The elders rose in unison.
not fast, not slow - btu with a deliberate gravity that made the hall feel suddenly smaller.
Elian tapped his cane once against the marble, and fractured mirrors around the Hall of Glass shivered. Their surfaces rippled like disturbed water, and then began to bleed light - not warm, not cold, but the color of memory.
"Step foward," said the parchment - skinned elder.
Isaiah obeyed, stopping where the light from the mirrors met in acircle on the floor.
"You will take the oath," the elder continued.
"and in doing so, you will carry your own ruin with you, sharpened into something no man can strip from you. This is your DOMA. Fail and you will not leave this hall alive."
No one moved. No one blinked.
Elian's voice cut into the silence. "You will not be asked to imagine. You will not be asked to pretend. The Covenant requires the truth - the very moment your soul broke, unshielded. We will see it as you see it. And if you lie..." His eyes flicked to the nearest mirror, where a smear of red was beginning to form. "... the Hall will see through you."
The light shallowed Isaiah.
The hall of glass was gone. He stood in the alley again - that alley. The smell hit him first: damp stone, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood. His own hands, younger, shaking, clutching the shirt of someone whose eyes were already empty.
He tried to move, to turn away, but the world pinned him in place. The scene replayed as it had - every sound, every pulse of guilt in his chest, the weight of the knife slipping from his grip. His voice cracked against the air. "I didn't mean-"
The elder's voice, distant but piercing, cut through.
"Speak the oath."
Isaiah forced the words out between breaths. "I swear... to carry what I cannot undo. I swear to hold the weight that bends me, to never set it down, and to never set it down, and to never forget its edge. My strength is my breaking, my weapon is my wound."
The alley dissolved into black.
The mirrors reformed around him, each one now holding his reflection exactly as he was - but with his eyes darker, deeper, like something had taken root inside.
The elder nodded. "The Hall accepts you. Your DOMA is sealed."
Isaiah staggered as the weight returned - not lighter, not heavier, but sharper. It sat in his chest like a blade pointed inwards, a constant reminder. He knew without being told: this was not a gift. It was a pact.
Elian stepped to his side. "Welcome to the Gentleman's Covenant, Isaiah Kaelen. Now, you will learn why you were truly called here."