The gag, blindfold, and bounds of ice were removed the moment Sorn had entered a strange, circular room. The entire area was made of ice, giving Sorn an eerie, chilling feeling. His new wound was aching, and his recent defeat weighed his morale down like an anchor. As he was being carried, he couldn’t help but repeat inside his head the words he had heard from Crystal as well as that initial look Keilan had given him. He thought he had accepted death, but the moment he saw the five thrones before him, that sickening feeling of panic was back. He looked to his right, which only made his heart sink deeper. There was Crystal next to a guard now dressed in the Academy uniform he had come to recognize. Her cheeks were red and her eyes looked stressed, as though she’d been panicking for a while, which only made Sorn feel all the more guilty. Directly in front of him was Toren and another boy he didn’t recognize kneeling towards the thrones as the ice platform he had been sitting on was lowered.

In walked three more people, most easily characterized by their large stature. The biggest and oldest looking man took a seat on the last empty throne, while the other two made their place next to Crystal. The man in the middle throne cleared his throat as a bell rang in the background. Sorn noticed then that Keilan was sitting next to him with another man, his expression grim and unflinching, though he seemed to be glaring daggers at Sorn.

Great, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.

The man was on the shorter side, but his daunting presence more than made up for it. He had what seemed to be a military outfit with silver shoulder pads marked with what looked like a spear. He appeared to be on the older side, but had no facial hair. His hair was neatly formed into a middle part, and his face was collected as he stared down at Sorn as though he was an inferior bug. Sorn decided immediately that he didn’t like this person.

Councilman: “Greetings Council and any other individuals participating. Today marks the twenty-third meeting of the Ninth Council. I Varian, leader of this Council as well as the Spear Subclan will naturally be overseeing this conference. I have been told that Toren, the heir of the Dancing Blade Subclan has apprehended and brought an outsider during his investigation of the comet. Toren my boy, will you recount to us the events you have been told.”

As Toren was recapping his side of the story, Sorn was surprised by his honesty. None of it was exaggerated, and even perhaps underplayed his victory in their fight, making high note of Sorn’s strange surge of power and how it surprised him. Sorn couldn’t help but wonder what he hoped to accomplish with all this, until he uttered his next words.

Toren: “As I have already explained, Crystal and her brother who is to be sacrificed were harboring the outsider, who displays a power unlike our Clan has ever seen. I believe I have halted a plot devised by them and their brothers to help Keilan escape and see our island fall.”

Sorn watched as Keilan winced upon hearing his name and Varian holding out his hand to stop him from retorting. Upon hearing Torn’s story, he turned to Crystal and asked for her perspective on the situation. She was also mostly honest, explaining everything important besides their trip to the cave. She told them about how they found him in the crater and how Keilan wanted to turn him in but she didn’t let him. She made it clear the blame was on herself, and as she spoke, almost the whole room seemed to latch on every word. To them the story was not only interesting conceptually, but her voice seemed to invoke a sense of passion. The kind that commanded attention, the kind that brought followers. Sorn couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of pride regarding how she carried herself.

Crystal: “This was all my fault. So I beg of you dear Council members, please spare the innocent outsider, you can clearly tell with even a single conversation that he has little idea who or where he is.”

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The man rightmost of the thrones seemed unmoved by her plea. He looked hardly older than them, adorned in a chainmail outfit with straight hair that was arranged into a stylish bowl cut.

“Know your place girl. You do not have the authority to make requests of us. You were asked to explain your story, so you are to do only that.”

Crystal opened her mouth, but the man beside her nudged her discreetly, causing her to catch herself and nod in response, offering a courteous bow to the councilman. Sorn found this odd. Toren had just done the same, but none of the council members had told him off for that.

Crystal: “I deeply apologize sir, that was truly unbecoming of me.”

Varian: “Well, with that aside. You, boy. Sorn is it?”

Sorn perked his head up. He was not aware he would even be recognized directly in this meeting.

Sorn: “Um, yes, that’s correct.”

Varian: “Can you confirm the accuracy of all the stories told thus far? Is there anything you’d like to interject or elaborate upon?”

Sorn: “No. Everything is as stated.”

Varian nodded understandingly.

Varian: “Very well. My fellow Council members. We have always acted upon our dearest values, order. Order is what brings us prosperity. It has done so for centuries, and it is what we need to achieve our victory in the coming ‘promised day’ arriving in only ten years. Nothing that can break the status quo should be overlooked and must be treated with delicacy, otherwise it shall be our ruin. We have been greatly set back with the disappearance of the heirs to the Royal Family and a great loss in our ranks. This boy arrived at a time too convenient. Nothing we have faced in our time in the Council has broken the order we value so dearly more than this boy. I suggest his immediate execution so we can cease this chaos.”

The man who responded sat to the left of Varian, and he had seemed mostly bored the entire time, even dozing off in the middle. He had large pelts of fur on his back, and his bald head, burly figure, and large beard made him look like a menace. Sorn wouldn’t be surprised if he hit his own head with rocks in his free time. However, he had perked up the moment Varian talked about “order”.

Bjorn: “Bah, those are your values! Traditions are meant to be broken, you old fuckers have too many icicles up your asses!”

Varian strategically ignored him, but the woman on the right to Varian had something to add to this discussion. She was frankly beautiful. Her long ponytail matched with her symmetrical face flawlessly, and she had a look of elegance about her. Sorn noticed with a slight distaste however, that on her bare arms was a tattoo of a dancer with a needle, similar to the one Toren used, meaning she was his mother. She turned to the young man to her right first.

“Firstly Cedric, I do not condone you speaking so disrespectfully to my future daughter-in-law. I will excuse you this one time but remember if it happens again you will not be excused so easily.”

Cedric smirked at this and tapped his armrest with irritation, but didn’t retort so she went on.

“Secondly, I cannot believe I am uttering this but I side with Bjorn. I do not support this boy’s execution. I agree Varian, with your reasoning. However, this is a coincidence that could be as easily positive as negative. We believe in order because we believe in Seraph and the sky. So I inquire you, a boy falling from the sky at such a pivotal time? It is most definitely a sign for the upcoming war. And what else is coming in the next week my dear Council? It is the Prophecy that the only living member of the Pythia Subclan will make. The final prophecy before the war we will face. With these stated, my proposition will be this. The boy should be incarcerated until we receive the Prophecy, and use it to truly decide his fate.”

There was some murmuring in the background by the guards and some onlookers, who even Sorn himself had never noticed were behind him. He heard some comments such as “we have never received an outsider for a thousand years”, and he looked back towards the Council. For the first time since he woke up again, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of hope. Varian held up his hand, causing the room to quiet.

Varian: “Well then. Any other comments? No? Well then, we will now vote. All in favor of Freyja’s incarceration proposal, please raise your hand.”

Freyja and the final council member, who hadn’t spoken a word yet, were the only ones to raise their hand. Sorn looked at her for the first time. She was a bit shorter than Freyja, and seemed secluded in her own world as she fiddled nervously with a harp of ice in her unraised hand. Freyja glared at Bjorn, who had somehow acquired an ice bottle filled with alcohol and was going to town with it, but stopped when he caught her eye.

Bjorn: “What? I couldn’t care less as to what happens with the boy. He lost a fight to that lame twig prick. He’ll die with or without the support.”

Toren looked annoyed by that comment, but his mother didn’t seem to care. This would have amused Sorn if there weren’t greater stakes in play. Varian gave a confident grin.

Varian: “It looks as though there’s a tie. And as rules state, in an event such as this, the Emperor makes the final decision. And so-”

A giant spear of ice formed above his head and pointed itself towards Sorn.

“You die.”