Thunder still rolled over the Academy as dawn broke, washing the sky in bruised shades of purple and gray. Smoke rose from the shattered wards around the Grand Hall, and the once-immaculate spires now stood cracked, veined with lingering mana scars.
By sunrise, the world already knew.
The Council of Tamers had declared Rebellion Containment Protocol—the first in two centuries. Lyn's name was whispered like a curse among the trainees, though half of them said it with awe.
He waited in silence as the armored escort led him through the Hall of Chains. Unlike the dungeons below, this chamber was meant for show—a long corridor lined with crystalline restraints that pulsed faintly with captured mana. Each was said to hold the will of a spirit that had defied its master.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
Umbra's voice was quieter than before, faintly echoing through their link. —They're masking the bond. I cannot see through these walls.
"They don't need to see you," Lyn murmured under his breath. "They already fear what you are."
At the end of the hall, a great circular platform awaited, etched with the sigils of the Seven Crests—symbols representing each Council seat. Figures appeared one by one, stepping from shimmering portals: seven masters cloaked in white and silver, their faces hidden by veils of mana.
The Grand Arbiter, voice cold as carved stone, spoke first. "Lyn of Division Seven. You stand accused of treason, unlawful invocation, and the awakening of a forbidden crest. Do you deny these charges?"
Lyn met their gaze, unflinching. "No."
A ripple of surprise passed through the chamber.
"I don't deny them," he continued, "because they're true. I unleashed Umbra to stop you from tearing her apart for your experiments."
Another Councilor's voice cut in—an older man with trembling hands clasped behind his back. "You misunderstand, child. The forbidden crests are not weapons of malice, but safeguards of balance. Umbra's lineage once sought dominion over all spirits. You have reignited that threat."
Lyn took a step forward despite the guards' warnings. "Balance? You breed copies in silence and call it balance? You carve the will out of spirits to make them obey!"
His words echoed through the chamber like a physical blow. Even behind their veils, several Councilors shifted uneasily.
The Arbiter's tone hardened. "Enough. Bring forth the witness."
The side doors opened—and Lyn's breath froze.
Master Velan. Bound, kneeling, his wrists marked with crimson seals.
Velan's eyes met Lyn's for only a second before lowering. "Forgive me, Lyn. The Council's chains reach farther than you can see."
The Arbiter's staff struck the floor. "Velan, you stand accused of initiating the Mimic Bond project in violation of the Divine Accord. Name your collaborators."
Velan's lips twisted into something that was almost a smile. "You ask for names? Then start with your own."
A hush fell. The mana lights dimmed.
Velan lifted his head. "The Mimic Project was never a rogue act—it was your will, Arbiter. You ordered it sealed beneath the Archives to continue the creed: 'A perfect bond obeys without question.'"
Gasps rippled through the attendants. The Arbiter raised his hand, but it was too late. The suppression seals flared red—Velan's bindings ignited, consuming him in a blaze of raw mana.
"Stop it!" Lyn roared, but the guards held him back as Velan's form dissolved into light, his final words whispering through the air:
"Seek the Eighth Crest… before they do."
Then nothing. Only ash.
Lyn's fury broke through the suppression wards, his crest burning with Umbra's dark flame. Chains of blue light rose from the floor, wrapping around him as the Arbiter's voice boomed above the chaos.
"Contain him! Do not let the shadow merge again!"
Umbra's whisper was barely a breath in his mind. —You cannot break these chains alone.
Lyn closed his eyes, blood running down his wrists as the bindings tightened. "Then help me from within."
The chamber trembled. One by one, the crystal restraints along the walls shattered, releasing faint echoes of imprisoned spirits. Their cries joined Umbra's hum, forming a low, resonant pulse.
The Arbiter's staff cracked. "What are you doing?!"
"Showing you," Lyn said, voice calm amid the storm, "that the bonds you think you own still remember freedom."
The pulse became a roar. Light and shadow fused, exploding outward. Chains melted, and the Council's banners ignited in spectral fire. When the haze cleared, Lyn was gone—only scorch marks and a fading whisper remained.
—The Rebellion has begun.