"Yes, now that all the theatrics are done, we shall," Mauiree, the second child of the Chimera of the Woods and newly appointed successor of their house, Bellon, said as she idly traced the edge of the table with her finger, her gaze distant, exuding boredom.

The magistrate, who had been standing throughout the whole ordeal, cleared his throat again. "Yes, as Lord Telram stated, there have been many rumours-"

"Yes, yes, plenty of rumours." Mauiree tapped her fingers on the table, each thud punctuating her words. "I believe I speak on everyone's behalf by saying that we all remember and have ears. Baseless as they all are, we hear what they say out there of us, of our power. We want to know why exactly these rumours should be of any concern."

"Yes, a baseless rumour is hardly an issue that calls for a meeting", Lady Alleah agreed, her brows arched high.

"It is the Mestraye who are spreading these rumours." The magistrate said, his eyes darting back and forth looking, his voice small.

"So?" Rein interjected, his tone dripping with hubris as if this should be of any matter to him.

"The Mestraye have grown in supporters, therefore, in power," Reimar explained before expanding further. "Not only that, but they rally behind a figure-"

"If that is all, then I have better things to do with my time." Henreit drawled as he threw his arms up, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as if to imply this was all beneath him.

Reimar ignored the interferences and followed with, "This man, this figure, they have been garnering attention all over, and in the South, we have seen movements in two nations. I'm talking about bandits, criminals and even independent armies who fearlessly approach the borders of Ardovi. This is an unprecedented occurrence. "Reimar's jaws clenched as he stressed out. "Please, my Lord, sit down and hear the rest." A polite request to the brisk man.

"This isn't new; senseless people have always tried to break in. We need better security down south," said Elias, who came alone, the young master of House Gabor and son of Elthrame's wealthiest man, Thudos.

"Are you implying that my family, who has held the South longer than your lifetime, is lacking?" An austere old woman who had been silent until now spoke up, incredulous at what she considered slander from the young tycoon. Her mouth twisted, and she pointed a gnarled finger at Elias, warning him, "You're one to be pointing blame at others."

"Ah…no, Lady Bellon, I merely thought that perhaps-"Elias replied, this time perplexed by the hostility the older gentlewoman showed, who also turned out to be The Chimera of the Woods, herself, Lady Ghiselia, and she looked livid as she narrowed her eyes at Elias.

"Hahaha, Elias dear, perhaps you seemed to have pushed on a sore spot; otherwise, why would there be such a reaction if one does not need denials?" Lady Alleah quipped, her words filled with hidden laughter.

"Bite yer tongue, lass. You know naught of our dealings in the South."Ghiselia turned her gaze to Alleah and warned, her voice heavy and full of enmity.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She directed at the woman; she smiled, baring her complete teeth. Before speaking as if she had moved on, "And as for this man, a madman claiming to be one of us. How can he be of any threat when he's just another regular Arucanian? He isn't us; only those chosen can be one of us." A rhetorical statement directed toward Reimar.

"Exactly. Didn't we do so just then?" Henriet said, sounding exasperated. "I mean, choose." He scoffed as he rolled his eyes in an unsubtle manner.

"Enough, all of you!" Faroe's voice boomed, silencing the room. "You quarrel like children. I came here to hear what has been happening in the capital, but it seems like there is nothing of substance. My daughter and I will leave; we have long to travel."

"Wait right there!" Reimar's hand shot out as if to physically stop them, his voice carrying a sharp urgency that made everyone pause.

"This man, he isn't like any Arucanian. No, I suspect he isn't even one, to begin with." He said low and serious while he looked solemnly in front of his hand. He looked to be contemplating something.

"A Drifter? That is who we are concerned with?"Borishov said with a contemptuous tone.

At the same time, Janir spoke, "Uncle, this figure, it's a man? Have you met him?" Janir felt this figure was connected to what he'd heard in the Subterrains about magic dying.

"Yes, I was sent by the tower to investigate, and I met, no, I saw him, witnessed him do things no ordinary-" he answered before diverting, "This man, he is not like any Drifter. He can draw energy from the Aether and use it like an Arucanian mage; he also-"

"Then maybe he is an Arucanian, pretending to be a Drifter to play messiah to them all." A woman spoke, who Janir recognised as Illyia of Lebretan, his great aunt from his mother's side.

