Nystrix's footsteps echoed against the long, stone corridor, the sound too loud, too sharp, like it was betraying how nervous she was inside. The palace walls seemed alive, breathing magic through their veins. Dark sigils pulsed faintly, old spells humming like bees under the surface. Every step deeper felt like she was walking into a place that didn't want her there, or at least wanted her to know she wasn't welcome.
Her robe brushed against the ground, and she clutched it tighter around her shoulders. She hated that her palms were sweating. She hated even more that her heart was pounding like she was walking into an execution.
Gadmyne told her nothing. Just— "You will attend. They will test you." —like that was supposed to make me feel any better.
Her mind refused to let go of the dream she had woken from. Her father's face, fierce and stubborn even when chains dug into his wrists. Jamyd's smug smile like poison dripping off lips. And her mother's laughter — bright, free, floating in a field of wildflowers she didn't even know existed in real life. It wasn't fair that her only memory of her mother came through dreams. It wasn't fair that everything she wanted felt stolen from her.
I'll find him. I'll free him. Whatever it takes.
The thought burned through her chest like fire. She needed to cling to it or else she'd drown under the weight of what she was about to face.
Her steps slowed as she reached the end of the corridor. The massive double doors stood in front of her like the mouth of a beast. Carved across their black wood was the sigil of the Noctarii — a circle of shadow split by a thin line of light, surrounded by runes that faintly glowed. The magic pressed against her skin, almost pushing her back, as if whispering, Are you worthy?
Nystrix squared her shoulders. Her whole body screamed that she wasn't ready, but her heart answered differently. She would walk in, no matter what they thought.
The doors opened on their own, groaning like they hadn't been touched in years. A gust of cold air hit her face.
She stepped inside.
The chamber swallowed her whole.
It was vast and circular, the floor polished so smooth it looked like a black mirror. Floating above were globes of silver light, dim and shifting like moons hiding behind clouds. The curved table stretched around the room, made of dark silverwood, its edges carved with names of rulers long turned to ash. Every chair was filled — except one.
Nystrix's chest tightened.
Zanre's eyes locked on her first. His lips curled into a disdainful smirk that almost looked like a snarl. His gaze was venom, his fingers tapping idly on the table as if he couldn't wait to cut her apart with words. You don't belong. Not here. Not anywhere.
Sakie sat beside him, calm, robes flowing like liquid silver. His expression was smoother, measured, but his gaze felt like it could slice just as easily. He didn't sneer, didn't smile — he weighed.
Illus leaned back lazily, his smile soft, almost pleasant. But his eyes gleamed with sharpness that betrayed his act. Manipulation dripped off him in silence, a spider hiding in silk. He gave her a small nod, subtle, like a whisper: I'm on your side. Or maybe I just want you to think I am.
Gadmyne was steady, hands folded on the table. She didn't look at Nystrix with warmth or coldness — just solid, like a mountain that wouldn't move no matter how hard storms slammed against it. Still, Nystrix felt her chest loosen at just the sight of her.
My mother was someone important to her, that's why she's supporting me.
Xladys's lips curved into a sly smile. He leaned forward, watching her with the kind of gaze that made Nystrix feel like she was a game he wanted to play. Approving. Interested. Amused.
Lynch was sprawled out carelessly, her smirk wild. She raised her hand in a lazy wave like they were friends meeting at a tavern, not in front of the most powerful circle in existence. Beside her, Niven mirrored the same recklessness, her grin sharp, mocking. She even gave Nystrix a small, exaggerated bow.
Fenrith sat straight-backed, face carved from ice. His gaze was so cold Nystrix swore the air itself froze under it.
Tallina leaned slightly forward, her stare sharp, piercing. There was no open venom like Zanre, no icy judgment like Fenrith — but her eyes cut deep. An antagonist waiting for weakness, a possible ally waiting for reason. She was both.
Mann and Naise were statues. Silent. Perfectly still. Their eyes blank but not blind, their silence screaming louder than Zanre's sneers. They didn't need to talk to be dangerous. Their pale whitish-green skin looked unnerving and it sent unease through every cell of Nystrix body.
Elmae sat softer, almost quiet, her presence not as heavy but still watchful.
Zaelie, too, hadn't spoken yet, but her eyes tracked Nystrix's every step, curious, sharp.
And the one empty seat: Linrae's. The most mysterious. Sleeping until the Nocturne Concordia. Her absence was a shadow all its own.
