without control, the very lifeblood of this city rots. And we are to entrust Nexus City's safety"—he gestured lightly to Jade, who stood silent at the chamber's center, silver-blue hair catching the light—"to a… child? A Beta child, no less? Tell me, citizens, does that comfort you?"
The silence after his words was sharp as a blade. A pause, heavy, as if the city itself inhaled.
Then a low ripple of dissent broke it. "He's done more for us than you ever have!" someone shouted. Cheers followed, raw and untamed.
Niamh's old, calloused hand brushed Jade's sleeve as if to steady him, but Jade did not move. His eyes—those impossible eyes with their twin irises glowing faintly—lifted to Draven's throne.
"Councilor," Jade's voice rang, soft yet somehow cutting through the din, "if I am unworthy, then test me. Present a wound. Present an illness. I will heal it here. Before everyone. Not with words. With results."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even Gorvoth, arms crossed, shifted his weight at the boldness.
The red-haired Alpha woman shot to her feet. "This is mockery! A child dares—"
"Silence," Jade said.
The word struck like ice snapping in winter. A hush spread outward, unnatural in its sharpness. The Guild's Alpha froze mid-protest, her throat constricting as if frost had touched her lungs.
And then they felt it—just a flicker. The chamber's air grew thin, cold, edges rimed in a mist that hadn't been there before. It wasn't mana any commoner could name, nor a pressure they could place. But instinct screamed.
Something inhuman sat coiled behind the boy's delicate frame.
The crowd did not shrink. They leaned forward. Terrified, yes—but hungry, desperate, ready to throw their lot behind him if it meant breaking the Guild's chokehold.
The Guild, however, paled. Draven's eyes narrowed, calculating.
The silence held. Too long. Too deep.
Every breath in the council chamber fogged faintly in the air. Ice crystals crept along the carved railings, delicate fractals spreading faster than eyes could follow. The guards at the doors shifted nervously, their armor faintly frosting at the edges.
Niamh's heart clenched in her chest. She had seen this before—once, when Jade confronted the thieves at the Rift Junkyard drenched in silence, eyes glowing with something that didn't belong to a seven-year-old child. That same power whispered now, coiled like a serpent beneath his skin.
Jade took a single step forward.
His voice was calm, unhurried, too soft for the fear it carried.
"I saved lives when your Guild would not. I healed when you demanded money from the dying. And now you call me dangerous because people see you for what you are."
He lifted his hand. Frost bloomed in the air like petals, and in the center of the hall a glassy shard of ice formed, hovering with perfect symmetry. It pulsed once—then shattered into a thousand shards that dissolved into mist.
No attack. No blood. Just precision. Control.
But every person in the hall understood.
This boy could freeze the marrow in their bones with a thought.
The crowd erupted. Some screamed in awe, others in terror, but the noise rolled like thunder: "Jade! Jade! Jade!"
The red-haired Alpha woman staggered back into her seat, face pale with fury and fear. Draven's jaw tightened, but his eyes gleamed—predator meeting something even darker.