The violet lightning crackling over the Palace cast long, jagged shadows across the obsidian courtyard of the Magic Tower. Seraphina and Eveline stood in the heart of the mages' territory, surrounded by faces etched with decades of resentment.
As Seraphina finished her desperate plea for help, the air didn't fill with hope; it filled with a cold, mocking sound. The Archmage let out a dry, hacking laugh that was devoid of any warmth. Behind her, dozens of mages—some no more than children, others grey-haired and withered—joined in. It was a chorus of jagged derision that echoed off the cold stone walls.
"A seat on the Council?" the Archmage sneered. "You offer us a voice in a government that watched as our parents handed us over to the Inquisition?"
The Archmage bypassed Seraphina and walked straight toward Eveline, her eyes flashing with a sharp, violet light. She reached out a withered hand and gripped Eveline's chin.
"Tell me, girl... who was your mother?" the Archmage hissed. "I feel the resonance in your blood. It isn't just 'blessed' light. It is ancient. It has the weight of a lineage the Church tried to prune from the world."
Eveline trembled under the gaze of the ancient mage. The Archmage's eyes softened into a look of grim fascination. "You are not a bandage, girl. You are a weapon that has been taught to believe it is a toy. Come. Step inside the threshold. There are truths your 'Holy Father' buried in the dirt."
She gestured toward the dark, yawning maw of the Tower's entrance.
"We don't have time for this!" Seraphina stepped forward, her hand white-knuckled on her sword hilt. She looked back at the Palace, where the violet hum was reaching a deadly crescendo. "Every second we waste here, the Siphon Stones draw more life from the city. Thousands will die while you play riddles!"
The Archmage turned her head slowly, a chilling, toothy grin spreading across her face. "Time?" she repeated, letting out another dry, rattling laugh. "As a mage, child... we have all the time in the world."
Seraphina opened her mouth to argue, but a young mage standing atop a floating disk of mana interrupted, his voice echoing with a strange, metallic resonance.
"Inside these walls, the ley lines bend to our will! One hour inside is but a minute to the world outside!"
The Archmage leaned into Seraphina's space. "While your 'Empire' blinks, we can forge a soul. We can unmake the lies they told this girl. If you want a weapon capable of shattering a god-tier ritual, you will let her enter."
Eveline looked at the dark corridor of the Tower and then back at the burning sky. She felt the "Holy" seals on her heart straining, the heat of her true magic begging to be let out.
"Seraphina," Eveline said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Go back to the Palace. Support Alaric and Killian. If what they say is true, I can learn in an hour what would take a lifetime. I'll come back as something the Church can no longer control."
Seraphina hesitated, watching the heavy obsidian doors begin to pulse with a deep, blue chronal energy. She realized the Archmage wasn't just offering help; she was offering an awakening.