Year 3918 of the Almanac of Ages, Kingdom of Solstice capital Whirich.

Elynor Thorne

The Arcanum, a magical colossus that had stood imposing for centuries, seemed to expand endlessly. Each new department added integrated perfectly with the ancient white marble buildings that gleamed like snow under the sun. The blinding white reflected light so purely that it made it difficult to look directly at the surfaces without being dazzled. Along the immaculate corridors, thin veins of arcane energy traversed the walls like delicate luminous cobwebs, pulsing rhythmically with the building's magical flow.

The atmosphere in the administrative department was solemn, almost oppressive. The high ceilings and marble columns that seemed to touch the sky contributed to a sense of insignificance. The runes carved into the columns glowed faintly, silent witnesses to the power flowing through the Arcanum. Here, every stone seemed to hold history, as time bent to the will of the mages.

My footsteps echoed in the silence, a slight tinkling as my cloak lifted slightly, pushed by the breeze that blew through the corridors. The familiarity of that place, crossed countless times, began to dissipate the anxiety I had felt until that moment. There was no reason to fear. I knew those faces, those dynamics. I was ready.

Arriving before the great Council door, a guard in white and gold armor scrutinized me for a moment, as if to ensure it was really me. Without a word, he opened the door with a fluid movement, letting the light creak accompany my entrance.

The Council chamber was breathtaking. Located atop one of the Arcanum's central towers, the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting epochal events and forgotten battles. An enormous window showed the view of the capital, letting natural light illuminate the environment. At the center, a gigantic inlaid wooden table dominated the scene, large enough to host dozens of people. The Council members were already seated, the department directors in their places, each immersed in their own thoughts, while their assistants positioned themselves at the sides, ready to take notes.

I recognized many faces. Some directors greeted me with a nod, which I returned with a detached look. Among them, Lord Verrik, director of the Arcane Division, dressed in his usual black cloak bordered with silver, silent and threatening like a distant storm. Beside him, Lady Mariah of Elemental Magic, with her nose buried in an ancient tome, ignored the tense atmosphere of the hall.

I took my place, preparing for the meeting. The air was strange, heavier than usual. There were no discussions, none of those usual heated conversations that filled the wait. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.

A slight murmur crossed the hall but fell silent immediately when a figure emerged from the shadows at the back. The Grand Magister of the Arcanum, an elderly man but of proud bearing, entered with slow, measured steps. He wore a white and gold tunic, symbol of his rank, and his face, marked by deep wrinkles, conveyed a solemn calm. When he spoke, his voice was always peaceful, but charged with undisputable authority.

He sat in his place on a large chair, carefully placing a file on the table before him. He raised his gaze, looking at each of those present before speaking. His voice, as usual, was devoid of emotion but firm.

"I have just been informed of the results of a study on a phenomenon detected by our inspectors from the Division of Magical Anomalies."

He paused, opening the file before him. Simultaneously, I opened mine. On the first page was a map indicating a remote area of the kingdom, at the northern border.

"The map," continued the Magister, "indicates a rural and sparsely inhabited region, composed of some isolated villages. Our magical detectors have picked up significant turbulence in this area, strong enough to require the intervention of field inspectors."

As he spoke, he raised his right hand and, with a precise gesture, the runes carved into the table began to glow. The three-dimensional map that appeared showed not only the region's topography but also overlapping layers of magical disturbances.

"The investigation results are more concerning than initially estimated," he said, his voice firm but charged with tension. "Seven months ago, our detectors recorded something never seen before. The inspectors discovered that the cause of the turbulence was a single individual, a stranger who eliminated an entire band of bandits that infested the region. The head of a local village reported that this mage appeared after saving a kidnapped girl."

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"The analysis of the spell reveals unprecedented complexity," continued the Magister. "It’s not only high-level elemental magic but involves space-time manipulations of vast scope. The bandits’ fortress wasn’t simply destroyed—it was erased from existence itself, as if it had never stood upon this land."

