The morning after my decision dawned grey and cold, a fitting mirror for the reality that awaited me. The warmth of the tower room, the softness in Kaelen's eyes, the electric charge of our shared moment—all of it faded with the rising sun, replaced by the harsh, immutable facts of politics and law.
Sir Edric brought my breakfast with his usual efficiency, but his face was grimmer than I had ever seen it. He set the tray down and stood by the door, his hand on his sword, his gaze fixed on some middle distance that held more meaning than the present.
"The Church has filed a formal petition with the Academy council," he said quietly. "They are demanding an expedited ruling on their claim. Last night, Inquisitor Voss submitted a brief, referencing seventeen precedents that established ecclesiastical jurisdiction over manifested holy power. The council is convening an emergency session this afternoon."
