The chamber was silent, thick with power and tension. High banners bearing the crests of five noble houses hung above, unmoving, as if even the air dared not stir. The council table—wide, polished obsidian—reflected the glint of candlelight and the expressions of those seated.
At the head sat High Chancellor Velryn, aged and sharp-eyed, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Flanking him were nobles and advisors from two kingdoms—Aurellion and Virellith, long-time allies teetering on the edge of unease.
Then came the names.
"Valerborne."
The moment it left his mouth, the room shifted. Eyes flicked toward the man in black at the far end of the table. Thaleis Valerborne sat upright, expression unreadable, shadow clinging to him like a second skin. He did not flinch, but the silence that followed was louder than any outcry.
"And Ravenshade," continued Velryn, almost gently.
All eyes turned next to the quiet couple seated in silver-threaded robes—Caelum and Isolde Ravenshade. They gave no reaction, but their stillness held the weight of stormclouds. Caelum's fingers tapped once against the table and stopped. Isolde's gaze stayed locked on the Chancellor, as though daring him to continue.
"Two echo-born."
A tremor passed through the room.
One of the advisors leaned forward, voice shaking. "That... that hasn't occurred in centuries. Not since the fall of the Mirror Realm."
"We do not speak of the Mirror Realm lightly," Thaleis said quietly, his tone enough to send a chill through the others.
Velryn ignored the warning and pressed on. "And yet, the evidence is there. Seraphina Ravenshade and Lioren Valerborne. Their combat instincts were beyond their age. Their mana outputs exceeded our projected thresholds by... dangerous margins."
"Anomalies," said an old Virellian noble. "Fine. But three more children received the same scrolls. Are we suggesting an epidemic of brilliance?"
A hush fell as their names were listed:
Kael Aurelius. Ivan Virellia. Celeste Nairoveth.
Kael, the lightning-wielding prodigy who never broke a sweat. Ivan, the detached ice-blooded tactician who froze an entire dueling arena. Celeste, the tempestuous daughter of wealth, whose water magic bent unnaturally to her will.
"They are gifted," said Chancellor Velryn. "But not echo-born. Their affinities simply possess... rare mutations."
"And yet Seraphina conjured fire that responded like a sentient beast," murmured one of the mages. "And Lioren moved like shadow incarnate. He didn't just fight—he disappeared."
A beat.
"What do we do with them?" someone finally asked.
It was a simple question, but it hung like poison in the air.
Velryn looked to Caelum and Isolde. "You are her guardians. Do you understand what this could mean?"
Caelum's voice was calm, barely more than a breath. "We do."
Isolde met his eyes. "And we ask you to remember she's still a child."
Thaleis's voice followed like a blade. "Lioren is no child. He is Valerborne. He will not fail."
There was nothing fatherly in his tone. Only command. Only control.
A younger mage dared to speak up. "But what if we cannot control them? What if the Mirror Fractures are linked to their return?"
Everyone froze.
"Do not say that name lightly," the Virellian noble snapped.
But it was said. Echo-born. Mirror Realms. The weight of it settled in the room.
"The fractures are growing," the Chancellor finally admitted. "If we do nothing, we may regret it."
A pause.
Then a new voice. Quiet. Careful. "Then let them grow... but inside the academy. Watch them. Test them. Let them awaken naturally."
Caelum nodded. "That is all we ask."
Thaleis said nothing.
The verdict was sealed.
They would go to Elarion Academy.
To be trained.
To be tested.
And perhaps, to become the fire or shadow that saved—or shattered—the world.