The Council chamber smelled of old stone and older secrets.
Aria had walked these halls before as an outsider. As a threat. As something to be debated.
Tonight, she entered as a variable no one could calculate.
The doors groaned open, and the chamber beyond glowed in a circle of suspended flame. Elders lined the crescent tiers, their robes pooling like ink spills across polished marble. The air felt tight, like the sky before lightning commits.
Damien walked at her side, not touching her, but near enough that she could feel his presence like a steady drumbeat against the strange new rhythm beneath her skin.
Elder Maelis rose first.
"The fissure has not reopened," she said, voice echoing. "The wards remain intact."
A pause.
"But they respond differently."
Aria did not flinch. "Yes."
A murmur rippled outward.
"You altered foundational magic without Council sanction," another elder snapped. "You intertwined the Citadel's wards with an unbound force."
