….
A soft rustle swept the chamber as servants filed in, each carrying a neat stack of folded pamphlets. They moved with rehearsed precision, placing one before each council member… and then before Zayn, Charolette, Chauncey, and Jasmijn.
Zayn accepted his with both hands, unsure if that was the proper etiquette. Chauncey blinked down at the parchment as though it were written in another language entirely.
Once the last pamphlet had been delivered, silence settled.
Aurene Varkas—seated at the center—slowly cleared his throat. Even that small sound rippled through the room, pulling every gaze toward him.
"Before you," he began, voice calm but weighted, "is a summary of our current situation. Our crisis."
He paused, allowing tension to coil through the air.
"Some among us have already been briefed—either through direct involvement in recent battles or through intelligence brought by our scouts."
Zayn glanced at Chauncey.
Chauncey shrugged helplessly, flipping his pamphlet upside down and then right side up again like the words might magically reorganize themselves.
Zayn wasn't doing much better. His eyes drifted across the lines, but none of it stuck. His chest tightened with the familiar sensation of being out of place—too small, too unprepared, too foreign.
He looked to Charolette.
She sat rigid, pamphlet held open with both hands, eyes scanning every paragraph with razor focus. She didn't blink. Didn't speak. Didn't lift her head.
Her silence told Zayn everything:
She wouldn't risk saying a single word until she understood every detail. Every angle. Every consequence.
Aurene continued, voice deepening.
"Intel from our Drenmarch spies reports that the Plugish are preparing an aggressive westward push. Their intent: to conquer and forcibly recondition the populations of several small islands—Webreine, Darthorn, and Shorkspiere."
A low murmur rippled among the council.
Zayn exhaled slowly. Those places weren't just dots on a map—people lived there. People like his own village. People who never asked to be part of a war.
Aurene allowed a beat of silence.
"Once those islands fall," he continued, "the Plugish are expected to turn their sights toward the country of Enuyi."
Charolette's head snapped up, eyes widening over the edge of her pamphlet—recognition sharp, immediate, personal.
Across the table, Selene Korr—the woman robed in dark fabric trimmed with gold—lifted her chin slightly, eyes narrowing.
Aurene went on.
"Enuyi is the closest major nation to our position here. Our priority must be to warn them of the imminent advance and secure a potential alliance."
Selene's voice cut through the air. Smooth, but edged like tempered steel.
"And the islands?"
Aurene looked toward Malric Toren, who answered with a low rumble of a voice.
"A portion of our army was deployed three days prior," he said, fingers drumming once against the wood.
"Their mission is to reinforce the island defenses and push Plugish forces back into the sea."
The room fell still.
….
The chamber buzzed with low, professional conversation—measured voices trading strategies, risks, timelines. The weight of nations hung between every sentence.
Selene Korr leaned forward slightly, gold-trimmed sleeves catching the light.
"If Enuyi refuses alliance, our lines thin. We cannot afford another fractured front."
Veyric Halden answered with a clipped tone.
"They won't refuse. Their borders are already trembling."
Kestrel Fynn tapped a quill against his pamphlet.
"And if Plugand reaches the archipelago first, we lose control of the eastern sea."
Malric Toren grunted, folding his massive arms.
"Then we should have sailed yesterday."
Aurene Varkas lifted a hand, quieting the room with effortless authority.
"We move with precision, not panic."
Before another voice could rise—
"Ahem."
Everyone turned toward Aurene as he shifted his gaze across the table… and landed on Zayn.
"Weissland."
Zayn stiffened. His eyes snapped upward.
The room's attention tightened around him like a noose.
Aurene continued, voice steady but heavy with expectation.
"We have been informed of the power sleeping within you. Kelios—the warrior bound to your soul. He once laid waste to the entirety of Plugand's forces. And he can do so again."
Zayn's breath caught.
And then the memories hit him.
Memories that weren't his.
Burning skies.
Screams melting into the roar of flame.
Bodies on scorched earth.
A blade that was not his in a hand that was not his—
cutting, burning, killing—
His knuckles went white on the pamphlet.
The chamber faded.
Voices drowned beneath a distant, monstrous heartbeat.
Yet, a voice broke through.
"Zayn."
His crimson eyes snapped back into focus.
Aurene's gaze held him firmly.
"Can you do it?"
Zayn opened his mouth—
but no words came.
The silence was suffocating.
Across the table, Corvin Zeal—the man with uneven shoulders—reclined back, arms folded, expression dripping disdain.
"I knew this was a waste of time."
A ripple of agreement followed—soft, muttered, poisonous.
Aurene's eyes flashed dangerously.
Every whisper died.
"Zayn," he said again, voice firm and final. "Can you do it—yes or no."
Zayn swallowed.
Then, slowly—steadily—the determination returned to his eyes.
