By dawn, the Academy had already rewritten the story.
The breach in the lower archives was described as a containment anomaly. The injured operatives were said to be stable. The damage, minimal. The danger, handled.
Officially, nothing extraordinary had occurred.
Unofficially—
No one met Vahn's eyes.
He walked through the central courtyard beneath the floating spires of Mystara, boots striking polished stone that reflected fractured morning light. Conversations dimmed as he passed. Not silence—never that obvious—but hesitation.
A fraction too long.
A breath withheld.
Two apprentices standing near the fountain glanced at his hands.
At the faint shimmer beneath his gloves.
One whispered, "He touched it."
The other replied, "No. It answered him."
Vahn kept walking.
The Source Stream felt different today.
Not unstable. Not hostile.
Just… aware.
Between heartbeats, he felt it—a subtle pause, like the world inhaling and choosing not to exhale too quickly.
A summons reached him before he reached the Tower.
Not spoken. Not written.
Inscribed directly into the Weave.
By authority of the Circle. Immediate attendance required.
Of course.
The Eleventh Seat Chamber
The chamber had not been used in decades.
Vahn knew that without being told.
The architecture shifted subtly as he entered—arches too tall, angles too sharp, a room built to hold something that was no longer there.
Ten seats formed a crescent.
The Eleventh stood empty.
Yet illuminated.
Principal Ardyn stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back. Around him, the Seats watched in silence—faces obscured by veils of controlled resonance, each signature distinct.
First Seat radiated precise control.
Third felt like quiet gravity.
Ninth burned like restrained wildfire.
"Vahn Romanoff," Ardyn began evenly. "You are aware of why you stand before us."
"Yes."
"You made contact with a void-adjacent anomaly tied to pre-Founding systems," the Third Seat said. Their voice was neither male nor female—only steady. "Without authorization."
"It was consuming the archives," Vahn replied.
"It was stabilizing," corrected the Ninth sharply. "Until Elias destabilized the anchor."
"It was feeding," Vahn said calmly.
A ripple of tension passed through the chamber.
The First Seat leaned forward slightly. "On what authority do you make that claim?"
Vahn held their gaze.
"On the authority of contact."
Silence.
Ardyn's eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but calculation.
"You spoke to it," the Principal said.
"I answered it," Vahn corrected.
The Third Seat's resonance shifted, faint but perceptible.
"What did it say?"
"It didn't speak in words," Vahn said. "It responded to structure. It lacked boundary. The Seat was designed to give it one."
A pause.
Then—
"And what did it take from you?" asked the Fifth Seat quietly.
The question struck harder than accusation.
Vahn considered the answer carefully.
"Nothing," he said.
A lie.
Not entirely.
Between heartbeats, there was now a space.
A thin, deliberate stillness that had not existed before.
The Ninth Seat rose slightly from their chair. "You expect us to believe a void anomaly tied to erased systems accepted correction without cost?"
"I didn't correct it," Vahn replied. "I prevented it from consuming."
"That is correction," Ninth snapped.
"No," Vahn said, voice steady. "That is conversation."
The chamber shifted.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
The empty Eleventh Seat flickered.
Just once.
Several of the Circle noticed.
None acknowledged it.
The Third Seat spoke again.
"The Seat has been dormant for centuries."
"Yes," Vahn agreed.
"And yet last night," Third continued carefully, "it registered resonance."
Not hunger.
Resonance.
The word hung in the air like a blade.
"You think it responded to him," Ninth said.
"I think," Third replied, "that it recognized him."
Vahn felt it then.
Not from the Circle.
From below.
Deep beneath the Tower.
A pulse.
Soft.
Measured.
Waiting.
Ardyn stepped forward before the exchange could escalate.
"Enough."
The chamber quieted.
"Vahn," the Principal said, voice firm but not unkind. "Until we determine the long-term consequences of your… intervention, your research access is suspended."
There it was.
The punishment that wasn't a punishment.
"Your prototype?" Ardyn continued. "Sealed."
A sharper strike.
"And you," the Fifth Seat added gently, "will remain within the Tower grounds."
Surveillance.
Containment.
Fear disguised as caution.
Vahn inclined his head once.
"Understood."
As he turned to leave, the Third Seat spoke one final time.
"Vahn Romanoff."
He paused.
"You claim the Seat was never meant to be silent."
"Yes."
"Then pray," Third said quietly, "that it does not decide to speak."
After the Circle
The corridor outside the chamber felt narrower.
He walked alone.
But not entirely.
There it was again.
That pause between pulses of the Source.
Not emptiness.
Not hunger.
Attention.
He reached a secluded balcony overlooking the lower spires and removed his glove slowly.
The Weaveborn mark shimmered across his palm.
Threads of lightning. Flame. Wind. Shadow. Light.
Interwoven.
Balanced.
And through the center—
A single, hair-thin strand of black.
Not corruption.
Not decay.
Integration.
It pulsed once.
Softly.
From somewhere far below Mystara—
Something answered.
Not in hunger.
Not in demand.
In recognition.
And for the first time since the breach—
Vahn did not feel like he was standing against the Void.
He felt like he was standing across from it.
The Eleventh Seat remained empty.
But it was no longer dormant.
It was waiting.
For him.