Arkon rose slowly from his seat, walking with light steps around the table under the watchful eyes of the six Sages.
"The Dragon God has always been an immensely reserved, taciturn, cold, and detached being," Arkon continued, gesturing with his withered hands. "For centuries he lived isolated upon his mountain peaks, almost categorically refusing to have any sort of relationship with the court or the people of Opes. When our people suffered, when famines devastated the villages, Rheaghular never descended from his mountains. And above all... where was the Dragon God during the most atrocious and bloody phases of the war against the Demon Kings?"
Arkon paused, locking eyes with Archmage Vaelen.
"Thousands of our soldiers, dozens of our casters, entire villages were slaughtered and burned for years beneath the advance of the demonic hordes!" Arkon cried out with feigned passion and drama, striking one fist into the palm of his other hand. "And where was Rheaghular? He stood by and watched! He remained in silence, observing our people die in rivers of blood! He intervened only in the final stages of the conflict, when victory was nearly assured and when it served his interests to preserve his legendary name! He allowed thousands of human lives to perish despite his supposed centuries-old bond with the kingdom of Opes!"
Arkon's words fell upon the hall like drops of concentrated poison.
Floating above them, Hayjin felt his spectral blood boil with fury. Arkon was twisting history, exploiting the kingdom's past traumas and resentments to plant the seeds of suspicion against Rheaghular and, by extension, against him.
The other six Sages exchanged uncertain glances. Arkon's argument regarding the Dragon God's historical coldness had clearly breached their emotional defenses.
"And now..." Arkon continued, dropping his voice back to a conspiratorial whisper, "...this very same taciturn and distant being shows up out of nowhere, without warning, accompanied by an unknown boy of whom no trace has ever existed in our records. He introduces him as his son with disarming ease, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and specifically asks that the boy reside in the castle to have direct, prolonged contact with young Princess Wren."
Arkon returned to his seat, resting his palms on the table and staring at his six colleagues one by one.
"How can we trust blindly and unconditionally in a creature that turned its back on us during our darkest hours? How can we know if this 'Hayjin' is truly his son, or if he is instead a pawn a Trojan horse sent by external forces to infiltrate our fortress? Or perhaps a magical experiment whose consequences we cannot fathom? How can we know if the Dragon God isn't the divinity he claims to be and is actually manipulating all of us?"
A heavy silence settled over the Council Chamber. Sage Seraphina crossed her arms over her chest, her expression visibly troubled. Sage Morvath stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Put that way..." Sage Koros murmured, knitting his dark brows, "the sequence of events does indeed appear rather singular. Rheaghular has never asked favors of the Crown. Why start now? And why involve Princess Wren directly?"
"Precisely," Arkon pressed, seeing that the bait had been taken. "Prudence is the foremost duty of a Sage of Opes."
Archmage Vaelen sighed, steepling his gnarled hands on the table. "I admit the situation raises a few legitimate questions, Arkon. Despite the respect we owe the Dragon God, the safety of the princess and the kingdom comes above all else. But tell me... what exactly are you proposing? Deny the boy entry? Or openly challenge the Dragon God?"
An imperceptible, tight, poisonous smile glinted across the corner of Arkon's lips for a fraction of a second before vanishing.
"Absolutely not, my dear Vaelen," Arkon replied in a calm, calculated tone. "Refusing entry would be an open insult we cannot afford. My proposal is quite different... and far more effective in the long run."
Arkon leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"We will allow Rheaghular's alleged son to live here at the castle for a time. We will offer him impeccable hospitality. But we will ensure the boy remains alone, without the protective presence of the Dragon God who I strongly doubt will play babysitter at the castle for more than a few hours. And once the boy is settled... we will seize the opportunity to discover the truth."
"In what way?" Sage Elowen asked, tilting her head with growing mistrust.
"We will use specific mind manipulation and memory extraction magic on him," Arkon said with utter casualness, as though proposing to sign a simple expense report. "A three-tier deep psychic penetration spell. We will forcibly wring every single piece of secret information he possesses from him. If he is a spy, we will know immediately. And if he holds classified intelligence regarding neighboring realms or even the secret plans of the Astrarae Empire... we can seize it and use it to our advantage to ensure the supremacy and safety of Opes!"
Arkon's words echoed through the chamber like a sacrilege spoken in a holy temple.
For a couple of seconds, the other six Sages stood frozen in shock.
Then Archmage Vaelen slammed both open palms onto the stone table with a deafening thud that shook the candles, springing to his feet, his face flushed red with rage.
"ENOUGH, ARKON!" Vaelen roared, his voice thundering powerfully against the frescoed dome. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"
Sage Seraphina and Sage Gerald leaped to their feet as well, their gazes filled with disgust and disdain toward the old caster.
"Using mind manipulation magic on a guest of the Crown?!" Seraphina shrieked, her voice cracking with indignation. "On a boy escorted by the Dragon God himself?! That isn't efficiency, Arkon! That is sheer madness! It is an abominable, violent, and utterly vile act!"
