It's time," she said.
Marduk rose. His presence made the room itself feel smaller.
And then we descended to the dedication ceremony.
We walked to a mezzanine that opened over the grand hall, giving us a full view of the crowd gathered below. Marduk lifted a hand in a discreet gesture, indicating we should remain farther back—where we could see everything, but remain unseen.
My mother stood at my side, with Emanuelle and Anthony close. Iolanda held her place to her father's right, a loyal shadow.
Elder Marduk stepped to the center of the mezzanine. His black cloak unfurled like wings, the scarlet lining gleaming beneath the floating mage-lights. When he began to speak, his voice filled every corner, deep and resonant, a timbre that sounded almost like a spell.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Mages, nobles, and merchants…" —his cadence rolled like a contained thunder— "Today I have the honor of welcoming you to the founding of a new chapter."
The sound carried, and for a moment the entire hall fell still. Only the crackle of torches and the halted clink of glasses dared answer his voice.
"As one of the Elders of the Dark Throne, it is my duty to protect the Kingdom of Elveron, as our forebears did before us." He lifted his hand slightly, as if balancing invisible weight in the air. "At my side stands the count and my friend, Albert Avenue, lord of these lands."
Applause broke at once, respectful yet threaded with murmurs. Albert bowed in greeting, a refined nod that declared power without having to say it.
Even as the region's count, all knew: to rule such breadth requires vassals. Barons and knights are the reach of his will, and Brumaria is among them.
Marduk spoke again, and his presence smothered the whispers.
"As you know, the Dark Throne's fortress stands in Cainan, in the south of the realm. We rarely raise chapters in the north. To found one in Brumaria is therefore an honor to us all."
A hush of respect lay over the audience. I recalled what Iolanda had told me: Brumaria lies near Elveron's border with Alafia. This wasn't merely expansion—it was political signage, a line burned into the map.
Marduk drew a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was iron striking stone.
"However… it would be a lie to say we chose this site for that reason alone." He paused. The hall seemed to hold its breath. "As some of you already know, I, Demétrio Marduk—Elder of the Dark Throne and second power of this order—have accepted a boy as my disciple."
Disciple rang between the columns as if it weighed more than any oath.
Murmurs swelled at once. Surprise. Doubt. Envy. Nobles and mages traded glances, trying to guess who could have earned such favor.
Marduk turned slowly toward me. His red eyes met mine like twin blades.
"Elian," he called, clear as a bell.
My heart hammered, but I stepped forward when he extended his hand. My mother, Emanuelle, and Anthony came with me, stopping on his left in a neat line. Iolanda remained at his right, a silent sentinel.
There we stood, bared to the gaze of the entire hall.
When Marduk reached toward me, there was no room for refusal. I advanced a pace, feeling the hundred rising stares like knives pricking my skin. My mother, steady despite the tension, walked at my side. Anthony, silent. Emanuelle, her hand locked in mine, completed our little formation.
As we halted to Marduk's left, a shiver rippled through the hall—not insects, but the collective rustle of hundreds unsure whether to applaud, doubt, or bristle.
"Is that him?" someone whispered below. "The Elder's disciple?"
"A boy?" another muttered, contempt barely masked. "And a peasant at that."
"Look… golden eyes. Perhaps that's why," a third murmured, as if my eyes explained the inexplicable.
I heard them. Every word, every judgment. They tried to keep their voices low, but their needles went in all the same. Some looks were curious, others scornful. A few were lustful, trained on my mother and Emanuelle as if we were wares on a market table.
And then there was envy—raw and bitter—in men and women who had given decades to magic and would never be named a direct disciple to an Elder.
"A mistake," someone said, unafraid to be heard. "This is a mistake."
"No…" another answered in a conspirator's hush. "If Marduk chose him, there is something there—something we do not see."
Their words rang in my ears, but none outweighed Marduk's gaze. He didn't need to raise his voice; his mere presence silenced those who dared doubt. The hall hung between disbelief and fear, and that mix made the air heavy, almost stifling.
Count Albert Avenue stood at Marduk's side, saying nothing, his eyes—cold, evaluative—running over me and my family like pieces on a war-board. No sneer there, only calculation.
Mom, seated on a sofa minutes before, now lifted her chin. Her eyes were steady, though her hands trembled. Anthony held himself rigid, tension visible in his shoulders. Emanuelle, still clutching my hand, wore that innocent brightness—believing, perhaps, that standing beside an Elder was simply a beautiful moment, not the first weight of a burden too large.