"No, I know the difference between an Arucanian and a Drifter" Reimar's voice rose as he gritted his teeth and veins popped out at his temples, cutting through the interruptions. "This man had no energy within his core," Reimar said, shaking his head in disagreement.

A ripple of murmurs swept the room. Janir's eyes darted to the attendees, their faces a mixture of shock and guarded scepticism.

"And yet he can use and manipulate energy extracted from the Aether?" Illyia, the usually composed woman, faltered as she asked, seemingly shocked.

"Yes," was the simple answer he gave.

"How is that possible?" Sadreas asked, before suggesting, "Are you sure you aren't mistaken?"

"I am sure. I went to what seemed to be Mestraye's congregation, and he was there. Among the Drifters, I felt for his core but felt no trace of an Arucanian essence." Reimar said, his mouth a grim line.

"Ha! There is no way," someone let out a chuckle, their disbelief evident.

Reimar didn't retort; instead, he lifted one of the sleeves on one arm, revealing a red rune of charm scribbled all over his skin in circles and swirls. His hand hovered over the scribblings, whispering incantations, and lifted the allure off. The room stilled as he revealed a vile sight.

His arm, no, what seemed to be left of his arm, was a mangle of putrid skin and bone. It had deep gashes of ebony that seemed never to close, gaping wide to show some of the ivory of his bones. It oozed a thick green pus as though on cue; it smelt as repugnant as it looked.

"Uncle..." The word was a strained whisper filled with disbelief at the horrid sight. Janir's stomach churned, and he clenched his jaw to keep his composure.

"Is it?" Illyia asked her face a picture of startlement, but she already knew, like all the people in the room.

Lady Alleah raised a trembling hand to her lips. "Sivras," she whispered, naming the long-condemned dark magic with reverent horror.

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"Not only that, he can use it at the same level as a Holy Magis mage, maybe even as well as one of the", Reimar said, his composure lost and clouded as if haunted by ghosts only he could see. Not continuing with what he was saying, he instead said, his voice thin with the weight of memory, pointing to his damaged arm, "This happened over a full moon ago, and it festers still, resistant to any form of healing."

That long ago, and it still hasn't recovered? Janir wanted to ask but could not find his voice, with a lump in his throat and a pit forming in his stomach. How had he not known about this? Surely, his father knew about it.

The room buzzed with tension. Borishov looked stricken, and his bluster drained as if he feared the infection could leap across the space between them. Even Rein narrowed his eyes, a flicker of unease betraying his confident facade.

"That's impossible!" Farroe's deep voice cut through the murmurs. "Sivras has been forbidden for centuries. Anyone foolish enough to wield it would be hunted and executed."

Reimar's eyes locked with Farroe's. The intensity in his gaze held the weight of unsaid words, something primal and raw. "Impossible or not, I saw it. And more than that, I felt it."

He lowered his voice, the following words barely more than a whisper that prickled the air. "He knew I would be there as if he'd been expecting my arrival."

A hush fell over the room, cold and absolute. The assembled nobles exchanged wary glances, their bravado stripped away, even if it were only mere seconds it revealed them.

"Who is this man?" Lady Goufray asked the one question everyone wanted to ask, her voice brittle.

Reimar didn't answer immediately. He was staring at the ruined remains of his arm as if seeing it anew. "He is called Isandul Relarkke," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet theirs. "And he commands not just the allegiance of Drifters but also the faith of many Arucanians."

A shiver passed through Janir. It was not just the name or the claim of godhood that made his skin crawl but the quiet certainty in Reimar's voice, as if he had witnessed something that defied understanding.

"That means—"Sadreas said, her eyes glazed as if she were trying to recall a memory.

"Isandul, one of the Onhar Gods?" someone scoffed, but Janir did not see who. "Reincarnated? Ha! These lowlifes have nothing better to do than make up a messiah. To what? Shake us? Our people's faith?" Janir followed the voice and saw that it was Borishov, chin lifted high, who spoke with renewed bravado. Perhaps he wasn't as hard as people claimed him to be. Janir tried to hide his disdain by looking elsewhere.

