Aelric woke early, his heart pounding in his chest before his mind had fully grasped the day ahead. The council meeting loomed over him like a storm cloud, and the events of the previous night lingered in his thoughts—the masked figure, the warnings, the demonstration of power that had nearly exposed him.

He sat up slowly, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. His body was rested, but his mind was restless, buzzing with tension. The council meeting was his last chance to clear his name, to prove his innocence—or at least, to keep the town from turning against him. He needed to be calm, composed, and above all, in control of his magic.

With a deep breath, Aelric began cycling his mana, focusing on the warmth in his chest and moving it through his body. The familiar flow of magic helped steady his nerves, though the weight of the ring on his finger reminded him that he couldn’t afford any mistakes today. The ring concealed the unconscious signs of magic, but he still had to be careful—any slip could be disastrous.

He dressed carefully, pulling on his cloak and ensuring the ring was securely in place. The streets of Delsworth were quiet as he stepped outside, though he could feel the unease in the air. Whispers of witchcraft had spread through the town, and as Aelric made his way toward the council hall, he caught the wary glances of townsfolk, their conversations quieting as he passed.

The weight of their suspicion bore down on him, but he kept his head high, determined not to let them see his fear. His mind raced with possible defenses, ways to explain his behavior, his reclusiveness. He had to convince them—convince himself—that he was innocent.

By the time Aelric reached the council hall, a small crowd had gathered outside. The tension was palpable, and Aelric could feel their eyes on him, the whispers of doubt and fear following his every step. He swallowed hard and stepped inside.

The hall was dimly lit, the air heavy with anticipation. The town’s council members sat at the front, their faces stern, while guards stood at the edges of the room, keeping a close watch. Calder was already there, speaking with the guards in hushed tones, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Aelric.

Aelric took his seat, his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt stifling, and the air buzzed with the tension of what was to come.

After a few moments, the head councilman, an older man with a stern face and deep-set eyes, banged his gavel to call the room to order. “Let the proceedings begin.”

Calder wasted no time. He stepped forward, his voice strong and full of conviction as he addressed the council. “I stand before you today with grave concerns about Aelric. This man,” he said, pointing toward Aelric, “has been acting strangely for some time now, and recent events have only confirmed my suspicions.”

Aelric felt a chill run down his spine as Calder continued, his voice growing louder with each accusation.

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“He keeps to himself, avoids the townsfolk, and yet somehow, he manages to cause trouble wherever he goes. Just days ago, he was involved in a fight at the tavern—drunk, violent, and beaten bloody by the time the guards got there.”

Calder’s eyes flashed with intensity as he turned to the council. “And yet look at him now. He doesn’t even look bruised. The man was a mess when we dragged him out of that tavern, but today, not a mark on him. How does that happen?”

Murmurs rippled through the room, and Aelric’s heart raced. He could feel the weight of the townsfolk’s stares, the suspicion growing with every word Calder spoke.

“I’ve heard stories,” Calder continued, his voice low but dangerous. “Stories of witches—people like him—being more resilient, harder to kill. There are tales of witches being burned for days before they finally succumbed to the flames. I’m not saying Aelric’s a witch… but I’ve seen enough to know that something isn’t right.”

Aelric clenched his fists, his mind spinning. He could feel the stirrings of magic in his chest, threatening to break free, but he fought to keep it under control. Calder’s accusations were weaving a web of fear, and the more he spoke, the harder it was for Aelric to find a way out.

The head councilman turned to Aelric, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. “Aelric, you’ve heard the accusations. What do you have to say in your defense?”

Aelric stood, his legs feeling shaky beneath him. The weight of the room’s attention bore down on him, and for a moment, he struggled to find his voice. He glanced at Calder, who stood with his arms crossed, a smug look on his face.

“I… I’m not a witch,” Aelric began, his voice steadier than he expected. “I keep to myself because… because I’ve always been that way. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like being in the middle of things. But that doesn’t make me a witch.”

He paused, trying to gauge the room’s reaction. The council members watched him closely, their expressions unreadable.

“As for the fight,” Aelric continued, his heart pounding, “it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have been there, and I regret what happened. But I’m no more capable of magic than anyone else in this town. My injuries healed because… because I’m tough. I’ve had my share of scrapes, and I’ve always healed quickly.”

Calder scoffed, shaking his head. “Quickly? You were barely able to stand when we found you. And now, you don’t have so much as a bruise to show for it.”

Aelric’s chest tightened, but he held his ground. “I’m not a witch,” he repeated firmly. “I’ve never used magic, and I have no connection to it.”

The room was silent for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The council members exchanged glances, their faces lined with doubt.

Aelric could feel his magic stirring beneath the surface, a faint hum that he struggled to suppress. He had to stay calm, had to keep it under control. If he let his magic slip now, everything would be lost.

The head councilman leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “We will deliberate. Aelric, you may take your seat.”

Aelric sat down, his hands trembling slightly. The room buzzed with whispered conversations, but he couldn’t hear the words. All he could focus on was the faint pulse of magic inside him, the reminder of how close he was to losing everything.

Calder remained standing, his gaze locked on Aelric, a cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The guards moved closer, their eyes fixed on him as if they expected him to break at any moment.

The council began to deliberate, their voices low and serious. Aelric’s heart raced, each second feeling like an eternity.

Just as the tension reached its breaking point, the door to the council hall creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, their face hidden in the shadows.