Daphne’s expression shifted, the playful heat draining away. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper as she glanced toward the lab door, checking the security seals out of habit. "I don’t know what this is about. But we need to be careful. Very careful."
She turned back to him, her scientist’s mask sliding firmly into place, though he could see the worry flickering behind her violet eyes. "Let do most of the talking when we get there. And for the love of the Founders, don’t volunteer any information they don’t explicitly ask for." She paused, holding his gaze. "I know you’re not careless, but this is different. One wrong word and they’ll use it against you."
Zaeryn nodded, his stomach twisting. The timing couldn’t be worse. He was finally making real progress becoming a Tier 2 Vitae wielder, building genuine connections at the academy. He wasn’t just surviving anymore; he was thriving. And now Lysara was calling an ergency session?
"Co on," Daphne said, already moving toward the door. "The longer we take, the worse this looks."
They moved through the Citadel’s corridors quickly, footsteps echoing in the sterile hallways. Other personnel gave them curious glances the Chief Scientist and the mysterious male, both moving with obvious urgency.
The Council Chamber was in the central administrative tower, a fifteen-minute walk that felt like an eternity. Zaeryn’s mind raced through scenarios, each worse than the last.
Daphne had buttoned her lab coat properly, but her hair was still slightly disheveled, lips faintly swollen. She walked with brisk, almost angry efficiency, the click of her heels like gunshots against polished floors.
Zaeryn kept pace, hands in his pockets. Frustration simred beneath his surface interrupted at the worst possible mont by the High Commander herself but he was also alert. This eting had been called specifically about him. That couldn’t be good.
What made him more uneasy was the new sensation humming beneath his awareness his Combat Instincts. It was a low-level buzz, a constant assessnt of threat that made the air feel thinner, sharper.
"You okay?" he asked quietly as they neared the massive double doors.
"I’m fine," Daphne said, staring straight ahead. "I just hate politics. And I hate interruptions."
"We can pick up where we left off later," he murmured, leaning closer.
Daphne’s step faltered for a microsecond, but she didn’t look at him. "Focus, Zaeryn. Lysara doesn’t call ergency sessions lightly. This is serious."
Hearing her confirm it sent a spike of anxiety through his chest. "Yeah. Serious."
The doors didn’t hiss open they bood, revealing the cavernous circular chamber beyond.
Last ti, half the seats had been empty. Today, every single chair was occupied.
Twelve seats. Twelve of the most powerful won in Sector 7.
High Commander Lysara sat at the head, her presence dominating the room like a gravity well. To her right sat Lady Valerius, cool and unreadable as always. To her left, Annalise offered Zaeryn a small, encouraging nod, though she looked far more serious than usual.
And then there was the opposition.
Commander Charlotte Thorne sat rigid, her uniform pressed to perfection, her glare hot enough to lt steel. Beside her sat Zia, the silver-braided woman who’d exposed his secret in the hospital wing. She was smiling a thin, curve of lips that didn’t reach her eyes.
That smile told Zaeryn everything he needed to know. She’d orchestrated this.
But it was the other faces that drew his attention the six mbers he hadn’t t yet. So were physically present, others high-resolution holograms flickering in their seats. All of them radiated the sa intense, judging aura.
"Sit," Lysara commanded. She didn’t gesture to the center of the room like last ti. She pointed to a chair positioned slightly behind her and Daphne a spot that suggested protection, or perhaps possession.
At least he had the High Commander on his side.
Zaeryn sat. Daphne took her seat at the table, violet eyes scanning faces, calculating odds.
"We are all here," Lysara announced, her voice filling every corner of the chamber. "I called this ergency session because secrets have beco a liability. Rumors are circulating regarding the male student, Zaeryn Noctis."
She paused, letting her gaze sweep the entire table.
"Those rumors are true. Zaeryn is not rely immune to the Fade. He is a confird Vitae wielder."
The reaction was imdiate. A ripple of shock passed through the six mbers who hadn’t been briefed. No gasps or murmurs just sudden stillness, widened eyes, a few expressions of outright horror.
"A male?" One of the holographic councilors spoke, her voice slightly distorted. Despite her stunning features, she carried herself like an elder stateswoman. She reminded Zaeryn imdiately of Charlotte Thorne. "That is biologically impossible. It violates foundational law."
