The Hall of Verdicts did not reopen.
Instead, the stone doors remained sealed, their runes dimmed into a dormant state that felt less like mercy and more like containment. The silence inside the chamber was oppressive, stretched taut between ancient authority and a truth that had slipped beyond control.
Sandra stood at the center of it all.
Her body had stopped trembling, but something inside her had shifted irreversibly. The golden lattice no longer pulsed visibly beneath her skin; it had withdrawn inward, settling deep in her veins like a second circulatory system. Every breath felt heavier, fuller, as though the air itself responded to her presence.
She was aware of Tristan's hand still wrapped around hers—steady, grounding. Sebastian stood close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, his stance angled outward, defensive, predatory. Neither had moved since the seal shattered.
Across from them, the Council remained unnervingly still.
High Chancellor Vaelor broke the silence at last. "You should not have survived that awakening."
Sandra lifted her chin slowly. "But I did."
Vaelor studied her with renewed intensity, no longer pretending neutrality. "Yes. And that confirms what we feared."
Lyra stepped forward, voice cutting through the tension like steel. "Or what you buried."
Several Council members stiffened.
"You knew," Lyra continued. "You always knew the Primordial Seal was bound to an heir. You hid it behind ritual and politics and hoped the bloodline would die out."
Vaelor's expression hardened. "We hoped it would remain dormant."
Sandra frowned. "You're talking about me as if I'm a mistake."
"No," Vaelor replied evenly. "We are talking about you as an inevitability."
Tristan's voice dropped into a low, controlled register. "Then speak plainly. What is this prophecy?"
The Chancellor gestured, and the runes embedded in the chamber walls flickered back to life. Light pooled at the center of the room, coalescing into a three-dimensional script—ancient, angular, alive with faint motion.
Sandra felt it before she understood it.
The glyphs resonated with her blood.
Lyra inhaled slowly. "The Codex of Origin."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "That's a myth."
Lyra shook her head. "No. It's a suppressed record."
Vaelor began to recite, his voice echoing unnaturally as the glyphs translated themselves into a language the room could understand.
When the balance fractures and the System devours its own creators,
the blood that remembers will awaken.
From silence, the Hidden Heir shall rise—
bearer of the whole, not the fragment.
She will carry the key to creation unbound,
and through her choice, the world shall either be reforged…
…or unmade.
The final words faded into silence.
Sandra felt cold.
"That's it?" she asked quietly. "That's the prophecy you're terrified of?"
Vaelor's gaze sharpened. "You are the first Primordial carrier in generations to reach convergence while bound to a triad of heirs. That was never anticipated."
Sebastian let out a short, humorless laugh. "So the problem isn't her power. It's that she isn't alone."
Tristan didn't deny it. "You can't isolate her. You can't control her."
A murmur rippled through the Council.
Vaelor stood. "You misunderstand. Control is irrelevant now. The moment the seal shattered, the prophecy entered its irreversible phase."
Sandra's heartbeat spiked. "What does that mean?"
Lyra answered before the Chancellor could. "It means the prophecy no longer describes a possibility. It describes a process."
Sandra's fingers curled slowly. "A process toward what?"
Lyra met her eyes. "Toward the First Heir."
The words landed with crushing weight.
Sebastian went still.
Tristan's grip tightened imperceptibly.
Sandra swallowed. "You're saying this prophecy isn't about war. Or domination."
"No," Lyra said softly. "It's about succession."
Vaelor resumed, his tone colder now. "The System was created to regulate bloodlines, to prevent extinction through chaos. But the Primordial lineage exists outside it. An heir born of that blood would not be bound by System constraints."
Sandra's breath fractured. "You mean… a child."
Silence answered her.
Tristan turned sharply toward Vaelor, silver eyes blazing. "You hid this from her."
"We hid it from everyone," Vaelor replied. "Because an unregulated heir represents the end of Council authority."
