Morning came too bright after a night spent listening to whispers that might not have been dreams.
Alucent woke to find Tavin curled up on the floor of his cottage, wrapped in a blanket but still shivering. The boy had refused to go home after the storm, claiming the whispers followed him there. Something about the way he'd said it made Alucent reluctant to argue.
Now, as pale sunlight streamed through the windows, both of them looked like they'd been through a war.
The knock on his door came just after breakfast. Three sharp raps, purposeful and official.
Gryan stood on his threshold, but this wasn't the cheerful market vendor from before. His expression was serious, almost apologetic. He gestured toward the center of town, then made a series of quick hand movements that Alucent was beginning to recognize as the local sign language.
"Elder," Gryan said in his halting way. "You. Come."
"What elder?"
More gestures. Gryan pointed to himself, then to Alucent, then toward what Alucent now realized was the tallest building visible from his cottage. A tower that dominated the Marketplaza like a stone finger pointing at the sky.
"Sir Vorn," Gryan managed. "Rune Elder. Green Council." He paused, searching for words. "Storm. New faces. Must see."
Ah. So yesterday's display hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Do I have a choice?"
Gryan's expression was answer enough.
Twenty minutes later, Alucent was walking through the Marketplaza with Tavin pressed close to his side. The boy hadn't spoken since they'd left the cottage, but his wide green eyes kept darting around like he was seeing things that weren't there.
Or maybe things that were there but shouldn't be.
The Scribe's Tower was impossible to miss. Three stories of dark Ironvine wood and brass reinforcements, its base wider than Alucent's entire cottage. Near the top, a massive clockface made of frosted glass caught the morning light and threw it back in prismatic patterns.
As they approached, the Runeclock chimed the hour. The sound was deep and resonant, more felt than heard. It vibrated through the cobblestones and into Alucent's bones, making the ring on his finger pulse in response.
Inside, the tower was even more imposing. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with leather-bound journals and rolled scrolls. Intricate diagrams covered every available surface, runic patterns that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at them.
Gryan led them up a winding staircase to the second floor, where heavy wooden doors bore brass plaques inscribed with symbols Alucent couldn't read. At the end of the hall, Gryan knocked on the largest door.
"Enter," came a voice from within. Deep, measured, carrying the kind of authority that came from decades of being obeyed without question.
The office beyond was a study in controlled power. Bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, filled with volumes that looked older than the building itself. A large desk dominated the center of the room, its walnut surface covered in runic etchings that pulsed with faint light.
Behind the desk sat a man who could only be Sir Vorn.
He was tall, probably six feet even when standing, with silver hair visible beneath a formal top hat. His suit was impeccably tailored Ironvine fabric, dark and expensive. A monocle covered his right eye, and he held a cane that hummed with barely contained energy.
But it was his gaze that made Alucent's skin crawl. Sharp, penetrating, the look of someone who saw everything and forgot nothing.
"Ah," Sir Vorn said, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent Alucent couldn't place. "Our mysterious newcomer."
His eyes moved from Alucent to Tavin, lingering on the boy for a moment longer than was comfortable. Then they dropped to Alucent's left hand, where the Weave Anchor Ring sat like a piece of concentrated darkness.
The moment Vorn's gaze touched the ring, it began to hum. Not loudly, but with a frequency that seemed to bypass Alucent's ears and resonate directly in his chest. From the slight tightening around Vorn's eyes, the older man heard it too.
"Please, sit," Vorn said, gesturing to chairs arranged in front of his desk. "Gryan, thank you for the escort. You may go."
Gryan nodded and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow sounded final.
Alucent sat, pulling Tavin into the chair beside him. The boy was trembling again, but quietly. Trying not to draw attention.
"So," Vorn began, steepling his fingers. "Alucent Luci. An interesting name for an interesting time."
"Is it?"
"Indeed. You arrive in Eryndral just as our stability begins to... fluctuate. You're present during a significant Runestorm. You form immediate bonds with our more sensitive residents." His gaze flicked to Tavin. "One begins to wonder about patterns."
The words were polite, conversational even. But underneath them was steel.
"Sometimes patterns are just coincidence," Alucent said carefully.
"Sometimes. But rarely." Vorn leaned back in his chair. "Tell me, young man, what do you know of the Rune Covenant?"
Alucent's borrowed memories stirred, providing fragments. Laws. Traditions. Rules that governed how Runeforce could be used and by whom.
