The council chamber smelled faintly of incense and iron — a mix of prayer and war. Tall stained-glass windows painted the floor in shifting colors, but today, their beauty felt cold and distant.
Rihan stood in the center of the circle, Kael and Elira at his sides. The twelve council members, robed in deep scarlet, sat upon their high thrones, their eyes sharp as blades.
The echo of Grandmaster Thalros's staff striking the floor silenced the hall.
"Report."
---
⚔️ The Debrief
Rihan's voice was steady, though his chest still bore the ache of battle.
"The village was gone. Shadows devoured it. The creatures carried a mark — a serpent. They fought as though… controlled."
Elira stepped forward, her bow strapped across her back.
"It was Draemir's sigil. I've seen it once before, in the border wars. This was no accident. Someone guided those beasts."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Councilors leaned in, exchanging whispers.
Kael's jaw clenched. "And they sent us in blind. You knew this wasn't just a border skirmish."
At that, silence fell.
---
🎭 Divided Voices
One of the elder councilors, High Seer Malrik, rose from his seat. His white beard trembled with indignation.
"This proves what I feared. The boy is a beacon. Draemir's creatures come because of him. He is not our savior — he is the bait!"
Another, Lady Veyra, countered sharply. Her golden eyes blazed.
"Wrong. He faced the serpent-marked beast and triumphed. Had it not been for him, Valdorium would already be burning. The Flame chose him for a reason."
The chamber erupted into arguments. Some demanded Rihan's exile, others called him their strongest hope. The sound of it pressed like a storm against his ears.
---
🕯️ Rihan's Voice
Rihan's patience snapped. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise.
"You sit here debating what I am, while villages burn. I didn't ask for this power — but if Draemir is using me as bait, then fine. Let him come. I'll cut down every shadow he sends."
The hall went still. Councilors stared, stunned at his defiance.
Thalros's stern face softened — just slightly.
"Your fire burns bright, Champion. But fire can warm, or it can destroy. Control it, or it will consume us all."
---
📜 The Revelation
Thalros raised his staff, the red gem atop it glowing faintly.
"Know this, Champion — the mission you faced was not mere duty. It was a test. A trial to measure if you are worthy of the Flame's title."
Rihan's hands curled into fists.
"A test? Those villagers were slaughtered — and you call it a test?"
Thalros's eyes darkened.
"Do not mistake us for gods. We cannot save every soul. But we can choose where to strike, when it matters most. And if you cannot accept that weight, then you are unfit for the path ahead."
The words cut deeper than any blade. Rihan's chest ached, but he held his ground.
---
🌑 The Shadow Confirmed
Lady Veyra leaned forward.
"The serpent mark leaves no doubt. Draemir has risen. The Eclipse stirs again."
The council chamber grew colder, the torches dimming as if the very name carried weight.
Kael muttered, "So it's true. The Forgotten War wasn't the end."
Elira's gaze shifted to Rihan. "Then we don't have time. Every village that falls strengthens Draemir's army."
Thalros struck his staff once more.
"Then it begins. The Champion's March. Rihan, you will lead the Flame's chosen across the realm. Seek allies, destroy cult strongholds, and prepare for the war to come."
---
🌌 After the Storm
The council adjourned, their arguments unfinished, their gazes heavy upon him.
Outside the chamber, Rihan leaned against the stone wall, his breath unsteady.
"They don't trust me," he muttered.
Elira touched his arm gently. "Some don't. But trust isn't given, it's earned. You showed them today. You'll keep showing them."
Kael smirked faintly. "Besides… if you piss them off enough, maybe they'll all resign and we can finally get some peace."
Rihan laughed, though the sound carried more exhaustion than joy. Still, for the first time since arriving in this world, the weight on his shoulders felt like something he could carry.
---
👁️ In the Shadows
Far beyond the council hall, within a cave where violet crystals pulsed like dying hearts, Draemir's cult gathered.
Lyra stood at the center, her silver hair glowing faintly in the gloom. Her violet eyes narrowed as she traced the serpent sigil on the ground.
"So… he passed their trial." Her lips curled into a smile both sorrowful and cruel.
"Good. Let him grow. The stronger he becomes, the sweeter it will be when he breaks."
The shadows whispered back in agreement, and the cavern trembled with Draemir's unseen laughter.