Elder Myra rose.
Five written parchments were clasped tightly between her ink-stained fingers.
"Grand Elder." She inclined her head with precise formality. "Thank you for the floor."
Aerion acknowledged her with a slight nod.
Myra turned to the chamber.
"As I stated earlier, my findings are structured in five parts. Each addresses a separate vector of concern which, once assembled, forms the full statistical and strategic picture surrounding this trial. But before I proceed, there are clarifications that must be made."
"For the duration of these proceedings, House Roa has been treated as a reservoir for deferral — a convenient mechanism by which the other Houses have purchased time, indecision, and distance from accountability. In doing so, you have, perhaps unintentionally, positioned me as the final matrix upon which this vote will crystallise."
Her fingers tightened briefly around the parchments. "I will not pretend that this is comfortable. But I will accept it. On one condition."
Her eyes lifted fully.
"There will be no scoffing. No interruptions. No rhetorical posturing masquerading as insight. And no judgement — before, during, or after my presentation — until every stance has been laid bare."
The chamber grew still.
"If any Elder present finds that standard unreasonable, voice your objection now." She allowed the silence to stretch. "But understand that I will dispense with this exercise entirely and leave you all to proceed with the vote according to your own discretion."
Her gaze moved — measured, unflinching — from face to face. Maren did not meet it. Zerus's jaw tightened. Others stared ahead with carefully neutral expressions.
No one spoke.
Myra exhaled — a controlled breath she had not realised she had been holding for days. "Good." Neither triumph nor relief. Only approval.
She aligned the parchments with meticulous care before lifting the first. "The First Stance. The internal stability of this Council."
"For my own sanity, I omitted this Council entirely from my vector of calculation and anchored my analysis in historical precedent." Her eyes scanned the figures. "Which yielded a ninety-one percent probability of internal stability tilting negative, with a seven percent margin of error."
Gazes fixed. Minds turned.
"From the first Trial sanctioned under the Seventh Council through the last recorded invocation at the Twelfth generation, erasure has consistently been followed by catastrophe. Entire regions collapsed. Public sentiment dropped. Civil unrest escalated. And above all else — the cost of those aligned with the bearer. The Evernight are not known for absorbing transgression against their own with lowered heads. They will plot. They will rise. They will, without doubt, carve another fracture into our already trembling foundation."
Silence. No one spoke. Data did not allow argument.
Myra smiled faintly and slid the first sheet to the back of the stack.
"The Second Stance. The Patriarch." Her gaze lifted, sharper now. "What follows if we choose to silence the boy here? Preferably murder him outright, as some might fully embrace?"
"Be certain of this: the Patriarch's already foul mood will worsen. Drastic will become inevitable. Given how carefully his eyes — and more importantly, his blades — have watched this Council, he will have all the right questions to deem us complicit, and every tool necessary to see us executed for unjustified harm to one of his cubs. Despised or not."
She let that sit before continuing.
"Then there is the second option: we carry our losses and grant the boy the Blood Trial. On one hand, the Patriarch may be impressed — not by this Council, but by the boy himself. Reckless enough to be caught. Fearless enough to bare his teeth. Choosing, as the Patriarch so often preaches, to die with a blade in hand rather than kneel for forgiveness." She inclined her head slightly. "That outcome carries a degree of favour. Not certainty, but favour nonetheless."
"However, there is another interpretation." Her voice cooled. "He may instead conclude that we engineered the Blood Trial deliberately — that we sought the boy's erasure through overwhelming force, then concealed the attempt beneath the language of law and tradition. Should he arrive at that conclusion, the consequences will be severe."
She lowered the parchment.
"Regardless of which path we choose, loss is unavoidable. But the mathematics remain painfully clear." Her eyes swept the chamber. "We stand to lose far more by harming the boy here than by allowing the Blood Trial to proceed."