The Council Chamber did not breathe the way the rest of Aethelberg did.
If the city inhaled the sea and exhaled ambition, this hall inhaled power and exhaled pressure.
It pressed down on everyone within it.
Invisible.
Unyielding.
Elias felt it the moment he stepped fully into the chamber behind his father. It wasn't fear. Not exactly. It was… density. Like the air itself carried weight, thickened by the presence of fifteen individuals who could decide the fate of an entire kingdom with a single vote.
Alaric did not slow.
He walked forward with measured steps, his expression calm, almost amused, as though he had not just interrupted a room full of people already sharpening their arguments against him.
Then—unexpectedly—
He stopped beside his seat.
And turned.
"Sit," he said.
Elias blinked. Then, he stepped forward and took the seat marked with the black falcon of House Dukker, settling into it with the same quiet composure he carried everywhere else.
Alaric placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"This is my son," he said, his voice carrying easily across the chamber.
"Elias Linford Dukker. He will take my seat today."
The message was clear. Alaric had announced his heir.
A ripple moved through the chamber. Some raised eyebrows. Others exchanged glances. A few—a very few—nodded as if this were only proper. But now all eyes, be they benevolent or malicious, shifted—no longer just on Alaric, but on Elias.
Behind him, near the back of the chamber, Jamie stood beside Gyan among the aides and assistants. She had wanted to step forward— walk over and sit beside Elias like she always did, like this was just another day in Blackhaven.
Then she stopped herself.
Her shoulders straightened.
Her posture changed.
Her arms were crossed.
The lightness drained from her expression, replaced by something colder. Sharper. Her usual restless energy compressed into something contained, deliberate.
The shift was subtle—barely perceptible to anyone who did not know her. But Elias noticed.He had seen how she behaved toward Aina and anyone else who wasn't him or a known adult. He knew the difference between Jamie at rest and Jamie at war.
This was Jamie at war.
The Synesthesia had come from the Node.
A month of fighting beasts that wanted to kill them—not out of malice, but out of hunger—had sharpened something in both of them. They could feel it now. The intent of others. The weight beneath the words. The hunger beneath the smiles. The lords were watching, Elias could feel it.
Some were curious—their intent was light, probing, like fingers testing a fruit for ripeness. Some were acknowledging—like a gust of wind that carried no weight.
Others were worse.
Darker.
Their intent was heavy.
Greasy.
It clung to the skin like oil. Intent that lingered too long, pressed too hard. Like hands reaching, out to strangle you dead. They were not looking at Elias and Jamie as children. They were looking at them as leverage. As hostages. As pieces to be moved on a board they had not asked to join.
Elias's fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.
'Stale.'
That was what they had called it in the forest.
The feeling predators gave off when they weren't hunting out of hunger—but out of habit.
Out of something rotten.
He didn't like it but he didn't react. For his father's sake, he kept his face still.
Jamie, however—
"…creepy," she muttered under her breath.
Gyan's eyes flicked toward her.
Jamie didn't stop.
"I don't like the way they're looking at us."
And then—
She pushed back.
It was not Presence. She was not a Saint. She was not powerful enough to crush the room with the weight of her soul. This was something else—something she and Elias had learned from the beasts of the Iron Forest.
Predators did not simply attack. They announced. They threw their intent like a net, paralyzing prey before they ever moved a muscle. It was fear made tangible. It was the promise of violence, delivered before the first blow. And unlike Presence, it didn't matter whether your soul was weak or strong. What mattered was how strong your emotions were. Jamie at this time might have been the most annoyed person in the room.
Her intent washed across the chamber.
Several of the lords stiffened.
A dark-skinned woman in emerald robes paused mid-breath, her fingers tightening against her armrest. A pale man with slicked-back silver hair shuddered then tilted his head, eyes narrowing. One other—a man with sharp features and colder eyes—flinched before catching himself.
It lasted only a moment.
But it was enough.
Enough to break the rhythm.
Enough to make them feel something they weren't used to feeling...
Like Prey.
Elias raised his hand behind his father's chair and made a small gesture.
Stop.
Jamie didn't.
Her gaze locked onto one man in particular.
Kingsley Amberose.
He was still speaking.
"…and beyond that, his conduct raises serious concerns," Amberose continued, voice smooth but edged.
"He even brought in an orphan alongside his own child thinking he could garner sympathy from this esteemed council. I personally feel sorry for the girl, being used by a grown man as a plaything for his child only to be discarded—."
His voice was smooth, practiced, the voice of a man who had spent decades learning to sound reasonable while saying unreasonable things.
Jamie did not care about his words. She cared about his intent.
It was the worst of them. Greasy. Cloying. The intent of a man who saw people not as people but as obstacles to be removed or tools to be used. He was looking at Elias now, his smile pleasant, his eyes—not.
Jamie's intent sharpened.
Amberose's words continued. But something changed.
