The votes were cast.The doors slammed shut.
Caelan stood in the echoing hall of the Heirless Court, his fists clenched at his sides. The verdict wasn't unexpected—but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. The Court, in its gilded hypocrisy, had voted to "observe" him from a distance. No formal exile, no execution… yet. But permission had been granted for open action should he demonstrate "further volatility."
They hadn't chosen judgment.They'd chosen fear.
He was to walk the realm as a blade unsheathed—watched, hunted, but not yet struck down. A death sentence in everything but name.
"They mean to provoke you into madness," Elira murmured, appearing at his side like shadow in motion. Her eyes, always sharp, were now dark with restrained fury. "They'll wait until you fall into their image of what you are. Then, they'll call it justice."
Caelan said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the marble dais where the Crownless Sigil had burned into the stone during the final vote—an omen. The Eclipsed Veil shimmered faintly in the back of his mind.
‹ Willpower +1 ›‹ Soul Fracture Deepened: [Loss of Anchor → Shattered Trust] ›
He could almost hear it laugh.
The council chamber emptied slowly—nobles in fine robes, whispers trailing like venom behind them. Among them, a figure lingered: slender, elegant, but wrapped in dark furs rather than velvet.
Lady Sirell of Duskvale, known throughout the Court as The Ash Widow. Her lands bordered the Wastes, a region long untouched by war but pulsing with quiet power. Her domain was not of bloodlines but of secrets. And she had not voted.
That alone made her dangerous.
As the last murmurs faded from the chamber, she approached.
"You impressed them," she said, voice like wine left too long uncorked. "Though I doubt that was your aim."
Caelan met her gaze. "They'd rather fear me than understand me."
"Ah," Sirell replied, smile untouched by warmth. "And yet they forget that power does not vanish when ignored. It festers."
She paused beside him, her gloved fingers brushing the scorched dais. "You stand at a crossroads, Caelan of Vereth Kal. Alone, they will break you. But not all Houses kneel to the Court's will."
Elira shifted closer, hand on her dagger's hilt, but Caelan raised a hand.
"What are you offering?" he asked.
Sirell tilted her head. "A pact. Not of loyalty, but of mutual survival. Come to Duskvale. There are things buried beneath my land older than any of the Seven. Things even the Watchers don't fully remember."
"You want something in return."
"Of course," she said smoothly. "My enemies grow bold. A Heir at my side—even one so controversial—would stay their hands. Appearances matter, you see."
A calculated alliance. She offered protection, knowledge, a base of power. In exchange, he'd become her symbol—dangerous, unstable, and hers. It was no different from how the Court saw him.
But unlike the Court… she was being honest about it.
"I'll consider it," Caelan said carefully.
She inclined her head. "Consider quickly. My invitation won't remain open for long."
With that, she vanished into the gallery, trailing whispers like perfume behind her.
Elira frowned after her. "You trust her?"
"No," Caelan muttered. "But I trust the Court even less."
They exited the chamber through a side corridor, footsteps echoing against the cold stone. At the far end stood a familiar figure, waiting in silence—Elias, the Grey Librarian of the Ash Monastery, once Caelan's would-be captor… now something else.
"I read the fragments," Elias said without preamble. "From the prophecy. The one hidden in the Ciphered Codex."
Caelan stopped walking.
Elias's eyes glinted. "The line was distorted, twisted by time and translation—but it's clearer now: When the Chain is severed, and seven stand where one should rise, the fire that burned the heavens shall awaken beneath a broken name."
A chill laced the air.
"The fire that burned the heavens..." Caelan repeated slowly. "That's not the Eclipse Throne. That's the Ashfall."
Elias nodded. "You are not the only Heir with a path to the Throne. But yours may be the only one that ends in ruin… or rebirth."
Elira stepped forward. "So we dig. We find what the Ashfall really means—and what Caelan's role is before someone else decides for us."
But Caelan wasn't listening anymore.In his mind, something pulsed.An ember.A memory.
A voice from long ago.Not his mother's. Not Elias. Not even the Veil.
"The fire sleeps in you, child. It will wake when the world turns its back. Don't let it consume you—unless you intend to consume it first."
He looked down at his hands. They didn't tremble. Not anymore.
That night, in the silent dark of their temporary quarters, Caelan summoned the Eclipsed Veil.
‹ Strength — 18Willpower — 23Perception — 20Intelligence — 17Charm — 5Thread Control — 32Resonance — 22Resilience — 18 ›
› Soul Fracture: [Shattered Trust]› New Trait: Covenant-Tempered — You have begun to understand the value of alliances forged in fire. Gain +1 to Negotiation under pressure.
› Hidden Status Unlocked: Ashborne Pact (1/3)— You have accepted the first part of the Ashfall legacy. This path cannot be walked lightly.
The screen faded.
Caelan turned to Elira, who sat sharpening her blade in silence.
"Duskvale," he said quietly. "We go there next."
She didn't look up. "To make a pact with a spider?"
"To see what's beneath her web."
Outside, the night deepened.And somewhere in the shadows of the Court, another Heir began to move.