Chapter 29 — The Trumpet That Calls
Elsewhere, in a wide field overgrown with wild grass beneath a clouded sky, Thadric stood alone. The wind blew softly, carrying the scent of earth and ash.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. One by one, five Hellseer Council members—stripped of their strength—emerged from the mist. Their faces pale, their bodies weakened, yet their gazes remained sharp.
Thadric gave a faint smile. "So you finally came."
Dorvas, usually stern, now spoke with a heavy voice. "We have no choice. You are the only one who can restore our power."
Kavdrin continued, "We rejected you before because you were deemed unworthy to be a Hellseer. But now… circumstances have changed."
Thadric nodded slowly. He knew this was not victory. It was negotiation. "You know, this spell belongs to my mother's family. No one can wield it but me. And I will not give it for free."
Miredan gazed at him in silence, then asked, "What is your condition?"
Thadric fell quiet for a moment. His hand brushed the object hanging at his side—a metal trumpet, old and weathered, yet carrying strange power. Once, it had been his mother's baton. An ordinary weapon, wielded by an ordinary woman—a police officer. A human. Murdered by Rolland.
Her spirit had refused to leave. It lingered in the baton, fused with it, slowly transforming it. Now it was a trumpet that could summon and tame ancient spirits. One of them: Gilancia, the great spirit-beast who once followed Maxcen.
Thadric's eyes lingered on the trumpet.
"Help me with one thing," he finally said. "Protect Enver. Do not interfere with him. Whatever happens."
Ysera narrowed her eyes. "Why do you care so much about him?"
Thadric held his breath. "Because he… is the one who can destroy Maxcen. The only one. And… because I cannot."
The council members exchanged glances.
But behind his words lay something unsaid.
Thadric lifted his gaze to the gray sky. His heart heavy. He had never spoken it aloud—his hidden desire, one he could not even admit to himself.
He had always wanted to be a Hellseer. Since childhood. To sit beside Enver. Not for power. But to be seen as enough.
But he was rejected.
And that truth haunted him still. That his father, Jassel, was merely a puppet of Maxcen. That his family had no choice but to kneel. But him? He remained human—human, carrying anger and envy that would never fade.
Miredan stepped forward. "If we agree… when will you begin?"
Thadric raised the trumpet. "Now."
He blew softly. No sound came. Yet the ground trembled. The air shifted. Five small spirits emerged from the trumpet's mouth, wrapping themselves around each Council member one by one.
They screamed. Their bodies lifted slightly off the ground. Their eyes blazed once more—though only partly.
"This is not full power," Thadric said. "But it is enough to face what is coming."
Dorvas gave a slow nod. "We will keep our promise. For now."
The wind stirred again. Clouds shifted, revealing a glimpse of sky.
Thadric looked down at the trumpet in his hand.
And for a moment, his mother's face appeared reflected upon its surface. Smiling… or warning—he could not tell.