The Council chamber was quiet—too quiet. After the tremors that had shaken the city the previous night, Aelric had expected shouting, panic, accusations. Instead, when he entered the hall with Elara by his side, he was met with an almost ceremonial silence. Every member of the Council sat rigid, eyes following him like hawks studying prey.
"Step forward, Aelric," High Seer Valerius said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made the hairs on Aelric's neck rise.
Aelric glanced at Elara, who gave him the smallest nod. Her hand brushed his for the briefest moment—an anchor in a sea of uncertainty. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the circle of elevated seats.
"You were seen in the ruins," another Councilor said, his voice deep and gravelly. "And the ruins were glowing with forbidden light. What did you awaken there?"
The words struck like a blade. So the Council already knew. Or at least, they suspected. Aelric felt the chains of their scrutiny tightening around him.
"I didn't awaken anything," Aelric said carefully. "The ruins… they were already alive. I only survived."
Laughter, harsh and short, rang out from one corner. Councilor Dareth, the one most known for his distrust of outsiders, leaned forward. "Survived? Or bonded? Don't play with us, boy. The mark on your arm glows like an echo of the Old World."
The room stirred. Whispers rose, a tide of suspicion swelling higher and higher.
Elara stepped forward, her eyes flashing with defiance. "You accuse without proof. He risked his life to uncover what threatens us all. Would you rather blind yourselves to the truth and wait until the hollows consume the city entirely?"
Her words silenced the chamber for a moment. But Valerius lifted a hand, and the silence was heavy again. "We are not blind, child. But neither are we fools. Power of this nature has only ever led to ruin."
Aelric clenched his fists. He could feel the faint pulse of the timer mark beneath his skin, as if it was listening to every word spoken about it. Part of him wanted to shout, to confess everything—the whispers of Seraphiel, the shifting nights, the corrupted system's voice that still lurked at the edges of his thoughts. But something held him back.
If he revealed too much, they might lock him away. Or worse.
Instead, he asked, "What would you have me do?"
The Council members exchanged glances. Valerius spoke slowly, deliberately. "You will remain under observation. For your safety—and ours. Until we understand the nature of this bond, you will not leave the Inner District without permission."
Aelric's jaw tightened. That wasn't protection. That was a cage.
Elara bristled. "You can't just—"
"Elara," Aelric whispered, cutting her off. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned. "It's fine."
But it wasn't.
---
That night, the city felt different. The lamps burned brighter, as though someone had ordered them reinforced, and patrols doubled in the streets. Fear had spread faster than any hollow could move.
Aelric sat in the small chamber they'd been given. It was clean, well-lit, but the guards stationed outside the door made it clear: this was a prison with velvet walls.
He turned the timer mark over in his palm, watching its faint glow. For a moment, it flickered—not white, not red, but a strange pale gold. A voice brushed the edge of his thoughts.
You are chained. Just as I was.
His heart skipped. "Seraphiel?"
No answer. Only silence.
He rubbed his temple, frustration boiling inside him. Was he losing his mind? Or was Seraphiel deliberately withholding answers?
Elara entered quietly, closing the door behind her. She looked exhausted, her hair falling loose, shadows under her eyes. Yet her voice was steady.
"They don't trust you," she said simply. "Not anymore. Maybe not ever."
Aelric didn't respond. He didn't need to.
She sat beside him on the bed, close enough that their shoulders touched. For a long moment, they sat in silence.
Finally, Elara spoke again. "We can't stay here, Aelric. If the Council sees you as a weapon—or worse, a threat—they'll never let you walk free again. We need to decide… do we stay, or do we run?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
Stay, and they risked becoming pawns in the Council's schemes. Run, and they branded themselves traitors, hunted both by hollows and their own people.
Before Aelric could answer, a soft knock came at the door. Both froze.
The knock came again, this time in a pattern—three slow, two fast.
Elara's eyes widened. "That's—"
The door creaked open. A figure slipped inside, cloaked and hooded. The guards outside hadn't moved. Whoever this was, they had bypassed them completely.
The hood dropped.
It was Kaelen.
The young scribe, quiet and unassuming, the one who'd always carried scrolls for Valerius. His face was pale, eyes darting nervously.
"You don't have much time," he whispered. "The Council plans to move you to the sanctum tomorrow. Once you're there, you'll never leave again."
Elara stood, tense. "Why are you telling us this?"
Kaelen swallowed. His hands trembled as he pulled a small object from his robe—a shard of crystal, pulsing faintly with light.
"Because I know what you saw in the ruins. I know about Seraphiel. And if you stay here, they'll silence you. Just like they silenced the others."
Aelric's blood ran cold. "Others?"
Kaelen nodded, his voice breaking into a whisper. "You're not the first, Aelric. There were others who bore the timer's light before you. The Council… they erased them. Every trace."
The room seemed to tilt. Elara's hand gripped his arm tightly.
Kaelen pressed the crystal shard into Aelric's palm. "This will show you. Memories. The truth. But you need to leave tonight."
Before they could question further, Kaelen pulled his hood up and slipped back out into the hall, vanishing like a shadow. The guards outside remained motionless, as if nothing had happened.
Aelric stared at the crystal in his hand, its faint glow syncing with the pulse of his timer. The weight of choice pressed down on him like never before.
Stay and lose himself in the Council's chains.
Or run into a world where truth and danger waited in equal measure.
Elara's voice was quiet but resolute. "Whatever we do… we do it together."
Aelric nodded slowly, his grip tightening on the crystal.
For the first time, he felt the chains around him—but he also felt the key burning in his hand.