The path to the Council was never direct.
Even for Ashardio.
Especially now.
They watched him differently.
Ever since his return from the Absolute Void. Ever since the Loomfires dimmed around his presence. Some of the Council whispered in private halls — others, behind veils of starlight and smoke.
But one did not whisper.
One waited.
Archon Veliran, Keeper of Tides.
The oldest of the remaining Council members. Crowned in kelp-wrapped gold and scales that shimmered like oil over water. He stood alone in the Hall of Resonance, surrounded by columns carved from frozen waves.
As Ashardio entered, the sea-floor beneath the Council's suspended sanctum pulsed faintly. Like a heartbeat buried beneath centuries of tide.
"I knew you'd come," Veliran said without turning.
Ashardio's voice was low, controlled. "Then you know what I'm going to ask."
The old Celestial turned, and his eyes — deep sapphires threaded with storm — bore into Ashardio's.
"No," he said. "But I feared it."
A pause stretched like an undertow.
Ashardio stepped closer, shadows trailing beneath his boots.
"Who is she?"
Veliran's jaw tensed. "You already know."
"I want it said."
"You won't like it said."
Ashardio's hand twitched. The Absolute Void shimmered beneath his fingertips like a coiled thing.
Veliran sighed.
He walked toward one of the columns and placed his palm against the cold stone. It rippled, revealing a hidden mural.
Thirteen thrones.
Again.
But this time, the thirteenth was not cracked.
It was chained.
"The House of Vaes'theron," Veliran said. "Was not exiled."
"They were imprisoned."
Ashardio's breath hitched.
Veliran's voice was softer now. "Your bloodline didn't rebel alone. There was another. One born not of kingship, but of memory."
He turned to face Ashardio fully.
"She is not your friend. She is your seal."
Ashardio staggered. "What do you mean?"
Veliran stepped forward, voice now steeped in centuries of sorrow. "When your line attempted to rewrite the lattice of fate — the others could not destroy you. You were too integrated."
"So the Council wove a prison of flesh and soul."
"One thread… one girl… woven through time. Not to destroy you. Not to stop you."
"To tether you."
The chamber trembled faintly.
Ashardio's eyes widened. "Kaelith."
Veliran nodded once.
"She is not who she thinks she is. She is not what you think you love."
He hesitated. "But neither are you."
Silence.
Crushing. Final.
Ashardio's voice broke like cracked obsidian. "Did she ever have a choice?"
Veliran looked away.
"No. She was the price."
Ashardio turned, fury and sorrow boiling beneath his skin, Void humming in protest.
But before he could leave, Veliran spoke again, his voice barely more than a ripple.
"There's more."
Ashardio froze.
Veliran walked to the center of the hall, where water spiraled into a translucent globe, filled with threads of drifting memory.
"The chain is breaking."
Ashardio turned slowly.
"What?"
Veliran's face was grave. "Kaelith is remembering. The tether was never perfect."
"If she remembers fully… you won't be able to walk away from what you are."
Ashardio stepped into the edge of the light. "And what am I?"
Veliran stared into him.
"The thirteenth throne was never broken."
"It was hidden… because it is not a throne."
"It is a gate."
Ashardio's veins froze.
The whispers returned.
Not around him.
Inside.