Sebastian's voice dropped, lethal. "So instead you planned to use her. Or erase her."
Vaelor did not deny it.
Sandra took a step back, the enormity of it pressing down on her. "You're talking about my body like it's a battlefield."
Lyra moved to her side. "That's exactly what it is to them."
Sandra's stomach twisted. "And the triad?"
Lyra hesitated, then spoke with brutal honesty. "The Primordial bloodline does not propagate randomly. It seeks balance. Strength. Compatibility of instinct."
Her gaze flicked to Tristan. Then to Sebastian.
"Your bond with them is not incidental. It is structural."
Tristan exhaled slowly. "So this is why the resonance reacted to us."
"Yes," Lyra said. "Your presence stabilizes her. And in time…" She paused. "…it would influence conception."
Sebastian's jaw clenched. "That's not a decision anyone else gets to make."
Sandra felt her chest tighten painfully. "None of this is a decision I've made."
Vaelor nodded once. "And yet, the process has begun."
The chamber lights flickered.
Lyra stiffened. "They're accelerating scans."
Sebastian turned sharply. "Council agents?"
"External," Lyra corrected. "Multiple signatures. The Null Fangs are not alone anymore."
Tristan's posture shifted instantly. "Which faction?"
Lyra's expression darkened. "Several. Word of the seal's rupture is spreading faster than expected."
Vaelor's composure cracked for the first time. "This was not supposed to happen."
Sebastian scoffed. "That's what happens when you build a system on suppression."
Sandra's head throbbed as fragments of sensation surged—futures brushing against her consciousness, not images but pressure. Possibility. Choice.
She pressed a hand to her chest. "I can feel something changing. Not just power. Direction."
Lyra nodded. "Your instincts are aligning with the lineage. Soon, the Primordial will begin prioritizing survival of the heir over everything else."
Tristan's voice hardened. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning her body will start making decisions before her mind does."
Sandra's breath hitched. "You mean I could lose control."
"Yes," Lyra said gently. "Unless you anchor it."
Sebastian's eyes snapped to Lyra. "How?"
Lyra didn't look away. "Through connection. Trust. Emotional stability."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Vaelor spoke again, quieter now. "This is why the Council must intervene. Before attachment overrides reason."
Tristan took a step forward, aura flaring cold and sharp. "If you try to separate us, you'll destabilize her completely."
Sebastian mirrored him. "And then you'll get exactly what you fear."
Sandra looked between them, heart pounding. "Stop. Both of you."
They froze instantly.
She drew a slow breath. "I'm not running. And I'm not being hidden like a relic. If this prophecy is real—if an heir is even a possibility—then I decide what happens next."
Vaelor studied her carefully. "You underestimate the forces that will come for you."
Sandra met his gaze, steady despite the fear coiled inside her. "Then you underestimate me."
A long silence followed.
Lyra inclined her head, a gesture of rare respect. "She's right. If you try to cage her now, the Primordial will respond violently."
Vaelor closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, something had shifted. "Then we adapt."
Sebastian's voice was sharp. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Vaelor said, "the Council will publicly declare you under protective observation, not containment."
Tristan didn't relax. "And privately?"
Vaelor's gaze hardened. "Privately, we prepare for war."
The chamber doors finally unsealed with a low, resonant hum.
Lyra turned to Sandra. "This is the last moment of quiet you'll have."
Sandra nodded slowly, understanding settling into her bones. "Then I won't waste it."
She stepped forward, between Tristan and Sebastian, her shoulders squared.
"I don't know what future this prophecy points to," she said evenly. "But I won't let anyone decide it for me. Not the Council. Not the System. Not fate."
The golden lattice stirred faintly beneath her skin, responding to her resolve.
And for the first time since the awakening, the fear receded—replaced by something sharper.
Purpose.
As they exited the Hall of Verdicts, alarms echoed faintly in the distance.
The Academy was already shifting.
And the prophecy had begun to move.