LV
The two eleven‑blood scientists entered like a cold draft—clinical, efficient, and utterly unaware of how their words scraped against your nerves. Their white lab coats looked stark against the warm wood of the council chamber, and the soul‑mirror sat on a raised dais between them like a specimen instead of a nightmare.
The taller scientist adjusted a projector, slides flickering to life behind him. The rounder one hovered near the dais, instruments clicking softly as he measured the mirror's pulse, its resonance, its weakening aura.
The hat man stirred faintly inside it.
"Most respected madams et monsieurs of the European council," the taller scientist began, his voice smooth and practiced. "We have made several breakthroughs in studying the energy of this object and its contents."He gestured to the mirror.
The rounder scientist didn't look up from his readings. "The entity inside is losing power, but not at a predictable rate. It is… volatile."
The taller one continued, clicking to the next slide—charts, diagrams, spectral readings.
"We suggest that if further scientific study cannot be made due to the entity's hostility or instability, then the being inside can be effectively tethered to a weaker species."
A murmur rippled through the council.
Lorian stiffened beside me.
Their logic was so cold and clinical. It was horrifying.
"The size of the species," the scientist said, "is directly proportional to several factors: intelligence, magical capacity, and the ability to bind."
He clicked again. A chart appeared showing silhouettes of various animals.
"A larger or more intelligent species would make the hat‑man too powerful for the tethering to catch, and the binding to work."
The rounder scientist finally looked up, his expression grave.
"We absolutely cannot bind him to another human body. He is too malevolent and would wreak havoc."
Lorian's father nodded once. "Correct."
The taller scientist continued, unfazed by the tension building in the room.
"We suggest something like a small canine, or a feline. A body easily handled and disposed of." He would be a tool to be a disposable weapon, a thing. The horror grew.
The scientist clicked again.
"Smaller beings would also be more portable, increasing our ability to transport him to—"
Lorian slammed his hand on the table. The sound cracked through the chamber like thunder.
"Enough. This is revolting. You mean to use living soul energy to feed this thing. You think it's alright just because it won't be of a person?"
The scientists froze.
The council members looked up sharply.
Lorian's voice was low, dangerous. "You are talking about binding a soul‑devouring entity to a living creature. A pet. A disposable pet."
The taller scientist swallowed. "It is the safest option. A small vessel would limit his power. Keep him manageable."
"And who," Lorian asked, "is expected to manage him."
All eyes turned to me. The mirror pulsed in your hands.
A faint whisper curled through your mind.
"Princess…I would be your pet, please. I could be gentle…
If you free me…"
The Council's interest was immediate.
The rose‑gold‑haired woman leaned forward. "A small vessel would allow the keeper to control him. Feed him. Transport him. Contain him."
Another representative nodded. "It would prevent the entity's energy starvation and prevent him from draining the young woman's spirit."
A third added, "And it would give us a deterrent against other supernatural threats. It is a viable option."
Lorian's father spoke quietly, but his voice carried authority.
"We must consider the ethics. The danger. The long‑term consequences."
But the council's eyes were already alight with calculation.
They would contain the monster in a bottle of flesh and bone,
A weapon on a literal leash. A monstrous creature bound to a small, fragile body.
And I, as the only person he recognized, as the handler.
They debated for hours, only stopping for tea. They decided it would be the safest option. If they banished the hat-man to the void the results would be unpredictable. If they let the hat man starve and fade, he couldn't be a deterrent to others. This solution would be the most convenient.