As the discussion dragged on, the elders switched from praises to complaints, their words weaving together not just opinions on talent but the tangled threads of their own ambitions.
At one moment, the hall was alive with booming laughter; the next, they were at each other's throats. And then, sometimes, silence fell so heavy it seemed to press against the chest.
Just as the noise threatened to boil over again, a new voice cut cleanly across the hall.
The speaker was the youngest among them, Theodore Aurelis, barely past twenty-five. He was known to openly care about Caelrisu like an older brother. And having only just ascended to the rank of elder, he was not yet fully weathered by the weight of politics. His words came without hesitation, clear and steady.
"How about the young lady, Caelrisu?" he asked, his eyes flicking briefly toward the Clan Head before settling on the council. "Her talent may differ from young master Lunaris, who has already glimpsed the Way of Combat… but the young lady's gift is no less rare. She possesses a perfect memory.
Every technique, every stance, every battle style that passes before her eyes can be recalled without flaw. And she does not squander this gift; she tempers it with relentless effort, training until her body has no sweat left to shed. A near-perfect mind in a body honed close to perfection. In fact, I think she is more suitable to be head."
The hall shifted instantly. Faces that had been calm grew taut; others turned away as if suddenly uninterested. A few elders leaned toward their neighbors, voices dropping to whispers that carried silent agreement to Theodore's words.
An elder with silver-streaked hair leaned forward, voice calm, almost indulgent.
"It's not that we don't love her. In fact, everybody does, excluding a few ignorant ones.
So, I won't say I disagree with you. But her ambitions are different; her only goal is to get her revenge, and she would take any path to accomplish it. That's why her eligibility for Clan Head is questionable when she can't maintain the cold-headedness required for it."
Another elder, fingers tapping lightly on the table, let out a soft chuckle with no warmth behind it.
"I will have to agree with you on that. I would say she is more like a blade left lying in the open. Beautiful and sharp, but mishandle it, and it cuts the very hand that dares to pick it up. She would, without a doubt, become Clan's greatest pillar if she grows, but she isn't fit for the position of head."
Polite nods rippled through the chamber before dying, leaving behind a silence heavier than before.
A third voice, smooth, practiced, and carrying the weight of long habit, slipped into that silence.
"And yet… even a wild blade has its uses. In the right hand, it can cut paths no ordinary tool could. Why else do you think we do so much for her?"
"First of all, don't include us with the likes of you," another elder murmured from the far end of the table. "And second, as much as I hate to admit to you, it's true. For the wish to be fulfilled, we will need both of them anyway, brother and sister. One alone cannot reach the end."
"Yes," the silver-haired elder mused softly, his gaze thoughtful. "But who do you think will lead… and who do you think will follow?"
No one answered. The air hung thick, as if the question itself had become a weight pressing down upon the chamber.
Their words hung in the air, soft and careful, yet each one struck with an edge sharper than steel.
At the head of the table, the Clan Head remained silent. His expression betrayed nothing, though in that silence it was impossible to tell whether he was ignoring the undercurrent… or listening to every barb sharpened beneath the words.
'Yap. Yap. Yap. These old fogies truly do nothing but yap. Who are they to decide what to do with my children? I just hope that both of them can help me in the future.'
With that thought, the Clan Head's lips curled ever so slightly, the faintest smile breaking the mask of his stillness.
It was the first shift of expression since the meeting began. Instantly, every gaze in the hall fixed on him.
He rose slightly, voice light, almost indulgent.
"Your words carry weight, as they always have," the Clan Head said softly, eyes sweeping the hall. "But in the end, the course of the clan is like a river; it flows where it must, and no stone, no matter how old or steadfast, can stand against its current forever. Let us not tire ourselves fighting what time itself will decide."
The words seemed harmless, even courteous. Yet as they settled into the air, a ripple of unease passed through the elders. Several glanced sideways, measuring each other in silence.
They all heard what lay beneath the silk.
'Your arguments matter little. The clan's will is mine to shape. And you, old roots grown too deep, would do well to remember when it is time to be gone. Do not force me to cut you down.'
The clan elders slowly dispersed with deep thoughts and clear dissatisfaction.
Immediately, the Clan Head breathed in the fresh cold air of the mountain; how refreshing it felt.
"Forgive me, child. Such is the cruelty of the world."
The Clan Head's voice lingered in the cold air, heavy and unreadable. His gaze, distant and sharp, swept across the elders before he finally let out a quiet sigh.
Then, he closed his eyes for a few minutes, and when he opened them, they were filled with determination.
'A bit more. Just a bit more.'
At that same hour, within the Successor's Palace, Caelivisa Aurelis stood alone before a tall window, her breath fogging against the night's chill. The same cold air pressed against her skin; the same heaviness lingered in her chest.
Her eyes were far away, caught between doubt and hope.
"Will that girl's words truly come to pass…?"
Knock! Knock!
A soft knocking echoed against the heavy silence of the chamber.
Caelivisa turned her head, her senses brushing against the faint presences beyond the door, two small figures, hesitant yet determined.
'Why would they come at such an hour?'
"Mother, may we come in?"
Caelrisu's voice, gentle and nervous, slipped through the door.
"Come in," Caelivisa said.
The door creaked open, and two children stepped into the moonlit room. One with a small lantern in her hand and another with an Old Book. They moved quickly to sit before her, though their expressions betrayed a nervous uncertainty. They stole sideways glances at one another, nudging elbows, whispering without words: You say it. No, you say it.
Caelivisa remained silent, folding her hands in her lap. She let the moment stretch, watching with patient eyes. Fifteen long minutes passed, filled with fidgeting, nudging, and stolen glances, until at last Caelrisu drew a breath and broke the silence.
"Mother… we would like to ask you about the Awakening. Not the basic things that everyone tells us, about cool powers, beautiful world, and what not… but the truth."
The room shifted. Caelivisa's eyes softened, her gaze sharpening with quiet amusement. A small smile tugged at her lips.
"Who told you that?" she asked with a soft smile. "And do you think knowing it tonight will make you stronger by morning?"
Caelrisu straightened in defense. "We may be young, but we are not dumb. Also, Lunaris was the one who forced me."
Lunaris' eyes widened. "What!? Why are you lying!? You wanted to know just as much!"
And so, the chamber that moments before held the stillness of night now rang with the bickering of two children, their whispers escalating into little jabs and protests.
Caelivisa watched them for a moment, her smile deepening, not of mockery, but of a mother who saw through them both.
'It will help them protect themselves from…' Caelivisa thought, the ache in her chest tightening, a flicker of memory brushing her heart before she forced it aside.
Her children were staring at her now, their quarrel frozen mid-word as though they sensed her silence carried something heavier than reproach.
She drew in a slow breath and exhaled, her gaze drifting past them toward the pale moon outside.
"Fine," she said at last, her voice softer than before, yet carrying something that made the children straighten instinctively.
"Let's start."