They didn't wake to disaster.
They woke to… formality.
Which somehow felt worse.
Someone knocked.
Not urgently.
Not threateningly.
Just in that controlled, quiet way that said the person on the other side had authority and expected to be obeyed.
Aiden opened the door.
A woman stood there. Not a soldier. Not a servant. Not a spy pretending not to be one.
She wore austere robes, the kind that belonged to officials who didn't need ornamentation to be intimidating. She held a folder to her chest, posture perfect, gaze clear.
"Aiden," she said, already knowing the answer. "By directive, you are requested for a civic consultation."
Liora blinked. "Translation?"
Seris grimaced. "Someone wants to talk. Formally."
"Preferably before someone else does," the woman added politely.
Aiden glanced at Inkaris.
"Is this… dangerous?"
"In the immediate sense? No," Inkaris said. "In the long-term sense?"
He paused.
"Yes."
Aiden ran a hand down his face. "Wonderful."
They followed.
The halls they walked were not threatening. Clean stone. Steady lanternlight. People moving with purpose. It felt like the city wearing an official face and daring anyone to question whether that face was real.
They were led to a chamber.
Large.
Not grand.
Functional elegance.
Duchess Aureline Veskor did not greet them at the door.
She did not need to.
She was already seated at the center of control, quill still nearby, tea untouched, gaze focused.
"Aiden," she said. "Sit."
It wasn't a command.
Yet nobody considered disobeying.
He sat.
Liora hovered near him.
Seris remained alert.
Inkaris stood behind them, as though this were a demonstration he wanted Aiden to learn from.
Aureline folded her hands.
"Pressure," she said calmly, "has begun to gather."
Aiden swallowed. "From…?"
"Everywhere," she replied. "The Church sees miracles they do not issue. That unsettles them. That means sermons lose leverage. Rituals lose meaning. Donations lose motivation.
Various civic branches see an unpredictable influence entering their carefully measured systems. That unsettles them. Men of regulation do not appreciate unknown elements."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"And certain political minds see an opportunity. That… concerns me most."
Aiden's stomach twisted.
"So people want something from me."
"Everyone wants something from you," Aureline corrected gently. "For different reasons. Some will try to wrap it in blessing. Some will wrap it in law. Some will wrap it in ideological 'necessity.' None of them are offering you freedom."
Liora's fists clenched.
Seris exhaled slowly.
"And you?" Aiden asked.
"I," Aureline said, "am offering you time."
Silence.
No grand speech.
No declared loyalty.
No false comfort.
Just that.
Time.
"So what do you want from me?" he asked.
Finally.
Directly.
Aureline's expression didn't change.
"When the city inevitably demands proof that you are not a destabilizing force," she said, "I would prefer not to discover the answer at the same time they do. I support you. I shelter you. But that means when someone demands, 'Why?', I must be able to respond with something other than, 'Because I said so.'"
"So you want… assurances?" Seris asked.
"No," Aureline said softly.
"I want understanding."
She stood.
"For today, you will accompany Inkaris. He has arranged… demonstrations. Situations where wishes and politics intersect. You will observe. You will learn. You will decide what kind of being you intend to be."
Her eyes rested on him.
"And then, Aiden, when the city asks what you are…"
"You will be able to answer."
She dismissed them with a small gesture.
The corridor felt different after that.
Heavier.
More real.
They walked in silence for a while, until Aiden finally spoke.
"So… that's it then." He laughed weakly. "No prophecy. No destiny speech. Just—figure it out."
"Yes," Inkaris said.
"Welcome," he added dryly,
"to responsibility."