Chapter 55: COUNCIL OF LORDS
The Royal Palace of Aetheria rose like a spire of alabaster and gold against the darkening sky, its ancient wards glimmering with renewed intensity. Reed gazed upon the imposing structure from the back of his midnight steed, whose hooves left smoldering imprints on the cobblestone path. The royal summons had arrived less than eight hours after the confrontation with the transformed Lianna—a crystalline message sphere delivered by a royal courier whose hands trembled as he approached Reed’s domain.
Emergency Council of Lords. Immediate attendance required. By decree of King Thalius IV.
Reed had known the crown would eventually respond to the crisis, but he hadn’t expected it so soon. Intelligence from his remaining scouts suggested that news of the Hero transformations had been ruthlessly suppressed across several domains. Someone at court had ears in places even Reed’s network couldn’t reach.
"They’ll try to execute you the moment you cross the threshold," warned Mordecai, Reed’s most trusted advisor, riding alongside him. The old man’s face was a map of scars and worry lines, deepened by recent events. "The Royal Guard has tripled since your last visit, and I count at least six arcane traps embedded in the approach alone."
Reed nodded silently. The sigils beneath his skin pulsed in response to the nearby magical defenses, his enhanced senses mapping them automatically. Six visible traps, yes—and seventeen more concealed by masterful illusion work. The palace had become a fortress designed specifically to contain someone of his caliber.
"They need me more than they realize," Reed finally replied, urging his mount forward. "And I need them, if only for their resources."
The clock was ticking. Thirty-four hours remained before total system collapse, according to the last notification. In that time, he had to convince a roomful of aristocrats that everything they believed about their world was a lie—and that their own champions were now their greatest threat.
All while the woman he loved drifted further from his reach with each passing hour.
The Grand Council Chamber gleamed with oppressive magnificence. Towering columns of polished obsidian supported a domed ceiling adorned with frescoes depicting the founding of the kingdom. Chandeliers of crystallized magic shed cold light upon the assembled lords and ladies, their finery a riot of color that belied the grim purpose of their gathering.
Reed felt their collective gaze upon him as he entered—some curious, others openly hostile. His transformation had changed more than just his abilities; his physical appearance had become unsettling to those sensitive to magical energies. The sigils that marked his skin pulsed visibly beneath his formal attire, and his eyes now held an unnatural luminescence that intensified when he accessed his powers.
King Thalius IV sat upon the Oblivion Throne—a massive construct of black metal and enchanted gems said to grant its occupant immunity to magical influence. At seventy-three, the king was a withered shadow of his former self, yet his eyes remained sharp as they followed Reed’s progress into the chamber.