The lanterns burned brighter than the stars that night. Their golden fire painted the palace courtyard in sheets of shimmering light, each flame tethered to the Nexus wards Gadmyne herself had woven. Hundreds of nobles gathered beneath them — silks and cloaks swirling, masks glittering, every gesture calculated.
Luminara wasn't just a festival. It was spectacle, politics, and theater — and tonight, Jamyd intended to own the stage.
The Noctarii entered in a slow procession, black and silver shadows slicing through the brightness. Zanre, sardonic as ever, ignored the stares. Niven greeted a handful of nervous witches with warmth. Lynch stalked like a predator dressed in finery. Fenrith glided with stillness that seemed carved from marble, while Xladys smirked as if the entire affair were a joke designed only for him. Illus lingered near Gadmyne, manipulating eyes flicking across the crowd, already measuring lies.
Then Nystrix.
The young hybrid looked almost regal despite herself — her hair pinned with starlight beads, her dress a blend of midnight and violet threads that moved like smoke. She wasn't supposed to outshine the witches, but she did. The crowd noticed. The Noctarii noticed. Even Jamyd noticed, though he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Ah," Zanre drawled, raising a glass, "our little half-blood star has found her light."
Nystrix froze under the comment, unsure if it was mockery or acknowledgment.
Niven quickly stepped in, her voice smooth. "And why shouldn't she? Tonight honors all blood bound to the Nexus."
Xladys laughed. "Spoken like a bard, not a guard. Let the girl breathe."
The exchange might have ended there — but Jamyd leaned forward just enough for his voice to carry to those nearby.
"Careful, my lords. Bright sparks tend to burn out… especially when their flames touch what they cannot control."
Nystrix stiffened. Gadmyne's hand twitched, as though she longed to hurl a curse. But the Archwitch held herself back, her jaw tight, her eyes scanning the wards.
Jamyd's words slithered across the floor like oil. Just enough for whispers to begin.
~~~~~~~
The festival rose toward its climax.
The Nexus lanterns flared, each flame tied to a different realm. Gadmyne stepped into the circle, her voice ringing out, ancient chants weaving light into patterns across the wards. Nystrix's chest swelled with awe, even under the suspicious eyes watching her.
For a moment, the magic was flawless.
Then — it broke.
A pulse of cold light screamed through the wards. The nearest lantern shattered, shards slicing through silk gowns and bare arms. Energy snapped like a whip, striking a visiting envoy from the Siren's court. The woman collapsed, her attendants screaming as her skin smoked from the backlash.
Panic tore the silence apart. Shouts, scrambling feet, nobles clutching their children.
And in the chaos — Knox's voice rose like a knife.
"This pattern—!" He pointed at the failing ward sigil, which still sparked with violent light. "That is the Nexus experiment signature! The very one Archwitch Gadmyne tested months ago!"
Dozens of heads snapped toward Gadmyne. Suspicion roared to life.
"No!" Gadmyne snarled, her voice thick with fury. "This is sabotage!"
But already Daphane stepped forward, pale and trembling in well-rehearsed theater.
"My lords… my ladies… look what I found near the altar!" She held aloft a shard, runes etched across its surface. "It reeks of hybrid essence. Nystrix's presence tainted the ritual!"
The crowd gasped, the sound like a wave crashing.
Nystrix's stomach dropped. "What?!" She took a step back, shaking her head. "I didn't— I wasn't even near—"
A servant screamed from the corner. "I saw her! Near the altar! Just before it failed!"
And then, cruelest of all, the wards themselves flickered — a shadowy image blooming across them for a breath. A silhouette. Her silhouette.
"Lies!" Gadmyne's voice cut through the uproar. Her power surged, crackling in the air. "This is a trick!"
Jamyd lifted his hand, calm as a saint. "Then let us treat it as such, Archwitch. No one here seeks harm to you… or the hybrid. But facts are facts. A ward collapsed. An envoy lies burned. Evidence points toward reckless tampering."
"She did nothing!" Gadmyne spat, stepping in front of Nystrix. "You dare weave plots under my watch, Jamyd?!"
Jamyd's mask never slipped. "Your anger does you no favors, Gadmyne. Until inquiry clears you, I demand seclusion for the hybrid and temporary removal of your command over the wards. For the safety of all realms gathered."
The nobles hesitated. Safety. Inquiry. Neutral words, so much easier to agree with than open condemnation.
And then Knox moved again, producing a parchment with shaking hands. "This note—found in your chambers." He held it up. "A plan to stress-test the wards during Luminara. Signed in your own hand."
Gadmyne's breath caught. She knew it was false, but the crowd didn't.
The whispers swelled into a storm.
"She endangered us all."
"The hybrid… the prophecy…"
"She must be bound before worse happens."
Illus finally stepped forward, tongue like venom.
"How convenient, Jamyd. A failure at the exact moment all realms gather. Evidence too perfectly found. One might almost think…" His gaze sharpened. "…that you planned this."
Jamyd smiled thinly. I'm sorry, Archwitch Illus, but My hands are clean. The evidence speaks louder than I ever could."
Nystrix couldn't breathe. Dozens of eyes bore into her, fear and hatred tangled together. She wanted to scream, to run, to vanish. But her feet rooted to the ground. Her heart hammered like it wanted to claw free.
"Stop this." Her voice cracked, too quiet against the uproar. "I didn't do anything."
Zanre's voice cut across the chamber, cold and amused. "Perhaps. But innocence has little meaning once a crowd decides otherwise."
"Enough."
The word silenced the room.
Luthien had arrived. His cloak billowed behind him as if it carried its own storm. His gaze swept across the crowd, lingering on Nystrix, then shifting to Jamyd.
"You dare stage this circus in my halls?"
Jamyd bowed with false humility. "Your Majesty, no staging. A failure occurred. Evidence points to reckless hands. I ask only for impartial justice."
Luthien's jaw tightened. "Justice? You poison it with your schemes. You wound an envoy, then drape the blame on my guest and the Archwitch?"
Jamyd's mask cracked for the first time, just slightly. "I would never—"
"Silence." Luthien's voice thundered. "If any hand touched the wards, I will find it. But hear me now, all of you: Nystrix is under my protection. Harm her, accuse her, and you accuse me."
The room shuddered. Nobles exchanged frantic glances. Knox paled. Daphane stepped back.
Jamyd's smile returned, brittle but unbroken.
"Then may the consequences fall as they must, Your Majesty. For both her… and you."
~~~~~~~~~
The festival was broken. The lanterns flickered like dying stars. The envoy was carried out half-conscious. Nobles whispered and fled, their silks dragging rumors behind them.
And Nystrix stood in the center of it all — her heart hollow, her innocence shredded in public.
She had thought danger wore fangs and claws. But now she knew better.
Danger wore crowns and smiles.
And Jamyd's smile promised she had only glimpsed the beginning.