"If Rheaghular were to discover even the attempt of such a violation on the boy's mind," Sage Koros shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Arkon, "he would reduce this fortress and the entire capital to a pile of ash in under ten minutes! Do you realize the absurdity of what you are proposing?!"
"Not to mention the complete immorality of such an act!" Elowen added, her fists clenched tightly. "We are the Sages of Opes! We are the guardians of this nation's justice and honor! We will never stoop to torturing an unknown boy's mind with forbidden magic to extort political secrets! That is behavior worthy of the trashiest criminals or fanatical cultists!"
Arkon remained seated, unruffled by his colleagues' outburst of anger. He raised his hands in feigned humility and regret.
"My dear friends, please... calm yourselves," Arkon said softly. "Mine was merely a suggestion, an extreme assessment born of an excess of zeal for this kingdom's defense. If you deem the method excessive, I withdraw the proposal immediately."
"Excessive?!" Archmage Vaelen exclaimed, still breathing heavily in anger. "It is an abomination! And I order you to purge any such idea from your mind immediately! Mind the boundaries of your role, Arkon! You are strictly forbidden from attempting any reckless action, spell, or manipulation against this boy otherwise, we may well consider taking disciplinary action against you simply for raising such a sick idea!"
Vaelen took a step forward, glaring at Arkon with a look that brooked no argument.
"The boy will reside at the castle as agreed. The only thing we will do and I limit us to this solely out of extreme institutional caution is keep an eye on his behavior from afar through normal patrols by the Royal Guard, without doing ANYTHING invasive or reckless. Have I made myself clear?"
Arkon bowed his head deeply in deference, bringing his hands together over his chest.
"Crystal clear, Venerable Archmage," Arkon replied in an obsequious, almost submissive tone. "The will of the Council is sovereign. I shall restrict myself strictly to observing from a discreet distance, without interfering in any way."
"The session is adjourned," Vaelen decreed in a weary voice, dismissing the council with a wave of his hand.
The six Sages began gathering their parchments, still visibly shaken and incensed by Arkon's proposal. They continued whispering among themselves, exchanging disapproving glances toward their colleague.
Arkon rose calmly from his seat. He adjusted the broad sleeves of his immaculate robes, gave a brief polite bow to the Archmage, and turned to leave the room.
As he walked toward the heavy wooden door, his back turned to the other six Sages who could no longer see his face, Arkon's expression of obsequious submission vanished instantly.
His facial features twisted into a grimace of dark, diabolical satisfaction. A broad, blissful smile spread across his withered lips soaked in a poison and malice so pure it turned the blood cold. His aged eyes gleamed with an unwholesome red light as he stepped across the chamber's threshold.
Floating a few feet away, Hayjin had seen that smile clearly.
The spectral boy trembled with sheer rage. His translucent hands clenched into fists so tight that had he possessed a physical body, he would have broken his fingers.
That damned worm... Hayjin thought, his mind screaming in helpless silence. That vile piece of shit! He wanted to torture my mind before I even set foot in the castle! He wanted to use extraction magic on me to steal political secrets... and when he saw the other Sages turn against him in disgust, he played the whipped pup while inside he was already plotting their demise!
Hayjin's rage reached an unbearable pitch as he watched Arkon's back recede down the hallway.
But right at that moment, as he tried to propel himself forward to follow the old sage, his spectral vision began to tremble violently.
A sudden surge of cosmic nausea enveloped his mind. The environment around him blurred completely, as though reality itself were submerged in boiling water. The colors of the Council Chamber ran together, the granite walls warped, and a thick, dark mist completely blinded him.
Hayjin was forced to shut his eyes, overwhelmed by a sharp ringing that pierced his spectral brain.
He remained in darkness for a single, unending second.
Then, the ringing cut off abruptly.
Hayjin instinctively reopened his eyes. He found himself in the exact same spot: the Grand Council Chamber of the Sages of Opes.
However, the atmosphere around him had altered entirely.
Gone was the warm, welcoming glow of the brass candelabras. No hum of political debates. No parchments spread across the black stone table.
It was dead of night. A sepulchral, unnatural silence, heavy as a boulder, wrapped around the room. The only shafts of light penetrating the circular chamber were the cold, ghostly beams of the full moon filtering through the tall stained-glass windows, casting long, deformed shadows across the floor.
Time had leaped forward several days. Hayjin looked around with guarded urgency. The round table was bare, the red velvet seats scattered in disarray, as if someone had been taken by force or had bolted upright in an emergency.
And that was when Hayjin saw it.
On the dark stone floor, hidden among the shadows cast by the hall's pillars, ran a faint, thin trail of red light.
It was no ordinary light. It was a dense, pulsating magical strand the color of coagulated blood, slithering across the floor like a trail left by a venomous snail. The reddish trace originated from the far end of the room, right behind Archmage Vaelen's head chair, and led toward an apparently solid stone wall.
Hayjin stared at that ominous glow. Instinct told him that behind that wall lay the final answer he was seeking the definitive explanation for the disappearance of the six Sages of Opes.
Without hesitating for a single second, the spectral boy drifted forward through mid-air, ready to follow the blood-red trail of light into the vast, dark secret chambers of the fortress.