I didn't answer immediately.
The chains of light hovered inches from my wrists, humming with authority older than the Academy itself. The suppression field pressed harder, like the world was daring me to breathe too deeply.
Lysara shook her head at me, barely perceptible, but I saw it.
Don't fight them here.
Archon Valthis waited patiently, as if he already knew the outcome. That calm—that certainty—angered me more than the Watcher ever had.
I exhaled slowly.
"If I go with you," I said, voice steady despite the fragments clawing inside me, "does she come too?"
Valthis glanced at Lysara. "She will be confined to the infirmary and later questioned. Her actions will be reviewed."
Lysara opened her mouth to protest.
I cut her off. "Then I'll go."
The fragments went still.
Not in submission.
In shock.
Valthis raised a brow. "You choose compliance?"
"For now," I said.
The chains snapped shut around my wrists—cold, heavy, precise. The suppression deepened, and pain flared behind my eyes as the fragments were forced further inward. My wings did not return.
Lysara grabbed my arm. "Eryndor—don't let them—"
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Live. Heal. Watch."
Her eyes widened.
"Because if they're afraid of me now," I whispered, "they should be terrified later."
The chains pulled me forward.
As I was led away, the battlefield faded behind me, replaced by towering corridors of white stone and sigil-lit arches. The Academy's inner sanctum—the place students weren't meant to see.
The Hall of Judgment.
They locked me inside a circular chamber carved with concentric runes, each one designed to strip power, memory, or will. The door sealed behind me with a sound like a tomb closing.
Silence.
Then darkness.
I sank to one knee, breathing hard.
"You shouldn't have agreed," a voice whispered.
I froze.
The fragments stirred—but the voice wasn't theirs.
A shadow detached itself from the wall opposite me, coalescing into a familiar, broken shape.
The fallen deity.
"You let them cage you," it said softly. "Interesting."
I stared. "How are you here?"
It smiled without humor. "Because places like this are built to hold power. And power always leaks."
The fragments pulsed faintly, sensing opportunity… danger… recognition.
"You stand at a crossroads, fracture-bearer," the fallen god continued. "Obedience leads to containment. Resistance leads to annihilation."
"So what's the third path?" I asked.
Its eyes glinted.
"Transformation."
The runes on the walls flickered.
Deep beneath the chamber, something answered—slow, vast, patient.
The same hunger from beneath the battlefield.
The fallen deity leaned closer.
"They think you are the subject of judgment," it whispered.
"But this chamber?"
Its smile widened.
"It is an altar."
The lights dimmed.
The runes began to glow red.
And somewhere far above, I felt the Watcher turn its gaze back toward me.