The High Council of Khrumageth had never convened like this.
In the heart of the Ivory Spire, behind walls of enchanted ivory that had survived centuries, the seven councilors gathered—not in ceremonial order, but in panic. Their robes, once pristine, now looked like armor against something unseen. The room itself trembled with tension, as if aware that what they feared was no mere rumor, no distant threat, but walking freely among the streets they oversaw.
Archmage Valeris, the Council's most senior member, slammed his fist against the obsidian council table. The sound rang like a hammer striking glass, yet it barely seemed to register.
"He's here," Valeris said, voice tight with anger and disbelief. "I saw him myself. The wards failed… the city—every protective sigil we have—it faltered before him."
"Impossible," whispered Eryndor, Master of Memory. His hands shook as he clutched his spellbook. "Kael Ashryn has been gone twenty years. He—he should be dead. His magic stripped, his crest destroyed. Every record of his existence was erased. He cannot—"
"He is here," Valeris interrupted, his eyes dark, sharp. "And every moment we waste, he walks closer to the heart of the capital. By now, he may already be—"
"Destroying our wards?" Solmyr's voice, usually calm as a river, cracked. "We have the Ivory Spire's entire lattice! Our magic is eternal, immutable, beyond the reach of any mortal!"
A tremor ran through the room as if the building itself rejected Solmyr's confidence. Crystal panels flickered, data runes glitched, and the room briefly darkened, only to regain light as if nothing had happened.
"Immutable?" Valeris spat. "This is the same man you argued was expendable. You called him reckless. Dangerous. He's returned—and now, the city itself obeys him instead of us."
There was silence.
Silence that stretched long enough for every councilor to feel it pressing on their chest, stealing breath. Then, Eryndor broke it.
"What do we do? He is… beyond any rank we've ever measured. Beyond anything we have ever trained against. Our spells fail. Our memory magic, our binding runes—nothing works."
"Panic will get us nowhere," said Balance, the quietest of the seven, usually the voice of reason. "We need information. Observation. Containment. He will test us. We must anticipate—"
"Containment?!" War bellowed, slamming a gauntleted hand on the table. "You speak as if he is some child to be controlled! He is the Cataclysm Sovereign, the likes of which no mage has ever recorded. He—"
"Stop," Valeris said, voice slicing through the room like a blade. "We waste time arguing. Time is already gone. Every moment Kael walks the streets, our control erodes. Our wards, our citadels, even the very people we command—they falter before him. It is not just magic. It is reality itself bending. And we… we are powerless to stop it."
A scribe tried to speak. "High Council… the city… citizens report magic… failing. Floating carriages crashing… illusions… collapsing—"
"I know!" Valeris snapped. "We see it. We feel it. But we cannot act without a plan that works, and every plan we conceive fails before it is spoken!"
Silence returned, heavier now. The Councilors avoided each other's gaze. They knew what they feared, though none would say it aloud: Kael Ashryn was walking toward them, and every step was a countdown to the unraveling of everything they had built.
Solmyr finally spoke, voice trembling, almost too soft to hear. "The Veil… He moves like he understands it… like he's inside it. Perhaps it bends to him willingly. That… that is why our wards fail."
"Then we have one chance," said Valeris, tone grim, almost hollow. "We must assemble every living mage loyal to the Council. Every archive spell, every containment rune, every forbidden measure must be prepared. And yet…" He shook his head. "Even that may not be enough. We face not a man. We face a force we have created by erasing him."
Eryndor paled. "And if he decides… to show us mercy?"
"Mercy?" War laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Mercy died the day we burned House Ashryn. Mercy died the day we stripped his name. We will not see mercy now, only judgment. And it will be devastating."
Balance closed his eyes. "We have made mistakes. All of us. Our fear… our arrogance… we wrote him off as a threat. And now…"
A tremor ran through the chamber again, stronger this time. Crystal panels on the ceiling cracked as if acknowledging the truth of their words.
High above, the city trembled. Floating towers leaned slightly, wards shimmered and faded, and whispers ran through the streets. Citizens fled indoors, apprentices dropped their practice illusions, and the Ivory Capital itself seemed to exhale in recognition of the inevitable.
Kael Ashryn had returned.
And in the heart of the Ivory Spire, the High Council realized with dawning terror that everything they had built to endure, everything they had protected, everything they had controlled, would fail.
The first domino had already fallen.