The weight of every gaze pressed down on Nystrix until her knees almost buckled.
It was Zanre who spoke first. His voice cut through the chamber, venom dripping from every word.
"So this is her. The little half-blood we've been wasting our time on. The stain of forbidden bloodlines. The one who thinks she can sit beneath our light."
Lynch snorted, tossing her hair back. "Careful, Zanre. If you spit too much venom, people might mistake you for a snake. Or worse — a kettle about to whistle."
Niven grinned wide. "Please, at least the girl's prettier than you. That should count for something."
The room stirred with soft chuckles — some mocking, some annoyed. Zanre's eyes burned holes into both of them.
Sakie lifted his hand, his voice smooth as silk but edged like a knife. "Enough. We're not here for your bickering. Let the girl speak."
Nystrix realized her fists were clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. Her throat was dry, but she forced her voice steady.
"I am Nystrix. Disciple of Gadmyne."
Zanre scoffed so loudly it echoed. "Disciple? Or weapon? Do you even know the difference, girl?"
Illus's voice slid across the table, honeyed, deceptively kind. "Perhaps both. Perhaps that's why she is here. Don't you agree, Gadmyne?"
Every head turned toward the Archwitch.
Gadmyne rose slowly, her shadow stretching long across the mirror floor. Her voice carried weight, steady as a drumbeat.
"She is here because I named her my disciple. And because she is more than she realizes."
Murmurs rippled like waves.
Xladys leaned forward, sly grin deepening. "More? Do tell, Archwitch. Or should we all play guessing games until dawn?"
Nystrix's chest twisted. Her secret wasn't going to stay hers for much longer, but it wasn't meant to be secret anyways.
Gadmyne's gaze swept the circle. Then her voice struck, each word like iron.
"She is not only my disciple. She is not only the child of an executed queen. She is the daughter of Jacqueline, executed queen of the witches' realm… and Slagus, ruler of the shapeshifters."
The chamber erupted.
Gasps. Shouts. Voices clashing like blades.
Zanre slammed his fist against the table, eyes wild. "Lies! Blasphemy! You would defile this circle with such poison?"
"It is not a lie." Gadmyne's voice cut through the storm. "She is their blood. Born in fire and shadow. And she is the hybrid the old prophecies warned of — the one who will decide the fate of the night."
The storm broke louder.
Lynch laughed, clapping her hands. "Now this is fun!"
Niven leaned back, smirking wide. "Told you she was worth keeping."
Fenrith's words were ice daggers. "She is dangerous. The most dangerous creature in this room."
Tallina's voice was sharp, almost curious. "Dangerous indeed. But danger can be wielded. The right hands make a weapon sharp. The wrong ones make it turn back and cut."
Illus's smile was silver. "And perhaps we should ask — whose hands hold her now? Gadmyne's? Or Luthien's?"
Nystrix's chest jolted. His name, spoken here, was a spark in dry tinder.
Zanre sneered, his voice like a whip. "This is madness. A hybrid? A half-blood stain? I will not bow to filth!"
Sakie's voice was smooth but carried steel. "Would you defy prophecy, Zanre? Would you spit on the vows sworn by those who came before us?"
Zaelie finally spoke, cool and even. "The question is not if she is the one. The question is whether she is ready."
The chamber thundered again. Voices piled on top of voices. Arguments. Accusations. Doubts. Hope. Fear.
Nystrix's chest burned. They weren't even speaking to her. They spoke around her, about her, like she was a sword on the table, not a person.
Her voice broke out before she even thought about it.
"I'm not your weapon. I'm not your curse. I'm me. And I'll decide what I'll be."
The words echoed, silencing the storm.
Zanre's eyes were blades. "Arrogant child."
But Xladys's sly smile deepened, his voice smooth with approval. "Arrogant, yes. Or certain. I like her."
Illus's chuckle was soft, dangerous. "So do I."
Mann and Naise didn't move. Their silence was an answer all its own. It spoke volumes, and their answer? They'd be on any side that was victorious.
Finally, Gadmyne's voice struck, final, unshakable.
"You wanted truth. You have it. Do with it what you will. But remember — if you turn against her, you turn against me."
The chamber held its breath.
Nystrix stood in the center, her heart pounding like war drums. Her father's eyes burned in her memory, unbroken even in chains.
The storm wasn't over. It was only beginning, they wanted a weapon, but got me instead.