Whispers echoed abound in the grand hall. Within the hall, tiered seating rose steeply from the polished marble floor to the soaring, ornately vaulted ceiling. Flickering torchlight glinted off gilded accents and the intricate carvings that adorned the stone walls.

From the highest balcony to the lowest tier, silhouettes filled the rows—it was an ocean of people, an ocean of thoughts, shifting and stirring like waves.

Seated on the second tier, a middle-aged man—perhaps in his early thirties—with neatly combed black hair and piercing green eyes leaned back in his chair. He donned deep indigo robes trimmed with silver embroidery.

However, on his chest, a distinct insignia stood out. The emblem bore a six-pointed star, its centre marked by a circle crossed with a diagonal slash with smaller circles adorning each point of the star—a mark that spoke of his identity.

An Official Mage.

The man shifted in his seat, glancing at the woman beside him. Her brown hair was neatly tied back, and her brown eyes darted around, scanning the crowd. She wore robes similar to his, bearing the same insignia of her rank.

"Psst!" He nudged her with an elbow, his voice pitched low. "Cat, any idea what's going on?"

The woman turned to him with a slight frown. "Stop calling me that, Gaspard. My name is Catherine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, Catherine," Gaspard replied with a smirk, though his tone remained hushed. "But honestly, do you know what is happening?"

"How should I know?" Catherine heaved a sigh, before crossing her arms and muttering. "I was holed up running calculations when I got the summons. Same as you, apparently."

"Calculations?" Gaspard raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're still chasing that theory."

"What if I am?" Catherine's gaze flicked downward, her voice softening. "The least I can do is continue his research." For a moment, Gaspard seemed to struggle with a response, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Like smoke, the words he wished to speak eluded him and drifted away. Finally, he slumped back in his seat, exhaling heavily.

The quiet tension between them mirrored the solemn air of the room, broken only by the ever-persistent hum of conversation around them. However, the sound of footsteps interrupted their introspection.

Tap!

Tap!

Tap!

The sound reverberated through the chamber, drawing everyone's attention to the stage. Gaspard and Catherine inhaled sharply as they recognised the figure ascending the stage.

"Grandmaster Zal..." they breathed in unison, their whispers almost reverent.

Despite this, their focus was quickly stolen by the figure walking beside Zal—a face neither of them immediately recognised.

"Who is that?" Catherine muttered under her breath; her eyes fixed on the unfamiliar young man standing beside Grandmaster Zal.

Gaspard, hearing her question, crossed his arms and leaned slightly toward her, his expression clouded by a deep frown. Heaving a sigh, he glanced at her before answering.

"You may not know this. After all, you're cooped up in your laboratory all the time..." Gaspard said, his tone edged with a faint trace of exasperation. "But that should be... Claude."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Claude?" Catherine repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue, but her confusion only deepened. "What's so special about him?"

"He..." Gaspard hesitated, the words seemingly difficult to say. "He's a mage... inducted from outside Elysium."

Catherine's eyes widened, and a faint tremor ran through her body. She froze, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. Gaspard turned to face her fully, concern replacing the frown on his face.

"Are you okay—?" His words of concern were abruptly silenced by a booming voice.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Zal began, his voice soft yet resonant enough to reach every corner of the auditorium. "I imagine you're all quite sick of seeing me on this stage by now." A ripple of polite chuckles ran through the crowd, though the tension in the air refused to dissipate.

"Well, fortunately for all of you, this will be brief." Zal's smile widened, his confidence radiating. "And I am by no means the highlight of today's meeting." He extended a hand toward Claude, who stood quietly at his side.

Murmurs of confusion swept through the chamber like a wave, each seated figure leaning forward slightly, trying to piece together the situation. But as their eyes settled on the young man, the murmurs ceased, replaced by stunned silence.

They had all seen it now. The emblem on Claude's robe—it was an intricate six-pointed star.

Gasps escaped from some, and silhouettes rose hesitantly from their seats, each one staring as though hoping to convince themselves it was an illusion.

"Yes!" Zal said, clapping his hands together once. "You've all noticed, haven't you? Allow me to confirm your suspicions." He gestured to Claude. "We have a new Official Mage within the folds of Elysium and a new member to be added to the Council of Elysium."

"Of course, I believe you also know what that means." Zal paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping the crowd. "Any volunteers to take the young man under their wings?"

The Council of Elysium. The governing body that oversaw all magical and political matters within their realm. Membership on the council was not just a position of power—it was a declaration of influence and strength. And now, they had gained a new member.

The realisation sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. Their silence only grew. No one spoke, but the oppression in the room was as tangible as the torches' wavering flames. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others sat rigidly still, their eyes locked on the young man before them.

Gaspard glanced at Catherine, whose expression was unreadable. He could see the tension in her jaw and the way her hands gripped the edge of her robe tightly. Around them, faint but frantic whispers began to rise.

"A wild mage..." Someone murmured. "How could this happen?"

"He's not one of us," another voice hissed. "Are we really going to let that happen again?"

They all remembered. Of course, they did. With their exceptional memories, they could not forget the incident, even if they so dearly wished to. The devastation that had followed it still haunted their collective consciousness.

But on the stage, neither Zal nor Claude appeared fazed. Zal's smile never wavered, and Claude's expression remained calm, his hazel eyes meeting their judgement with a still gaze.

"Really? No one?" Zal asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Tradition dictated that a newly inducted Official Mage be invited to join an existing project led by another Official Mage, where they would contribute to ongoing research and gain practical knowledge under a mentor. However, for the first time in years, no one was stepping forward.

The silence stretched on. Some turned to glance at one another, waiting for someone—anyone—to speak. The rest? They kept their gazes fixed firmly on the stage; their hands clasped tightly as though to resist the impulse to act.

"Well..." Zal's voice broke through the silence once more, this time with a faint note of mock disappointment. "I suppose that means Claude will have to start his own experiments... or perhaps he could join my—"

"Wait!"

The single word sliced through the air. All eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Amid the sea of seated figures, Catherine had risen to her feet. Despite her petite frame, she stood tall amid the sea of questioning gazes. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a quiet intensity.

"He..." Her voice faltered for a moment before she straightened her shoulders. "He can join my project."

A fresh wave of whispers erupted, louder this time, laced with disbelief. Gaspard's head swivelled between the stage and Catherine, his mouth agape.

"Cat, what are you—"

She didn't look at him. Her gaze remained locked on the stage, where Zal's expression shifted into one of genuine delight.

"Wonderful!" Zal exclaimed, clapping his hands together again. "Then it's decided. Claude will join your project, Catherine."

On the stage, Claude turned towards her, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, their eyes met.

Two souls—one hollow, one burdened with regret—were now swept onto an unknown path by the relentless tides of fate.