Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
THE COUNCIL
Whispers are dangerous.
Rumors, even more so.
But belief—belief is poison.
And belief is spreading.
The Council chambers are carved from ancient stone and older power, lined with relics no one dares touch. They used to command reverence just by existing.
Now… the walls echo with too much noise.
“She’s already destabilized the Veil,” Councilor Rennic snaps, silver-ringed fingers tapping an angry rhythm against the armrest. “We cannot afford another outburst.”
“And we cannot afford a martyr,” Councilor Vemir responds icily. “Have you seen the student networks? The curated scrolls? Do you know what they’re calling her?”
There’s silence.
Then, from the shadows Councilor Welsh steps forward. “The Bound Blood.”
The words hang heavy. A symbol. A rallying cry.
“She’s behind wards now. There is nothing they can do. She’s contained. Controlled.” Rennic tries to sound confident. He fails.
“She is protected, not controlled,” Vemir corrects. “And every move we make in secret is being broadcast before we’ve finished making it. Someone is leaking information.”
A deeper silence follows.
“There’s talk of a student walkout,” a third voice murmurs from the far end of the table. “Riot disguised as protest. And she doesn’t even need to speak for it to happen.”
“She doesn’t need to do anything,” Rennic growls. “That’s the danger. Her silence speaks louder than our orders.”
More eyes turn toward the central dais.
Toward the empty seat at the head of the room.
Not empty by chance.
Empty by design.
“She must be bound tonight,” the High Seat says at last, voice low and final. “Whether it’s clean or not.”
Vemir stiffens. “If we act without sanction, we risk exposure.”
“If we don’t act, we lose control.” The High Seat’s tone leaves no room for debate. “Find the leak. Tighten the ranks. Silence the noise.”
Outside the walls of the chamber, bells chime the hour. It sounds like a warning. Because belief is poison.
And Lindsay Blake is already becoming a legend.