He faltered. Just slightly, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.
He continued anyway.
"…this is not merely negligence—it is a potential threat to the stability of the realm—"
His words stumbled. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, though the chamber was not warm. By now, his words had lost all smoothness.
She followed Jamie's gaze, saw the direction of her intent, and tapped the girl's shoulder.
"Enough."
Jamie did not stop.
"Enough," Gyan said again, her voice low but firm.
Jamie clicked her tongue but pulled back. The pressure vanished.
Amberose inhaled sharply.
And immediately seized the moment.
"Lord Dukker!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat.
"Is this your strategy? To bring children into this chamber to intimidate your peers? To disrupt proceedings and prevent rightful inquiry?"
A few murmurs of agreement followed.
Alaric tilted his head slightly.
"Is that what happened?" he asked mildly.
"I thought all of you were so excited to see me that you suddenly got feverish."
Amberose's eyes flashed.
"You would hide behind ignorance now?"
"Hmm..." Alaric said, folding his arms and rubbing his chin.
"Lets assume, for the sake of arguement, that this young girl, who is more inexperienced than those among you who have awakened or have a few aritfacts for protection, did somehow manage to affect you with this, imaginary effect yeah?" He said calmly.
"You are a Votary, are you not?"
Amberose stiffened.
''Surely someone of your stature would not be so… affected."
A few chuckles rippled through the chamber.
Not loud.
But enough.
Amberose's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth—
The Speaker struck her gavel.
"Enough."
The elderly woman's voice cut cleanly through the tension.
"This is not the matter scheduled for today."
Her sharp gaze settled on Alaric.
"Lord Dukker. You were summoned for failure to respond to Council directives and for leaving your territory without official leave."
Alaric inclined his head.
"I had pressing circumstances—"
"That is not an excuse."
The voice came from a broad-shouldered man in steel-blue robes—Gide Baiden—his skin weathered, his presence steady like a storm-tested ship.
Murmurs of agreement spread through the chamber.
Alaric's jaw tightened.
"There are pending matters that required your input." Gide said smoothly.
"Your absence has delayed proceedings. One might interpret that as disregard for collective governance." Rivas Oberoi, regal in purple added, giving a small, polite smile.
Elias's gaze flicked between them.
'They're piling on.'
One after another.
Layering pressure.
Not individually aggressive—but collectively overwhelming.
Before he could respond—
A hand rose lazily. The chamber went silent.
"I think," Ortis said with a yawn, "we should talk about Alaric another day."
His head had been resting on the desk moments ago, half-lidded eyes betraying disinterest. Now he rested his chin on his arms folded on the table.
A lord, Ki Lin Feng scoffed.
"On what grounds?"
Ortis didn't even look at her.
"We had other matters scheduled today," he said.
"Some people insisted we wait for Alaric. He's here. So let's deal with what we were supposed to deal with."
Another voice—sharp, irritated—cut in.
"Are you saying you don't care that he's been abusing his authority?" Baiden asked.
Ortis blinked slowly.
Then shrugged.
"No."
Baiden blinked.
"I do it all the time," he added casually. "Feels weird to complain about it now."
Baiden's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again—.
Ortis glanced at him, his emerald eyes catching the light of the chandelier above.
The man froze completely.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Guards along the walls tightened their grips on their weapons.
Then—
Ortis leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.
"Let's just follow due process," he said. "Deal with Alaric tomorrow."
He stifled another yawn.
"I agree."
All eyes turned to Lord Vaughn.
She was petite woman, pale-skinned, appearing barely in her twenties, seated with one leg crossed over the other, a book resting lazily in her hand. Her auburn hair fell neatly around her shoulders, her expression distant—bored. She wore an obsidian black robe, the colors Noctis Vale, and she had not looked up from her book once during the proceedings.
She looked up now.
She turned a page then glanced up.
"That seems reasonable."
Ortis raised a hand in a lazy thumbs-up.
"Thanks Wendy."
The chamber was silent.
Two Paragons had spoken. There was nothing more to say.
"…Very well."
She struck her gavel.
"We will proceed with the original agenda. Lord Dukker's matters will be addressed tomorrow."
The tension shifted.
Not gone.
But redirected.
Amberose's expression darkened.
Alaric smiled faintly.
Elias's gaze lingered on Wendy Vaughn.
She was not what he had expected. He had imagined someone older, more imposing, more present. Instead, she was small and quiet and utterly unremarkable—until you looked at her eyes.
There was something behind them. Something vast and cold and patient.
She turned her head.
Her gaze met his.
A chill ran down Elias's spine. It was not the chill of fear—it was the chill of recognition. She was looking at him the way he looked at a problem he had not yet solved.
Then she smiled.
Soft.
Sweet.
Completely at odds with the feeling she gave off.
Elias didn't move.
Jamie noticed too, her eyes narrowed slightly.