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📖 Chapter Eleven – Part One
The amphitheater was still humming when Alexander stepped out of the Trial. A thousand eyes turned toward him. He could feel the pulse of the Heart deep inside his ribcage, quiet but steady, like a sleeping dragon.
Nyx broke from the crowd first. "You're alive," she whispered, then caught herself and folded her arms, as though she hadn't just been worried sick.
Sera Valen stayed at his shoulder, one hand glowing faintly green. "His vitals are stabilizing," she said to no one in particular.
Above them, on the upper dais, the Citadel's Council sat in a crescent of black marble thrones. High Seer Caelith leaned forward, her face hidden behind a veil of woven starlight. Her voice carried like bells.
"The Ashborn Heart has chosen its vessel. The Trial of Control is complete."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the amphitheater. Some clapped. Some drew back in fear.
Alexander swallowed. He could taste ash on his tongue.
"I'm still me," he said under his breath. "I think."
Kael Serrin, the tall candidate who had mocked him from the first day, sneered openly. "You think you're one of us now? You're a weapon, not a person."
Alexander didn't answer. The old Alexander would have snapped back. This new Alexander simply let the words pass, though a flicker of silver fire danced behind his eyes.
The High Seer's gaze pierced him. "Your ascension changes everything. The Accord with the outside kingdoms is fragile. The Drakov Syndicate watches us. And the Ashborn prophecy—"
"Prophecy?" Alexander asked.
She tilted her head. "Later."
The Council erupted into arguments. Some demanded his banishment. Others whispered about using him as a deterrent.
Sera murmured to him, "Breathe. You're still shaking."
"I'm fine," Alexander lied. He wasn't. Since merging with the Heart, his dreams were full of a chained god, eyes like eclipses, whispering his name.
Then the amphitheater's doors opened with a hiss. A tall woman in scarlet walked in flanked by armored guards. She moved like a blade cutting through silk. Her eyes were pale gold, almost metallic.
"Veyra Drakov," Nyx whispered. "What is she doing here?"
The emissary smiled. "Congratulations, Ashborn vessel. My employers extend their greetings — and their concerns."
Alexander stiffened. "Employers?"
"The Drakov Syndicate," Veyra said, as though that should mean everything. "We have long prepared for the day someone like you rose. You could be a threat to the world's balance — or the tool that saves it. Either way, you belong under our watch."
Alexander's pulse spiked. The Heart stirred, heat spreading down his arms. He curled his fists, willing it back down.
"I don't belong to anyone," he said quietly.
Veyra's smile sharpened. "We'll see."