Marduk raised his arm, and absolute silence fell. Not a whisper dared rise.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice cut the air like polished steel, "before you stands my disciple: Elian."
The echo of my name ran the walls, and I understood: everyone here would remember this. Some as a promise begun. Others as a threat born.
★★★
I looked down and saw familiar faces scattered among the sea below. Elise, in ceremonial dress, watched me with that unflinching poise of hers, as if each detail were a line she'd inscribe forever. Beside her stood Lysander, a third-rank mage, and with him a silver-haired girl who drew the eye. Her pale gaze caught the mage-lights like fractured crystal, and her upright stance spoke of training. She was young—perhaps near Emanuelle's age, a little older than me—but the way she regarded me wasn't curiosity. It was analysis, as if I were a riddle to solve.
Yet among all those faces, one froze my blood and set it boiling.
Baron Hoffmann.
His eyes met mine, and everything I had been holding together unraveled inside. A cold energy, steel at midnight, began threading through my veins. The metallic scent of bloodthirst opened in my mind. I could see him dead, crushed beneath my hands, erased from the world. My hatred didn't burn like fire; it ate like frost, a hidden blade begging to be used.
My mother set a hand on my shoulder. She was trembling. I understood: not only her fear, but her plea—for me not to lose myself here, before everyone.
And I was not the only one who noticed.
Elder Marduk's gaze, crimson and unyielding, slid to me for a heartbeat. Something in his eyes said he felt my slip—and unexpectedly, his presence pressed against me like a weight, as if a wall rose inside my chest and muffled the fury before it spilled.
Then he turned back to the assembly. His voice rose, grave and charged with power.
"Beyond accepting him as my disciple… I made a promise."
Silence rolled out like a tide, drowning even the congregation's breathing.
Marduk paused, and when he spoke, it sounded like a sentence pronounced in the heart of the order itself:
"I promised protection to his entire family."
The air seemed to vibrate. Mages and nobles glanced at one another, the import of those words settling on every shoulder.
"From this day forward," Marduk continued, his voice taking on a ritual weight, "Elian and all his family are under the direct protection of the Dark Throne."
He raised his right hand; the rubies in his rings flashed under the enchanted flames.
"And let it be understood: whoever dares lay a hand on any one of them… becomes an enemy of the entire order."
The declaration struck like thunder.
Some nobles muttered in shock; others turned pale. The mages bowed their heads in respect. And below, Baron Hoffmann's face tightened into a mask—hatred and impotence barely leashed.
I saw his fists clench. I felt his anger. But I also saw the truth: he could not touch me. Not now.
Marduk had just made my life—and my family's—a public pact.
And whoever broke it would find the Dark Throne as their executioner.
★★★
POV Maria
When Marduk's words echoed through the hall, I realized my own hand had tightened around Elian's. I looked at him—and in that instant, I knew I would never forget the sight before me.
It wasn't just relief. It wasn't only the shadow of grief I had carried since Arthur's death. It was pride. A pride so deep it seemed to overflow from my chest, as though everyone around needed to see it.
My eyes welled, but they weren't tears of sorrow. They were warm, alive, burning like hope. For the first time in so long, I didn't feel broken. For the first time since the night I lost my husband, I felt there was still strength within me—and that strength was born simply from seeing my son proclaimed a disciple of an Elder, before nobles and mages alike.
I wanted to tell him that, for me, he didn't need to be anything more than who he already was. That it didn't matter if he was a disciple, a prodigy, or just the boy who still ran to me asking for my embrace. But when our eyes met, I understood I didn't need to say it. He knew. And my gaze spoke all the words: "You are not alone. You will never be alone again."
My heart still ached, yet when I turned slightly and saw Elise among the crowd, something else stirred in me. She, who always concealed her emotions behind that cold, steady posture, now looked at me differently. Behind her sternness, there was pride. Genuine pride. Perhaps more than that: recognition. Recognition that Elian was no longer just a boy—he was walking a path few would ever dare dream of.
I didn't need her words. That look was enough.
When Marduk raised his arm, closing his speech, his voice thundered with an authority that allowed no denial:
"Let this day be remembered. The founding of this chapter marks not only the expansion of the Dark Throne… but also the public oath that this family shall never go unprotected."
Applause crashed through the hall like rolling thunder, but to me, the sound faded into the background. All that mattered was Elian's small hand trembling faintly in mine, carrying so much weight and yet so much hope. All that mattered were his eyes, mine, and Elise's—three gazes bound together by the same certainty:
This was the beginning of something that would change our lives forever.
And I knew, deep within my soul: for our family, there was no turning back.