Lady Mariah leaned forward, studying the diagrams with attentive eyes. "The recorded energy levels exceed any known scale," she observed, her voice professional but with a slight tremor. "The readings show a complete destabilization of reality's fabric."

The Magister nodded. "The affected area extends for kilometers. Where the fortress once stood, there is now only a void in reality's fabric. Our inspectors have detected temporal anomalies throughout the area: points where time flows irregularly or stops completely. The ground itself has been torn, crossed by fractures that seem to violate natural laws."

He extracted another document from the file. "The spells used have been classified not only as high-grade but show characteristics never documented before. The combination of elemental and space-time magic at these levels should be theoretically impossible."

With a look that crossed the hall, he added: "The individual identified himself as an Archmage of the House of Vedragun."

The silence that followed was broken almost immediately by several agitated whispers. Lady Mariah dropped her tome, her hands trembling. Vincent, the director of the History Department, stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.

"Impossible," whispered Lady Mariah, her voice a thin thread. She turned to Vincent. "Hasn't the House been extinct for centuries?"

Lord Verrik rose slowly, his black cloak waving in the tense air. "Grand Magister," he said, his voice icy as always, "before we let ourselves be carried away by names and legends, let us focus on the facts. The level of power recorded is undeniable and concerning, regardless of who generated it."

"I agree," intervened Lady Helena of the Detection Division, an elderly woman with silver hair. "Our instruments don't lie. Whether he's a Vedragun or not, we're dealing with someone capable of manipulating the very fabric of reality."

Erik, head of the Combat Magic Department, maintained his skepticism. "A name doesn't make a mage. Anyone can proclaim themselves a descendant of an extinct house."

"You don't understand, Erik," Vincent shook his head, his face pale. "The Vedragun weren't a simple house of mages."

"And what were they, exactly?" asked Lord Darius of the Defense Division, his voice low and reasoned. "Why does every time this house is mentioned, some of us tremble while others roll their eyes? What do we truly know about the Vedragun, beyond the legends?"

Vincent hesitated, unusual for the typically talkative historian. "The truth is... we know very little. The documents are fragmentary, many were lost during the Dark Wars. What's certain is that they were present at the kingdom's foundation, but their exact role..." His voice faded.

"The statue," Lady Mariah said suddenly. "The hooded figure next to the refounding king..."

"A statue is not historical proof," interrupted Lord Verrik. "And legends tend to grow with time."

"But this power..." Lady Helena leaned over the table, studying the diagrams. "Don't you understand? We're discussing names and stories when we have something incredible before our eyes. The combination of magics at these levels... it's theoretically impossible."

"Exactly," agreed Lord Darius. "Whether he's a Vedragun or not is secondary. We have someone out there capable of erasing a fortress from existence. Not just destroying it - erasing it. As if it had never existed."

The Grand Magister raised a hand, calling for attention. "Lord Darius raises an important point. Focusing on the name might distract us from the real issue." He paused, looking at each council member. "We have detected a power that defies our understanding of magic. An individual who, regardless of their identity, possesses capabilities that go beyond anything documented in recent centuries."

"And he used this power to eliminate a band of bandits," observed Lady Mariah. "We cannot ignore this detail. It's not an act of aggression against the kingdom."

"But it demonstrates a total disregard for established magical laws," retorted Lord Verrik. "Using power of such magnitude for such a mundane task... it's like using an explosion to light a candle."

The silence that followed was heavy with implications.

The Grand Magister rose slowly. "Whatever the truth about the Vedragun, we must face the present reality. We have an individual of extraordinary power who has chosen to reveal their existence. The question now is: how will the kingdom respond?"

"First, we must understand their intentions," said Lady Helena. "They eliminated bandits, saved a girl. These are not hostile actions."

"But the manner..." Lord Verrik shook his head. "The manner is an implicit threat. 'Look what I can do with minimal effort.'"

The discussion continued, dividing between those who saw a threat and those who saw a possible opportunity, between those who believed the Vedragun's declaration and those who considered it a cover. But on one thing they all agreed: someone with unprecedented power had revealed themselves.