"I can," he said at last. "But I don't want to win by using someone else's strength. If I rely on Kelios alone, I risk losing control. I need time to master my own Codex… and his."
Silence crashed back over the room.
Then Malric Toren scoffed—a heavy, derisive sound.
"So you expect us," he said, voice thick with ridicule, "to wait while you train? You think Plugand will hold the line until you feel ready?"
Zayn's confidence flickered—cracked.
Before he could speak—
"If I may."
Jasmijn's voice was clear, cutting clean through the tension.
"During my time on Valdyr," she began, "Zayn proved he has potential beyond ties with Kelios. Potential that surpasses many trained codex users. If he's given the opportunity to refine both his abilities and Kelios', he'll be an asset far greater than a reckless weapon. And far less risky."
Zayn's eyes found hers.
There—hope.
Hope he hadn't let himself feel since the vision burned through his skull.
Her grandfather watched her, pride glinting in the old warrior's eyes.
Aurene considered her words… then asked:
"And how much time do you believe is necessary for him to realize this… promised potential?"
Jasmijn opened her mouth—
"Six months."
Charolette's voice rang out before anyone else could speak.
Every head turned toward her.
Her posture was straight.
Her eyes were sharp.
Her tone was unwavering.
"Six months," she repeated.
"Our plan to warn Enuyi aligns with giving Zayn the environment he needs to unlock what's inside him. A journey of distance and necessity. His powers grow under pressure—under purpose. This path gives him both."
Chauncey's brows shot up.
Looks like she had been reading their father's book.
Murmurs erupted—
disapproval, doubt, surprise, curiosity, reluctant agreement.
"Five months."
Aurene's voice cut clean through the air with a counter—calm, but carrying the weight of a verdict.
A ripple passed through the council immediately. Chairs shifted. Robes whispered. Low murmurs erupted like distant thunder.
The woman in flowing white robes leaned forward, composure cracking.
"Grandmaster, you can't be serious—! this is a massive—"
"Silence."
The single word struck the room like a blunt blade.
She froze, lips pressed thin.
The chamber grew still again, colder than before.
Aurene continued, voice steady and immovable:
"Zayn's training will be conducted under the supervision of one of our council members. Someone capable of ensuring discipline, progress, and compliance."
His gaze swept the table—slow, calculating—before landing firmly on one individual.
"Voskeld?"
Jasmijn's grandfather cleared his throat quietly.
He straightened, gaze filled with regret.
"I am… unavailable for the next several months, Grandmaster. Preparations from the prior campaign still require my attention."
Aurene's eyes shifted—unhurriedly—toward Thessa.
Jasmijn stiffened instantly, a deep frown settling into her features.
She knew what was coming.
Thessa did too.
"High Magistrate," Aurene began, "your role in internal affairs requires you to familiarize yourself with all high-risk operatives. Your ability to enforce protocol is… unmatched. Zayn Weissland will train under your supervision."
Thessa's jaw dropped a fraction.
"Grandmaster, please," she tried, struggling to keep her voice respectful. "I can't possibly—my duties here, the backlog, the ongoing investigations—I cannot be pulled away for five months. It's— it's not practical."
"It wasn't a request."
The words landed like iron chains.
Thessa's mouth shut instantly.
Frustration etched itself across her face—clear, sharp, and simmering—but she didn't speak again.
Across the chamber, Jasmijn's irritation was obvious.
Not explosive—controlled, but burning.
Yet behind her crumpled brow, behind that fire, there was something else:
hope.
A strange, reluctant relief that Zayn wasn't being dismissed… or handed off to someone worse.
Charolette folded her arms, expression unreadable but tense.
Chauncey blinked once, unsure if this was good news or a death sentence.
Aurene shifted, addressing the entire room.
"As for our official directive: Commander Jasmijn Doutzen, your squad—along with Zayn Weissland and his companions—will depart for Enuyi tomorrow at dawn. Drenmarch's message must reach them before the Plugish advance any further."
He paused, letting the words settle like dust.
"High Magistrate Thessa Doutzen will oversee this journey."
Thessa's nostrils flared.
Jasmijn closed her eyes briefly, swallowing irritation.
Zayn felt every gaze on him again—heavy, expectant, suffocating.
Before Aurene could continue, Jasmijn stepped forward sharply.
"Grandmaster—may I request that the squadron who accompanied me on the Valdyr assignment continue with me to Enuyi?"
She didn't falter.
Aurene's glare slashed toward her.
He didn't ask why.
He didn't consider logistics.
He didn't even look around for dissent.
"Done."
Jasmijn exhaled quietly—barely, but enough that Zayn noticed.
The chamber thickened with the weight of finality.
Decisions had been carved.
Paths had been set.
Aurene rose slightly in his seat.
"This meeting is now adjourned."
The words echoed through the vast chamber, swallowing every last murmur, every secret thought, every unspoken fear.
And just like that—
Their futures were sealed.