"The foundational principles of Senele," he said. "Order. Community. Respect for the forces that shape our world."
"A textbook answer. But do you understand why those principles exist?"
"To prevent chaos?"
"To prevent annihilation." Vorn's voice hardened slightly. "Runeforce is not a toy, Mr. Luci. It is the fundamental energy that holds reality together. Misuse it, abuse it, let it run wild, and everything we know ceases to exist."
The ring hummed louder, and Alucent had to resist the urge to cover it with his other hand.
"I'm not planning to misuse anything," he said.
"Plans are admirable. But power has a way of making its own plans." Vorn stood and walked to one of the windows, gazing out at the Marketplaza below. "Are you familiar with the Shadowcage Taboos?"
"The protocols for dealing with Possession?"
"Among other things. The Taboos exist because we learned, through bitter experience, that some forces cannot be reasoned with. Cannot be reformed. Cannot be anything but contained or destroyed."
There was something in his tone that made Alucent's throat tighten. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm educating you." Vorn turned back to face him. "This community has survived for generations by understanding its place in the larger pattern. We follow the old ways because the old ways work. We respect authority because authority keeps us alive. We fear the right things because fear keeps us cautious."
He returned to his desk, but didn't sit. Instead, he placed both hands on its surface and leaned forward.
"You, Mr. Luci, are an unknown quantity. That makes you dangerous by definition."
"I just want to live quietly. Earn a living. Not cause trouble for anyone."
"Admirable goals. But intentions and outcomes are often strangers to each other." Vorn's gaze moved to Tavin, who shrank further into his chair. "The boy is sensitive. More sensitive than most. Children like him often serve as... canaries in the mine, so to speak. They feel changes in the weave before anyone else."
"He's just scared. The storm affected him badly."
"Did it? Or did he affect it?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. Alucent felt sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool temperature of the office.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you don't." Vorn's smile was thin and cold. "But you will learn, Mr. Luci. We all learn, eventually. The weave teaches us, whether we want the education or not."
He walked around the desk to stand directly in front of Alucent. This close, the older man's presence was overwhelming. Power radiated from him like heat from a forge.
"A word of advice," Vorn said quietly. "Eryndral is a peaceful place. We intend to keep it that way. Those who threaten that peace, through action or inaction, through malice or ignorance, find themselves subject to the full weight of our traditions."
"I understand."
"Do you? Because understanding and compliance are different things entirely."
The ring was humming constantly now, a low thrumming that seemed to resonate with Vorn's presence. The older man's eyes kept returning to it, studying it with the intensity of someone trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle.
"There are unseen corruptions spreading through our world," Vorn continued. "Ancient principles are being tested. The very fabric of reality shows signs of... strain. In times like these, we must be especially vigilant about who we trust, who we welcome, who we allow to remain among us."
He reached out and touched Tavin's shoulder. The boy flinched but didn't pull away.
"Children see clearly, Mr. Luci. They haven't learned to lie to themselves about what they perceive. When a child reacts with terror to something others consider normal, wise men pay attention."
Alucent's hands clenched into fists. "He's under my protection."
"Is he? How fascinating." Vorn straightened up. "Protection implies authority. Authority implies power. Power implies responsibility. Are you prepared for that level of responsibility, Mr. Luci?"
"If I have to be."
"We shall see."
Vorn returned to his chair, but his posture suggested the interview was far from over. When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of absolute certainty.
"You will report to me weekly. Any unusual occurrences, any changes in your circumstances, any developments with the boy. You will conduct yourself in accordance with the Rune Covenant and submit to examination by qualified authorities when requested."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you will leave Eryndral. Today. And you will not return."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with implications. Outside, the Runeclock chimed the half hour, its deep tones vibrating through the building's bones.
Finally, Alucent nodded. "Weekly reports. I can do that."
"Excellent." Vorn smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I do so enjoy reasonable people."
He stood, indicating the meeting was over. But as Alucent rose to leave, pulling Tavin with him, Vorn spoke one last time.
"Young Weaver," he said, his eyes fixed on the Weave Anchor Ring. "Your aura hums with the old decay. Tell me, how does one survive a thread that unravels from within?"
The words hit Alucent like a physical blow. The ring flared with sudden heat, painful enough to make him gasp. Tavin whimpered and pressed closer to his side.
Vorn waited, patient and implacable, for an answer that wouldn't come.
Because Alucent was beginning to suspect that was exactly the question he was going to have to answer.
Whether he wanted to or not.