The morning bell rang three times, its sound rolling like thunder across the sect grounds. Disciples paused mid-training, eyes widening—three strikes meant only one thing: a summons from the Elders' Hall.
And it was for him.
Arhaan walked through the sect gates under hundreds of stares. Some were fearful, some mocking, others curious. The whispers followed him like ghosts.
"He's finished."
"No disciple survives being summoned by the elders."
"Rootless strays don't belong in this sect."
Arhaan ignored them all. His chains coiled quietly beneath his skin, ready.
---
The Hall of Judgement
The Elders' Hall loomed vast and oppressive, its pillars carved with dragons that seemed to watch his every step. Inside, eight elders sat in a crescent, their robes heavy with authority.
Elder Rahn, stern and sharp-eyed, spoke first.
"Arhaan of the outer sect. You stand accused of murder, demonic practice, and concealment of forbidden arts. Do you deny it?"
Arhaan's gaze was steady.
"I killed in self-defense. The assassins were sent for me. If you doubt it, search their remains."
Another elder scoffed.
"Convenient. Yet no remains were found. Only your word, boy."
---
The Pressure
The air grew heavier as the elders' spiritual pressure bore down. The weaker disciples kneeling nearby trembled, but Arhaan held his ground, though his body screamed in pain.
Elder Rahn's voice cut through the silence.
"You wield chains not of this sect, power not of our teachings. Such gifts come at a price. Tell us… who is your master?"
Arhaan's chains rattled faintly, answering in defiance.
"I have no master."
A murmur swept the hall. The elders' eyes sharpened.
"Then you are a threat," Elder Rahn declared.
"And threats must be… broken."
---
A New Voice
Before the elders could act, a voice rang from the doorway—soft, but cutting like a blade.
"Then perhaps you should test whether the chains of heaven can truly be broken."
All heads turned.
Selene stood there, veil shimmering under the torchlight. Her presence silenced even the elders.