"As I said before, I went to investigate this figure; I went to where the first rumour began, the Subterrain and asked around", Reimar began to explain, "That led me to find out that there had been congregations, though it started small, it has been rampant throughout the decrepit parts of the nation, the Slums of Igor and even as far as the Perished Harbour," Reimar stated as he looked at Farroe, whose ginger brows was furrowing as he grunted, but didn't say a word. Reimar exhaled, glad to be uninterrupted. He took another moment and continued.

"And, of course, the Subterrains of the capital. There, I found that another congregation was to take part, and I was fortunate and, I suppose, unfortunate to have seen the man," Reimar said absently; his mind seemed too far from the present. His eyes were downcast and vacant.

"And what happened when you came across him?" Lady Goufray asked, leaning closer to the edge of the table, eager to hear more.

Reimar looked her way and shook his head slightly, shaking his daze. He continued, "During the congregation, it was—" Reimar stopped speaking, his face scrunching. "How do I say this?" He paused again. "Ermm, well, it was, it was—"he repeated. "It was strange."

"Strange, how so?" Illyia's brows furrowed together, and her eyes squinting in focus.

"When he arrived at the congregation, it felt as if the atmosphere was changing, transforming, and somehow I knew that this was due to his presence as if he was changing reality itself," Reimar noted, the words flowing as he painted the scene.

"Air felt heavy yet light; I could taste its metallic tang, which was unnatural. Rhythmic chanting began, not from the people around, but from distant, unknown whispers."

From Janirs peripheral vision, he could see the hairs on Reimar's standing in alert. He felt his own stand as shivers racked through his body. He clenched his fist, crescent marks forming where his nails dug hard.

Reimar recounted his horrific encounter further, compelled to say, "Even light itself seemed to be absorbed by him. The room and the people around were engulfed by darkness. I couldn't see his face under the hood he wore, but from a distance, I could feel his eyes in the dark. It was as if the shadows had come alive and were watching me, awaiting his command." Reimar halted, his voice pitching low, broken at the end

"But that's not what is important. It's the Arucanians that were present." Reimar gulped down, lifted his chin up, and, with his brows set straight and determined, used that to take a moment before divulging something outrageous. "He seemed to be feeding. No, they gave him their energy; he was absorbing it, but I don't know how he did it and where it went since I didn't feel it go to him."

Audible gasps were in the room; tension and murmurs rose from the crowd. "That can't be right!" but Reimar continued undeterred.

"It was what I witnessed, so when the congregation finished, I followed him. And he led me deeper into the heart of the Subterrain, and when our gazes met, the air grew dense, pressing on my chest as if the room held its breath. And just when I thought I had cornered him and I was going to apprehend him, he took hold of my arm and—" Everyone looked at the Reimer's arm still exposed and decomposing before their eyes; some were glazed with sympathy while others something else, worry.

"I felt for the energy in my arm but found it... absent. Not drained—taken." Reimar's voice was hoarse and exhausted.

"His hand had barely grazed mine, and yet the pain was a searing heat erupting from under my skin. The pain was as if shadows themselves had gnawed on my bones. I was lucky enough to stop the flow of magic. Had I been too late in reacting, I would have- after I came to, he had vanished before my eyes." Reimar resigned his speech as he reached to unroll his sleeve, finally covering his arm, concealing it and his shame

"Then we need to cull out this man and his supporters." Illyia, raising her fist like a gavel, was ready to condemn them as she hammered it down, shaking the table with fury. Her tone was eerie and serious, not a promise but a threat.

"Surely, this task won't require more than the families residing here in the capital," Farroe pulled and scratched at his braided beard, deep in contemplation, suggested.

"But the only families who reside here in the capital are Telram, the absent Rothsani and Elyseen, who have now been conscripted out from the twelve." This time, Janir found his voice, wanting to clarify the obvious. "This man's abilities are unknown to us all. Perhaps we should thread on the careful-"

"Then are you saying that your great house cannot handle one man, a Drifter at that?" it was the Rein who spoke, his mouth a sneer and his eyes glinting with malice as he interjected. He wanted Janir to squirm, and he was doing a fine job.

"I didn't say that, only that after what my uncle—"Janir started to argue, wanting to defend his family.

