The circular chamber was bathed in amber light, the setting sun piercing through crystal windows and scattering across the polished marble floor. The rays caught on the golden veins that traced the walls, setting them aglow with a quiet, divine brilliance.
Ren's parents stepped inside, hearts unsteady. The room was silent but for the faint hum of magical wards layered into its architecture. At the center, behind a vast desk of dark stone, sat the President.
He rose slowly, not rushed, not casual, but with the poise of one who carried entire nations upon his shoulders. His suit was sharply cut, dark as the depths of midnight, a faint line of silver embroidery catching the light. His eyes were calm, assessing, and heavy with authority, that settled upon them.
"Welcome," he said. The word was simple, yet it resonated through the chamber with a weight that left no space for hesitation.
Ren's father bowed first, his wife following half a breath later. "Mr. President," he murmured, the formality dry against his tongue.
The President raised a hand, halting their gestures. "No need. You are not officials or soldiers. You are family. Parents who have been called to bear a burden far greater than any should." His tone softened faintly, almost imperceptibly. "Please. Sit."
Two chairs, crafted from polished wood infused with faintly glowing runes, shifted of their own accord to face the desk. The couple obeyed, lowering themselves carefully.
The President studied them for a long moment before speaking again. "Your journey here, was it smooth?"
Ren's father nodded. "The convoy… was swift. Secure."
The President's lips curved faintly, a shadow of approval. "Good. It should be. No family summoned here should be made to suffer discomfort. You are already carrying enough."
Silence lingered briefly. The chamber was vast, yet the President's presence made it feel smaller, closer, as though nothing outside its walls existed.
"How have you been?" the President asked suddenly.
The question startled them both. His wife blinked, fumbling for words. "We… we manage. The city is alive, work is steady, but…" She caught herself. The presence before her was not one to whom she could pour out domestic worries, yet the tone of his question demanded honesty. "...life has changed since… since Ren."
The President's gaze sharpened, though not unkindly. "As it was bound to." He leaned back slightly in his chair, hands folding upon the desk. "A child's awakening is always a turning point. For the family, for the community. But when the child is not ordinary, when the power they awaken with does not belong to common cycles… it shakes the foundation of more than just the household. Do you understand?"
Ren's father hesitated. He wanted to answer yes. He wanted to prove himself strong before this man who held power over nations. But in truth, he only half-understood. He had seen his son, seen the dark current in his veins, the power in his eyes. But he had not seen the world through the lens of nations, armies, and politics.
His silence was enough. The President did not press further. Instead, he exhaled softly, as though carrying the weight of explanation upon himself.
"You know, I assume, that your son is not simply awakened." His words were measured. "He is awakened to something the world fears. Something it has not seen in centuries."
His wife's hands tightened upon her knees. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
The President's voice deepened, steady, unwavering. "Ren is a dark-elemental magician."
The words rang out in the chamber, heavier than any oath.
His parents froze. The term was foreign in their mouths, yet instinctively they grasped its meaning. Darkness, feared, whispered, shunned.
The President's eyes studied them carefully, weighing every flicker of emotion across their faces. "The world is layered," he continued. "Our nations, our towers, our academies, all rest upon balances established long ago. Light, fire, water, wind, earth. These are elements that form the pillars of order. Even rare affinities ice, lightning, earth. They have their place. But darkness…" He paused. "Darkness devours balance. It unsettles order. It calls forth things long buried."
Ren's mother found her voice at last. "But… he's our son. He… he is not a threat to anyone—"
The President did not soften. "That is precisely why you are here. Because family will always see a son, not the storm he carries."
Her voice broke. "He is not a storm. He is…"
"...Ren," the President finished for her, his tone calm yet final. "Yes. He is Ren. And for you, he must always remain Ren. But for the world, he has become something else. Something it will not ignore."
Ren's father's throat burned. He wanted to argue, to demand space for his son to simply be. But the weight of the President's gaze silenced him.
The President leaned forward, elbows resting lightly upon the desk. "Let me speak plainly. Your son's awakening has already been recorded by more than this nation. His battle was seen. His power was felt. Other continents… other governments… already whisper his name. They do not whisper as parents. They whisper as predators and rivals."
The couple exchanged a glance, fear raw in their eyes.
"This world," the President continued, "is divided. Four continents, each bound by their own laws, each armed with their own magicians, their own guardians. Alliances shift like tides. Treaties hold, until they do not. But all agree on one thing." His eyes darkened. "No nation can allow a weapon it does not control to exist in another's hands."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Ren's mother spoke weakly, "So… you mean…"
The President did not flinch. "If he is not guided, if he is not trained, if he is not placed under protection… then he will be hunted. Not only by creatures drawn to his element. Not only by those who fear what he may become. But by governments who would rather see him erased than allow him to fall into enemy hands."
Her breath hitched. She clutched her husband's arm, trembling.
Ren's father sat rigid, his jaw locked. Every word felt like chains tightening around his chest.
The President's voice softened then, though the steel beneath it did not fade. "This is why I summoned you. I will not cloak my request in illusions of choice. For your son's sake and for the world's, you must entrust him to me. To this nation. I will see him trained. I will see him guided, taught control, and shown the path that will not consume him."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"You will see him again. He will not be taken as a prisoner, but as a student. As one chosen. But you must understand that your household can no longer contain what he has become."
The chamber fell silent.
Ren's parents sat frozen, their thoughts spiraling, their breaths shallow. Before them sat not merely a man but the voice of the world itself, asking, demanding. That they surrender their son for the sake of a fragile balance neither of them could truly comprehend.
And yet, beneath all the grandeur, the question was brutally simple.
Would they give him up?