The Hall of Eternity was a tomb of ambition, its obsidian arches swallowing the clatter of armored footsteps and the hiss of whispered alliances. The air reeked of salt and iron—blood on the tide, ambition in the marrow.
Three tiers of power loomed:
- The Inner Circle (Royal Houses) – Seven gilded thrones: House Pendragon's inferno, House Storm's lightning, House Poseidon's trident, House Tepes' shadow-wolf, House Terra's quake-stone, House Vargas' silver caduceus, and House Siegfried's golden scales.
- The Blood Ring (Vassal Houses) – Fifteen iron thrones, their occupants sharpening blades or tongues.
- The Outer Rim (Military & Academies) – Seating shadows, their loyalty as fluid as their strategies.
A hush fell as Chancellor Orpheus entered, his skeletal frame draped in robes woven from what looked like solidified smoke. His staff—a twisted amalgam of bone and black crystal—tapped once, and the hall's torches flared violet.
"It seems we have vacant seats today," his voice slithered across the chamber. His hollow gaze lingered on House Poseidon's empty throne, its trident sigil weeping phantom seawater. "But nonetheless. Begin."
Arthur Pendragon rose first, firelight licking the edges of his crimson armor. "The Hands of the Divine carve sigils into our walls. They slaughter students. They executed a Duke-rank in his own premises." His gauntlet slammed down, scattering embers. "And yet Arachis Academy—" his glare speared Winston, "—harbors a commoner while nobles bleed."
Winston's hand tightened around his whiskey glass. So they know. He met Arthur's gaze. "What does a commoner have to do with terrorists, Lord Pendragon? Or are we here to debate ideology instead of survival?"
From the Blood Ring, Lord Ironveil of Vassal House Ironveil spoke. "Ideology is survival," he muttered, though all heard. "Or have we forgotten the Purge of the Unblooded?"
Lady Terra of Royal House Terra—her bronze skin etched with tectonic scars—leaned forward. "A fair question. But let us hear of the attacks first." Her fingers flexed; the stone bench beneath her cracked like a fault line.
The headmaster of Heaven's Gate Academy stood, his face weary. "Thirty-three guards dead, their bodies branded with their symbol." A hologram flickered above the mosaic floor—a corpse's ribcage branded with a staring eye embedded in a palm.
From Stormbreak's shadowed corner, a voice rasped: "Eleven second-years. Awakened. Now vegetables. Their VR training pods were rigged."
General Graham of the Grand Alliance Military scoffed. "Gods damn these spineless bastards, You want war? Attack my forts. But children? This isn't battle its butchery."
Lucian Frey, lounging in his seat like a windblown predator, chuckled. "Two elite academies breached from within? Close your gates. Save your heirs the embarrassment."
Arthur's sword ignited. "And let the rabble see us cower?"
"The rabble already knows," General Graham said, his scarred throat twisting around the words. "They whisper about Breaking Dawn." His eyes cut to Winston and the other principals present. "How long until all your schools end up the same?"
"Shelter pricks." He muttered.
"Enough." Lord Siegfried's voice was a blade of distorted time. The golden scale in his palm tilted, its balance defying gravity. "We are not here to squabble over peasants and what may or may not happen. Poseidon's absence is the true insult."
As if summoned, the hall's doors exploded inward.
A cold, moist wind blew into the hall as Lord Poseidon strode in, his cloak dripping with the weight of the abyss. "Apologies," he drawled, shaking kelp from his cloak. "The tides were... uncooperative."
Behind him, three armored figures dragged a net filled with thrashing, black-scaled creatures—Deep Maw leviathans, their maws still gnashing. Poseidon kicked one aside. "Gifts from the Trenches. Shall we vote on who tests their venom first?"
Ragnar Storm's lightning arced across the chamber. "You disgrace this conclave!"
Poseidon grinned. "Your father disgraces this conclave by sending a mere boy. Shut it, and I might let you keep your little thunder."
"Enough!" The hall trembled as Councilor Orpheus raised a hand.
Winston seized the silence. "If Heaven's Gate and Stormbreak academies were also breached, no institution is safe. Not even this room." He pointed to the heads of other academies present in the room. "I could be next, you could be next."
A beat. Then—
Lucian Frey's wine swirled on its own, defying gravity. "My niece claims your commoner is quite interesting. Coreless, no?"
Wein Snyder's dagger froze mid-polish. "A Null?"
From the Outer Rim, a silver-haired woman in a medic's uniform spoke for the first time. "Medically impossible. Without a core, the Aether should've ripped him apart." She added with mockery in her voice, "Your niece and her obsessions."
"Enough about the rat!" Arthur roared. Fire engulfed his throne. "We face a war—"
As if summoned, the lights dimmed and a holographic screen flared in the midst of the conclave. A new report: a military institution had been struck by the Hands of the Divine, completely wiped out—no survivors.
A silent chill descended on the hall. No more squabbles, no more debates. Just the cold truth shoved down their throats.
"Bloody fuckers!" General Graham muttered, his knuckles white as he barely contained his outrage.
"They want to tell us nowhere is safe," Nicolas Knight, Lord of Vassal House Knight, said softly.
"I want them dead. Gone!" General Graham roared.
And then Councilor Orpheus moved, his long staff clicking against the floor. No one knew how old he was—only that he had presided over the Hall of Eternity since before the Royal Houses rose. His face was unreadable, his skin parchment-thin over sharp bones.
He paused beside Poseidon's leviathans. One snapped at his robes. Without looking, he tapped its head with his staff. The creature imploded into a wisp of black smoke.
"Let us begin this meeting properly," he said, his tone final.