"I speak on my brother's behalf since he will be away for many weeks, possibly months, and I am uncertain when he will return. So, I declare this; Telram will take the lead in finding this man. But know one thing: your houses must show support by agreeing to cooperate with us in investigating who is backing this man and who his supporters are." Reimar's voice was unmistakably clear; he meant business.

"Ah! You say you speak on Jahas's sake, but will he approve of you making such an accusation?" Borishov blared, his fist making a loud thud as he pounded the table.

"Yes, that's right. Do you suggest that one of us is aiding the rebellion?" Ghiselia spoke, her hand clutching at her chest, feigning hurt.

"No, I make no accusations to any of you, but to do a thorough job, we will leave no stones unturned, and there should not be any worries for any of you if you have nothing to hide, yes?" Reimar smiled politely, and his earlier calm and collected composure was restored. It seemed to appease the group that there was no further outrage. But in Reimar's eyes hid something in their depths.

"I only want to say one last thing. This man, whoever he may be, must be found." it was a solemn oath, vowed by Reimar.

A resolute agreement formed within the room, with many families wanting to scurry home. But not without promising to arrange another meeting, this time with only the heads. This was how the meeting ended. But the atmosphere was left heavy and unfinished.

As Janir rose to stand and proceeded to leave, his uncle whispered, “Stay in place. I need to talk to someone briefly, and then I will come and get you."

Reimar stood from where he was crouching beside Janir's ear, then went directly to Illyia and pulled her to the side. He leaned in to say something to her ear, much like what he had done for Janir. Illyia looked around the room, her eyes stopping at Janir's face before then nodding her head. They both acknowledged the people they passed with a quick nod as they walked on and opened a hidden door on one of the wall panels. No one seemed surprised that a room was hidden in the walls. Perhaps there was even more than one.

Janir wanted to follow. He wanted to know what his uncle needed to discuss with his great-aunt in secrecy. And after some consideration, he was determined to go and follow the duo. He was the heir of Telram, and he deserved to know everything happening in their nation, including his uncle's business.

Someone spoke behind Janir as he was prepping to go to the wall where his uncle and Illyia had disappeared. "Weaklings have no place in this council."

Janir turned his head to see who was speaking and was not surprised to see that Rein had been the one who spoke.

"I have every right as you to be here. I am my father's heir and successor," he didn't want to admit it, but it would be a lie to say that he did not feel threatened by the other boy's claims.

"Then how unfortunate for your family. They'll become weak with you leading them." He taunted, his mouth lifting at the corners, his yellow eyes glowing ghostly. It held so much hostility for Janir, but why? He did not know.

Janir was quiet; he didn't want to feed into Rein's bait, although even if he did want to, Janir didn't know what to say to defend himself because, deep down, he knew it to be true.

Rein was not done with Janir, so instead of leaving like his father had proceeded to do, he derided Janir some more. "We had already gotten rid of one of the Twelve, and another family who shows as lacking will not be difficult."

"My father is the Kaiser of the—" Janir loudly exclaimed, his hands forming a fist. He had decided that enough was enough. Insults to himself were founded, but to tarnish his family's name, he knew crossed a line.

"That's enough, boy," Reimar spoke, preventing an enraged Janir from spilling any more barrages of words.

Janir did not notice Reimar returned. “Leave now while I ask nicely,” his uncle added, his voice low and cautionary.

Rein glared at the other man before refocusing his gaze at Janir, "You watch your back."

Finally, he left without another word.

"Uncle, he dishonoured our family; why didn't you say anything to his father?" Janir asked.

"Going to his father to tattle will dishonour our family. Rein is just a foolish boy; he knows not what he thinks he knows," Reimar explained. "Now, let's go." His words were final.

"Wait, uncle, why did you speak with—"

"There are many eyes and ears within these walls. I'll explain soon." His uncle leaned in to whisper, ushering him to a quick pace as they passed the dark halls. Janir cautiously looked at the walls, expecting someone to jump through, but nothing happened.

As they left the halls, Janir could only think about the rumour he had heard while down the Subterrains; there was some truth to it. A power shift was at play, and it was happening now. It was the time when the great houses would fall, and a new era would begin.

"Remember this day. Should you all be doomed to the same fate and lose it all, know that it started here," Cielo's words rang in Janir’s head, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.