⚔️ **CHAPTER 10 — Echoes That Were Never His**
The Hall of Echoes had no windows.
Light came from nowhere and everywhere at once, pale and cold, reflecting endlessly off white stone walls carved with ancient runes. Every footstep Kael took returned to him twice—once as sound, once as memory.
This was the place where truth was weighed.
Kael stood alone at the center of the chamber.
Above him, the **High Council of Valenhold** sat in a semicircle of marble thrones, their faces half-hidden beneath ceremonial helms. Power pressed down on him like gravity itself.
"Kael Ardyn," intoned the central voice, deep and echoing. "You stand accused of wielding a legacy not your own."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Kael clenched his fists. "I never claimed it was."
A murmur spread through the council.
"Yet you fight with strength beyond training," another councilor said. "You resonate with seals that should reject you. You survived trials that have killed heirs of noble blood."
Kael swallowed.
"I trained," he said. "I bled. I nearly died more times than I can count. If this power came to me… I didn't steal it."
The floor beneath him shimmered.
Runes ignited.
"Intent does not erase consequence," said the first voice. "The Hall will now judge."
The light shifted.
And suddenly—Kael was no longer alone.
The air grew heavy as shadows formed around him, taking the shape of *memories*. Not his memories—but fragments forced into being.
A younger boy appeared before him.
Seventeen. Same height. Same face.
But his eyes were different.
They burned with despair.
Kael staggered back. "Who are you?"
The boy didn't answer.
Instead, the vision changed.
Kael saw fire. A village collapsing. Knights wearing the same white armor as Valenhold—yet stained red. He felt pain bloom in his chest, sharp and tearing, as if something vital was being pulled away.
"No—" Kael gasped. "Stop!"
The echo-boy screamed as light was ripped from him, dissolving into Kael's own body like stolen breath.
The vision shattered.
Kael fell to one knee, trembling.
The Hall fell silent.
"At last," said a councilor quietly, "the truth surfaces."
Kael lifted his head, heart pounding. "That wasn't me. I've never been there. I've never—"
"But the power was taken," the councilor replied. "Transferred. Bound. *Borrowed.*"
The word echoed endlessly.
Kael's voice shook. "Is he alive?"
No one answered.
"That power you wield," said the central voice, colder now, "belongs to a failed heir of the First Covenant. A boy erased so the world could be preserved."
Kael's breath hitched.
Erased.
"So I'm what?" he whispered. "A replacement?"
"A vessel," another voice corrected. "A temporary solution."
Something inside Kael cracked.
All the praise.
All the victories.
All the moments he believed he was becoming someone—
None of it was truly his.
"Then take it back," Kael said, standing despite the tremor in his legs. "If my existence is a mistake, correct it."
The Hall reacted violently.
Runes flared red. The floor shook.
"Impossible," said the council. "The bond has stabilized. Removing it would kill you."
Kael laughed—short, bitter. "That's convenient."
Silence.
At last, the central voice spoke again, slower now.
"You will remain at Valenhold. You will submit to observation. And you will prepare for the Ascension Trials."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You're afraid."
"We are cautious," the voice replied.
"No," Kael said quietly. "You're afraid of what happens if I choose for myself."
The council did not deny it.
The light dimmed. The trial was over.
As Kael was escorted from the Hall, he glanced back once more—at the place where another boy's life had ended so his could begin.
That night, Kael did not sleep.
Because every time he closed his eyes, he heard a voice whisper from deep within him:
*Give it back.*
And for the first time since coming to Valenhold,
Kael wondered whether surviving was worse than dying.
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