"It violates established patterns, Councilor Vane," Daphne cut in sharply. "Not possibility. The data is irrefutable. I’ve run the diagnostics myself. Multiple tis."
"Diagnostics you ran while sleeping with him?" Zia’s voice sliced through the room, smooth and poisonous.
Daphne slamd her hand on the table, the sound cracking like a whip. "My personal life is not on trial here, Zia. The scientific data stands regardless of who collected it."
"Does it?" Zia turned to address the rest of the table, spreading her hands in mock reasonableness. "We’re being asked to accept a fundantal anomaly a male who steals power from won. A parasite."
"He adapts," Lady Valerius corrected, her tone arctic. "There is a significant difference."
"His ability is not parasitic," Daphne added firmly. "The chanism is mimicry-based integration, not extraction or theft."
"Throwing complex terminology at it doesn’t change the fundantal nature of what he does," Charlotte Thorne rose to her feet, knuckles white as she gripped the table’s edge. "He absorbs the abilities of those he touches. That is unacceptable."
"Can you explain precisely why that’s unacceptable?" Lady Valerius asked, her expression giving nothing away. "Mimicry exists as a docunted Vitae ability. There are wielders with similar capabilities throughout the Queendom and beyond. Are you suggesting their powers are also unacceptable?"
Thorne looked montarily cornered, then rallied. "No because unlike them, he represents a systemic threat to order itself. His mimicry functions on a level that will eventually make him the greatest enemy this world has ever known."
She looked around the table, making eye contact with the unfamiliar faces. "We cannot allow this. We cannot permit a male to infiltrate Warlady ranks. It’s an insult to every woman who has bled for this Citadel, for this Queendom."
"Charlotte," Lysara said, her voice carrying absolute authority, "I’ve already made my position clear. My decision is final. You will not change my mind."
Zaeryn watched the room carefully. He didn’t speak. He let his Combat Instincts read the dynamics, the subtle shifts in posture and expression.
He saw it happen in real ti.
Lysara, Valerius, Daphne, and Annalise ford a solid block of four. Powerful, but outnumbered.
Zia and Thorne had done their howork. Four of the other councilors won Zaeryn didn’t know were nodding along with Thorne’s rhetoric. They leaned away from Lysara, body language closing off defensively. They looked at Zaeryn not with curiosity, but with fear. And disgust.
"I agree with Commander Thorne," one of the new won said. She had sharp, avian features and wore robes that marked her as Judiciary. "This... individual... represents an unacceptable liability. If the Tribunal discovers we’re harboring a male Vitae user, they will sanction the entire Sector."
"Agreed," another woman added, arms crossed. "He should be contained. Neutralized if necessary."
"We cannot risk Citadel stability for one boy," a third chid in.
"It’s unnatural," the fourth said, but her eyes locked on Zaeryn with fascination rather than disgust like she wanted to leave her seat and examine this anomaly up close.
The remaining two mbers stayed silent, their holographic projections revealing nothing.
Zia’s smile widened. She had them. Six against four.
"It seems we have reached consensus," Zia purred, looking directly at Lysara. "The majority of this Council believes Zaeryn Noctis represents an unacceptable threat. I move to have him removed from the Lyceum and placed in indefinite containnt until a permanent solution can be implented."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Zaeryn felt sothing cold settle in his chest, followed imdiately by heat anger, sharp and clarifying. Without thinking, without calculating, he spoke.
"Dream on, Zia." His voice cut through the chamber, firm and unyielding. "That will never happen. I won’t allow it."
The room went silent.
Every eye turned to him.
The silence that followed his outburst wasn’t just quiet. It was heavy, like the air before a lightning strike.
Zia blinked, her smile disappearing for a fraction of a second before returning sharper than before. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her laced fingers.
"Did the specin just speak?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock amusent. "I wasn’t aware we granted speaking rights to containnt subjects."
"I’m not a subject," Zaeryn said, standing up.
Daphne’s hand shot out to grab his wrist, a silent warning to sit down and shut up, but he gently brushed her off. He stepped away from the protective shadow of Lysara’s chair and walked to the edge of the table.
He could feel the Combat Instincts humming in his brain, analyzing the room.
Thorne looked ready to leap over the table and strangle him. Valerius was watching him with intense curiosity. The holographic councilors were flickering as they leaned in.
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