The Council chambers were not meant for students.
Yet there Elian stood, beneath towering arches of white stone, the walls carved with runes of order and judgment. The room was vast, circular, with a dais at its center where the emissary waited. Guards lined the walls, spears gleaming in the light of floating orbs.
Kael and Lyra had wanted to come with him, but Headmaster Orin refused. "This is not a meeting for friends. The Council must see him alone."
Elian's steps echoed too loudly as he entered, every eye upon him.
The emissary sat at a long table—an austere man in deep blue robes embroidered with the sigil of the Council: a balance flanked by wings and fire. His hair was dark streaked with gray, his face severe, his eyes sharp as steel.
"State your name," the man said. His voice carried like a hammer against stone.
"Elian… Elian Ardent."
The emissary studied him in silence, as though weighing the truth of even that small answer. Finally, he leaned forward, folding his hands.
"You stand accused of wielding forbidden magic."
The words struck Elian harder than he expected. "Accused? I didn't—"
"You closed a Rift within the academy walls," the emissary cut him off, his tone neither raised nor lowered, but absolute. "Witnesses describe a surge of light unlike any sanctioned spell. Light that destroyed creatures born of shadow." His gaze narrowed. "Where did you learn this power?"
"I didn't," Elian said quickly. His palms were damp, his voice strained. "It… it happened on its own. I've never been taught anything like it."
The emissary's eyes lingered on him, cold and probing. "Then you carry within you something dangerous. A vessel, perhaps. Or a legacy."
He gestured, and one of the guards brought forth a crystal orb the size of a man's head, glowing faintly.
"This is a Veilstone. It reveals lies. Speak carefully."
The orb was placed before Elian. Its glow pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
The emissary's voice hardened. "What is the source of your power?"
"I don't know," Elian said. The orb flared faintly, but did not change color.
"Who placed the seal upon your chest?"
"I… I don't know," Elian repeated, but this time his voice faltered.
The orb flickered red.
Gasps stirred among the guards.
The emissary's expression sharpened like a blade. "You know something."
Elian's pulse thundered in his ears. His mind flashed back—his mother's figure, blurred in memory, shielding him from arrows, whispering words he couldn't recall. The warmth of her arms. The brilliance of light. And then darkness.
He clenched his fists. "I've seen… fragments. A woman. My mother. She placed it on me… before I was taken away."
The orb pulsed steadily, truth confirmed.
The emissary leaned back slowly. His face betrayed nothing, but his voice lowered. "So the stories were true."
Elian blinked. "Stories?"
The emissary rose, robes whispering against the marble floor. He paced, speaking not to Elian, but to the chamber itself.
"A child hidden. A seal of light placed upon him, powerful enough to mask his existence even from us. It was said to be rumor, born of desperate survivors. And yet…" He turned, his piercing eyes locking on Elian. "…here you stand."
Elian's mouth went dry. "What does that mean? Who am I?"
The emissary did not answer. Instead, he gestured to the guards. "Take him back to the Headmaster. Until the Council decides, he is to remain under observation. His movements restricted."
The guards stepped forward.
"No!" Elian burst out, anger flaring. "I've done nothing wrong! Those things would have killed us all if I hadn't—"
The orb between them cracked with a sharp sound. Light and shadow spilled from the fracture, hissing like steam. The guards froze.
The emissary's eyes narrowed. "Control yourself, boy. Or you will prove every whisper right."
Elian's heart raced. The crack sealed itself with a faint shimmer, but the message was clear. His power was unstable. Watching him, judging him, fearing him—everyone seemed ready to call him a danger.
And yet, deep within, that whisper returned. A voice not his own, old and weary, echoing from the seal:
"The chains will break. The truth will burn. Beware the ones who fear you most."
Elian staggered, gripping his chest, breath ragged. When he looked up, the emissary was watching intently—not afraid, not angry, but calculating.
"You are more than you know," the emissary said quietly. "And that makes you dangerous."
With a sweep of his robes, he left the chamber, leaving Elian surrounded by guards, his mind a storm of questions and dread.