Chapter 18
The air inside the Grand Sanctum had grown colder since the last meeting. Crystalline lanterns pulsed dimly overhead, casting elongated shadows along the obsidian floor. Ancient runes etched into the high pillars flickered faintly—as though even they had grown wary of what stirred in the world.
Elaris stood alone before the Voidmirror — a relic rarely used, now humming with chaotic pulses of energy. Its obsidian surface rippled, reflecting not light, but shifting silhouettes and the faint outline of a sigil none could identify.
Behind her, footsteps echoed.
"Still watching?" said Maelon, his voice low. "The others are growing restless."
"I know what I saw," Elaris whispered. "That energy… it doesn't just distort magic. It consumes it."
Maelon stepped beside her. "Do you believe the prophecy was about this… Draziel?"
Elaris didn't respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the mirror. "No one was meant to awaken the Void Domain. And yet he has. We were taught it was purged… sealed."
"And if he can't control it?"
"Then the world won't be his to destroy. We'll have to act."
Elsewhere, across the Sanctum, the rest of the council convened. Arguments broke out, not just about Draziel, but about what to do now that the balance had shifted. One proposed direct containment. Another, alliance. A third—assassination.
Elaris returned to them only when the vote was called.
She raised her voice. "Before we decide his fate, I want one thing made clear: If we pursue him, we are no longer preserving balance. We are declaring war on the unknown."
The chamber fell into silence.
And then—one by one—the votes were cast.
The tension in the Sanctum was palpable. As Elaris's words echoed into silence, the council members exchanged uncertain glances. Each of them had their own reasons—political, personal, ancient oaths—to fear or exploit the Void Domain. But now, they had to choose.
The ceremonial orb in the center of the chamber shimmered faintly. A single tap upon it would cast each member's vote—*light for containment*, *shadow for eradication*, *neutral for observation*.
*Orund* stepped forward first. He was a tactician, not easily shaken, but the chaos he had sensed weeks ago unnerved even him.
He pressed his palm to the orb.
*Shadow.* "The Void must not be allowed to spread. Destroy him before it's too late."
*Lysara* followed. She had long held a deep respect for balance and life.
*Neutral.* "We do not yet know his path. I will not condemn him on fear alone."
*Thorne* grim and quiet, said nothing as he stepped forward. His touch turned the orb's glow dark.
*Shadow.*
*Caerith* bold and brash, looked toward Elaris. "I believe you. But if we wait too long, it might be too late."
*Shadow.*
*Kaelri*, hesitated. "He could be an ally if reached in time."
*Light.*
*Three votes for eradication, two for containment, one for observation.*
The deciding vote fell, at last, to *Elaris*.
She stared at the orb for a long moment. The weight of a thousand years of history seemed to rest on her hand. Her decision would shape the path forward—war or something far more uncertain.
She finally pressed her palm to the orb.
*Neutral.*
A hush fell across the chamber.
*Final Tally:*
- *3 Shadow*
- *2 Light*
- *2 Neutral*
*Result: Deadlock.*
Per the Council's laws, with no clear majority, a formal *Watcher* must be appointed to observe Draziel—one who would intervene only if he became a true threat.
And Elaris knew... *that watcher would be her*.
---
As the others slowly filed out of the Sanctum, their robes trailing like whispers behind them, Elaris remained. She stood still, her silver eyes fixed on the orb that now pulsed with the final verdict. A deadlock... but one that carried immense weight. She was now *the Watcher*—and that title meant far more than silent observation.
Behind her, the soft shuffle of steps echoed once again.
"Are you certain of this path?" asked *Kaela*, the Lady of Light. Her tone held genuine concern, not politics. "You've always walked the line between clarity and illusion, Elaris. The Void... it could tip even you."
Elaris turned, her expression unreadable. "That is exactly why I must go. He's not just a threat—we all felt it. But he's also... a pivot. Something about him can change the tide of this world. And I intend to understand what."
Kaela sighed, but nodded. "Then may the light guard your steps."
As Kaela left, Elaris approached a hidden alcove behind the throne-like chairs. With a whisper of ancient words, the stone receded, revealing a spiraling staircase that plunged deep below the Sanctum. Here lay *the Vault of Echoes*, a place only Watchers and Seers could access—where knowledge forgotten by most of the world still lingered in hushed, flickering glyphs.
She descended, the air growing colder and heavier.
In the Vault's heart, suspended within threads of arcane memory, hung a *soulmirror*—a relic that allowed a Watcher to glimpse truths not yet revealed, and walk unseen paths into a chosen target's subconscious. But only if a connection was formed first. Only if Draziel could *sense* her presence, even unknowingly.
Elaris reached out, her fingers brushing the surface of the mirror.
In an instant, a blur of images surged—*Draziel's burning eyes*, *a smoldered battlefield*, *the crackling of the broken obelisk*, *the unstable tendrils of Void*—and something else.
A child's voice. A name whispered in a tongue older than any known.
She gasped and staggered back.
"…What *are* you?" she breathed.
Now more than ever, she needed answers. But not just for the Council—for herself.
She gathered her cloak and turned. It was time to leave the Sanctum. Time to walk the world again.
*And meet the boy called Draziel Vale face to face.*
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