The silence lingered long after Percy's final words.
"Fear... has never been evidence."
They seemed to settle upon the Council like dust.
High Chancellor Magnus Blackwood regarded Percy for several moments before slowly folding his hands atop the silver table.
"Counsel Network."
Percy inclined his head.
"Your argument was... elegantly delivered."
A pause.
"So too was Counsel Velos'."
Seraphine dipped her head in acknowledgment.
The Chancellor's ancient eyes swept across the chamber.
"Both of you have spoken well."
His gaze settled first on Jordan.
Then on me.
"But neither of you has spoken of what truly matters."
The hall became impossibly still.
Magnus Blackwood rose.
Age had stooped his body but had done nothing to diminish his presence.
He descended the single step from the Council dais and began walking slowly across the black marble floor, his robes whispering behind him.
"You speak to us of love."
He looked towards Percy.
"You speak to us of consent."
His eyes shifted to Seraphine.
"You speak to us of enchantment."
Then...
He turned.
His weathered hand stretched towards the colossal painting that loomed behind the Council.
Jean.
Furla.
Fire.
Blood.
Death.
"I speak to you," he said quietly, "of history."
No one moved.
Not even the courtroom artists.
"When I was a child," the Chancellor continued, "my grandfather showed me the ruins of Ashmoor."
His voice remained calm. "There were no houses.No schools. No temples.Only blackened stone."
He swallowed "I asked him what had happened there."
The Chancellor looked at the painting.
"He said...Love happened."
A murmur swept through the gallery.
He continued walking.
"The Blood Wars lasted twelve years. Twelve years of villages burned before sunrise.Twelve years of children orphaned. Twelve years of werewolves hunting humans...and humans poisoning werewolves."
His voice never rose.
It didn't need to.
"The rivers ran red. The forests became graveyards.The moon itself seemed ashamed to rise."
No one interrupted him.
"The Tishian Treaty was not written during peace.It was written because peace had died."
He stopped directly beneath the painting.
"Laws," he said softly, "are not written for ordinary days. They are written for days when civilization stands upon the edge of extinction."
He turned slowly until he faced the entire chamber.
"Article Nine..."
His voice echoed through the hall.
"...is not about love."
A pause.
"It is about survival."
The spectators nodded almost unconsciously.
Many had heard these words since childhood.
"The White Colony did not forbid such unions because they were distasteful."
His eyes settled on me.
"We forbade them because history demanded it."
He looked toward Jordan.
"One forbidden union."
His hand lifted towards the painting again.
"One act of selfish affection.....brought nations to ruin."
His gaze swept the chamber.
"We remember Jean and Furla not because they were lovers..but because they were a warning."
A second councillor, a stern woman draped in emerald robes, leaned forward.
"The young often mistake restriction for cruelty."
Her eyes found me. "They inherit peace....and mock the sacrifices that purchased it."
Another councillor spoke.
A broad-shouldered werewolf with silver hair.
"They ask why the law is severe."
He looked towards the students seated in the gallery.
"They have forgotten what severity prevented."
The emerald-robed councillor nodded.
"They call the Treaty hateful."
Her voice sharpened.
"They call it outdated."
She looked directly at Percy.
"They call it prejudice."
She allowed the word to linger.
"It is none of those things.I t is civilization."
Chancellor Blackwood raised one hand.
Silence returned instantly.
"The defendants ask us to admire their love."
He looked at Jordan.
"Very well."
Then at me.
"I do not doubt its sincerity."
A ripple of surprise passed through the chamber.
"I do not doubt," he continued, "that each would willingly die for the other."
Jordan answered before anyone else could.
"I would."
My heart clenched.
The Chancellor regarded him sadly.
"That..."
He sighed.
"...is precisely the problem."
His gaze travelled across the hall.
"Love has always convinced ordinary people they are the exception. It whispers History will repeat itself for everyone except you."
His voice hardened for the first time.
"But history is indifferent. It buries dreamers.It buries lovers. It buries those foolish enough to believe themselves stronger than the lessons of the past."
The chamber fell into reverent silence.
Finally, Magnus Blackwood returned to his seat.
He looked first at Seraphine.
Then at Percy.
"The Council shall recess for thirty minutes."
His gavel struck once.
"When we reconvene..."
His eyes rested upon Percy Network.
"...Counsel for Miss Carter will present his final submission, followed by the Counsel for Mr Files."
The hall exploded into noise.
Students surged to their feet.
Reporters hurried towards the exits, shouting headlines before the ink had even dried.
Council officials gathered in urgent clusters.
The guards moved immediately.
Jordan's wrist was seized.
Mine a heartbeat later.
For the first time since the hearing had begun, we were pulled in opposite directions.
Jordan twisted against the guard just enough to find my eyes.
He smiled.
Small.
Crooked.
Infuriatingly calm.
I smiled back.
It hurt.
Then he disappeared through a side door.
Percy remained where he was.
Silent.
Watching the hall empty.
Only when the last spectator had gone did he slowly reach into the inside pocket of his coat.
His fingers found the folded pages Professor Viviette Tom had pressed into his hands.
He unfolded the bundle at last.
His eyes dropped to the first page.
The color drained from his face.
He did not turn the page immediately.
He simply stared.
As though the very first sentence had reached across hundreds of years...
...and placed a hand around his throat.