Emmet sat behind the towering doors of the Colosseum, his fingers drumming absently along the ridges of his staff. He had mastered the art of traversing the cosmos, bending space and time to his will, yet here he was, faltering at the simple task of addressing a crowd.

The heavy creak of the doors broke his thoughts. Beyond them, a sea of expectant faces greeted him, the roar of their cheers barely muffled by the open air. The weight of their anticipation pressed against his chest like a vice.

“Ironic,” he muttered, shaking his head. “A battle-hardened sage, paralyzed by words.”

Stepping forward, Emmet raised his staff, its polished surface catching the light. The crowd quieted, their chatter fading into a tense, expectant silence.

“Tyranny,” he began, his voice firm despite the knot in his stomach, “is the monopoly of freedom.” The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. “Today, people of Xothmus, we end this monopoly.”

A wave of cheers erupted, thunderous and raw. The crowd swelled with energy, feeding off his every word.

“No longer will bloodlines dictate power,” Emmet continued, his voice rising with conviction. “We will build a new world—a world of freedom and results!”

The noise surged again, a cacophony of joy and relief. Faces once marked by years of oppression now bore tentative smiles, some even brimming with tears.

Emmet lifted a hand, silencing the crowd. “To rebuild, we need capable hands. Novus Academy opens its doors to all who are willing. Prove your worth in the Solitarium trials, and you will learn from the finest among us.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the audience. Before they could bombard him with questions, Emmet turned on his heel and disappeared behind the stage.

The crowd’s attention shifted as Ivy, Emmet’s sharp-eyed assistant, stepped forward. “You have heard the word of the Sage,” she declared, her voice steady. “Questions will be handled here by the magi. They will arrive shortly.” She raised a fist. “Long live Xothmus!”

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The crowd echoed her words in a thunderous chant, “Long live Xothmus!”

Behind the scenes, the air was thick with tension. In the meeting chamber, Ivy stood with her arms crossed, the red of her robes catching the light like embers in a fire.

“What were you thinking, walking off like that?” she demanded, her voice low but cutting. “Do you realize how reckless that was? If I hadn’t stepped in, we could’ve sparked a revolt!”

Emmet leaned casually against the wall, rolling his eyes. “Start a revolt? Really, Ive? We just helped them overthrow Ariel. They’re not going to turn on us overnight.”

Ivy’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so sure. You underestimate the fragility of hope. They’ve been burned before. Trust is a fickle thing.”

Emmet held up a finger, silencing her mid-sentence. “Listen to me, Ivy.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded.

“I sensed it,” Emmet said, his voice quieter now, but charged with urgency. “A sharp drop in Primis density toward the end of my speech.”

Her eyes widened. “Here? In Xothmus? That’s impossible. Ariel made sure no Primis user lived long enough to challenge him.”

“Exactly,” Emmet said grimly. “Which means something—or someone—is here who shouldn’t be.”

Later that night, Emmet stood in his quarters, the city quiet beneath the blanket of darkness. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, gleaming die. Its etched faces caught the moonlight, the symbols ancient and indecipherable to all but him.

On his bed lay a metal construct, its humanoid frame intricate and lifeless. He stared at it, his mind racing through the consequences of what he was about to attempt.

“Koventhorne’s finest craftsmanship,” he muttered to himself with a wry smile. “What could possibly go wrong?”

He closed his eyes, visualizing the die’s patterns with painstaking precision. The staff in his hand began to glow faintly, its light growing stronger as he pressed it against the chest of the construct.

Primis flowed from him in a torrent, an invisible force weaving into spellforms in his mind’s eye. The room trembled with energy, the air thick with power.

The construct jerked once, then twice, before a vortex of chaotic energy engulfed it. Primis swirled violently, filling the hollow shell with life.

Emmet let out a shaky laugh, then another. Relief and exhilaration swept through him as the construct stirred. “It worked,” he whispered, then shouted. “It really worked!”