Big John and Queen Nandi exchanged a quick glance, giving a slight nod before John cleared his throat, calling the chamber to silence and drawing the council's attention to himself.
"The Queen and I believe we shouldn't hide this information from Sheut or Adah."
The statement sparked an uproar.
One councilman who had stayed quiet throughout the meeting finally spoke. "Didn't you just say that if he found out what happened to him and the wraith-like woman, he could possibly turn on the kingdom?"
Big John let out a heavy sigh before responding. "Enlighten me, counselor. What do you think would happen if Sheut gained standing in the kingdom and then discovered that we purposely withheld this information from him?" He shook his head. "Matter of fact, I'll answer it for you. The problem of one unknown entity becomes the risk of a possible civil war if Adah sides with him. All because of our manipulation."
The heavy silence that followed Big John's warning pressed down on the council chamber, thick enough to smother even the faint, rhythmic hum of the ambient mana crystals. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of robes as several council members shifted uncomfortably in their high-backed chairs.
Albert broke the tension, his voice returning with a sharp, defensive edge as he leaned forward over the polished wood table. "A civil war, John? You speak as though Sister Adah is a naive girl, easily swayed by sweet words from a shadowless vagrant. She is first among her peers in defense and healing magic. One of our kingdom's absolute anchors. You truly believe she would turn her back on the very realm she swore to protect, simply because we chose discretion over absolute transparency?"
"Discretion is just a coward's word for manipulation, Albert," Elder Bernard interjected, his usual jovial, mischief-making demeanor completely gone. He set his wine goblet down with a heavy clack that echoed off the vaulted stone ceiling. "John is right. If Sheut is as deeply connected to the primordial chaos as we suspect, he will sense the lie eventually. And Adah's bond with him isn't just a casual contract; their souls are literally tethered through the Third Occurrence. If he feels cornered and betrayed by this council, his anger will ripple straight through her. We won't just be facing an angry demon. We'll be facing our own top Elite, broken-hearted and vindicated in her rage."
Queen Nandi, who had remained perfectly still at the head of the table, slowly raised her hand. The faint corona of light curling around her royal garments flared slightly, instantly commanding the room's absolute obedience.
"Enough," Nandi said, her authoritative murmur cutting through the mounting squabble. Her eyes, dark and heavy with the weight of her crown, locked onto Big John. "John's intuition has kept this kingdom standing through countless silent crises, and I agree with his judgment. If we build our relationship with Sheut Khensu on a foundation of omission, we doom ourselves before the necromantic tides even reach our shores."
She turned her gaze toward the windows, where the majestic spires of West Nile City gleamed against the sun-kissed horizon.
"But telling them must be handled with absolute precision," the Queen continued, her fingers lightly tracing the glowing sigils embedded in the council table. "We do not know the full nature of the wraith-like woman who was ripped from his soul during the failed summoning. If Sheut remembers her, or if the revelation triggers a violent stabilization of his missing memories, the localized dark mana burst could tear through the palace's inner wards. We must bring them here, together. Adah must be present to anchor his emotional axis if his power begins to warp reality."
Albert curled his lip into a bitter sneer, though he kept his tone formally respectful under the Queen's sharp gaze. "And if the truth breaks his psychological restraint, Your Majesty? If the realization that he is entirely erased from our prophecies leads him to see this world as nothing more than a hostile cage?"
Big John rose to his full height, his massive frame casting a dominant shadow across the chamber. He rested his heavy hands on the back of his chair, looking directly at the anxious councilors.
"Then we stand ready to back him up or contain him," John rumbled. "But we do it face-to-face, as leaders, not as puppeteers hiding in the dark. General Kar is already keeping a close watch on the perimeter. I'll fetch Adah and Sheut from the guest quarters myself."
Queen Nandi nodded slowly, her expression grim but unwavering. "Go, John. Let us see what kind of future this unwritten dark holds for us all."
Adah and Sheut left the weight of the meeting with the nobles behind and wandered into the heart of the marketplace.
West Nile City breathed around them in color and motion. Silk awnings stretched above the crowded streets, casting soft ribbons of shade over polished stone paths. Merchants called out from their stalls, offering baskets of sun-gold fruit, bundles of fragrant herbs, enchanted trinkets, and tiny glass charms that shimmered with captured mana. Children darted between adults with laughter bright enough to cut through the steady hum of the city, while distant musicians filled the air with the low rhythm of drums and the delicate cry of reed flutes.
Sheut walked beside Adah in silence, his gaze moving from one wonder to the next. He studied the world as though every sound, every scent, every passing face carried a meaning he could not quite grasp. The marketplace was alive, overflowing with warmth and familiarity, yet something in him remained distant from it all.
Adah noticed.
She had felt it since they began walking. An ache beneath his calm expression, faint but persistent. It reached her through the strange bond between them, not as a clear thought, but as a hollow pull. Longing. Loss. A grief with no name.
After they turned down a quieter, scenic route lined with flowering trees and shallow streams of glowing blue mana, Adah gently reached for his hand.
Sheut stopped.
His fingers stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed around hers. Adah looked up at him, her expression soft but searching.
"Sheut," she said quietly, "can I ask you something?"
He turned toward her. "You may."
For a moment, she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Ever since we left the palace, I've been feeling something from you. It isn't pain, exactly. It feels more like… longing." Her grip on his hand tightened slightly. "Like you're reaching for something you can't remember."
Sheut's eyes lowered, but he said nothing.
Adah continued, her voice barely above the murmur of the nearby stream. "And there's something else. I don't know how to explain it, but when I sense you through our bond, it feels like you aren't complete. Like a part of you is missing." Her gaze drifted briefly to the ground beside him, where no shadow followed his body. "Does it have anything to do with your missing shadow?"
The question settled between them.
For several seconds, Sheut remained silent. The sounds of the marketplace faded behind the rustling leaves and the soft rush of mana-lit water. His expression did not change, but Adah felt the shift within him, a tightening, a quiet collapse inward.
At last, Sheut lowered his head.
"I do not know," he admitted.
His voice was calm, but there was something heavy beneath it.
"I remember pieces. Broken sensations. Darkness. Cold. A force pulling at me from every direction." His brows drew together as he searched through the fragments buried inside him. "But I do not understand the events that brought me here. I do not understand what was taken from me."
He lifted his gaze slightly, though he still did not look directly at her.
"The absence I feel is not only my shadow," he said. "It is deeper than that. Heavier. As if something more than a piece of my soul is missing."
Adah's expression tightened with concern.
Sheut looked down at their joined hands, his thumb barely moving against her fingers.
"I feel as though I was once connected to something… or someone. But when I reach for it, there is only emptiness." His voice lowered. "And that emptiness feels familiar."
Adah said nothing at first. She only held his hand more firmly, anchoring him to the path, to the city, to the present.
"Sheut," she whispered, "you don't have to figure it out alone."
For the first time since they had entered the city, Sheut looked at her fully.
The marketplace continued to sing in the distance, bright and alive, but between them, the world had grown quiet.
"I know," he said.
Yet the longing inside him did not fade. It only stirred deeper, like a shadow beneath the surface of still water.