Page 70 of Sundered By Fate

"You may be a mage of the Silver Tower, but that does not grant you special privileges," the guard said. "The Councilis currently occupied with preparations to carry out the king's command."

"I understand that," Aric said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But this is a matter of great urgency. The safety of the entire kingdom is at stake."

The guard hesitated, studying Aric's face for any signs of deceit. Aric held his gaze steady, refusing to back down. Finally, the guard sighed and nodded to his comrades.

"Very well," he said. "We will escort you to the Council chamber."

As they were led inside, Aric risked a glance at Davin, hoping for some sign of approval or support. But Davin's expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

The corridors of the Silver Tower wound around them like the coils of a giant serpent, every curve and angle carefully designed to maximize its magical potential. Arcane energy pulsed through the walls, a gentle hum that resonated in his bones. It was a familiar sensation, one he'd grown accustomed to during his years of study at the Tower. Yet now it felt . . . different. More potent, more urgent, as though the building itself was straining against some invisible force.

"The high mage is furious," a passing mage was saying to another. "She thinks we're rushing into this without fully understanding the consequences."

"We don't have a choice," the other mage replied. "The army's already on the move with the weapon. We can't afford to fall behind."

Aric's heart sank. So they were moving forward with King Aster's proclamation—and it was even more urgent than he'd feared.

A quick glance at Davin confirmed he'd heard it too. Davin's freckled face was tight with tension, his green-gold eyesnarrowed in thought. Aric wanted to reach out, offer some words of comfort, but the memory of their falling out held him back.

Their guide stopped in front of an ornate door, its surface etched with protective runes that shimmered in the candlelight. "The Council is expecting you," she said, opening the door with a wave of her hand.

Inside, a circular chamber waited, its walls lined with shelves stacked high with dusty tomes and glowing crystals. In the center of the room stood a long table made of dark wood, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen.

At one end of the table sat High Mage Diviandra, her silver hair piled high atop her head like a crown. And beside her was Lorekeeper Sylas, his gaunt face shadowed by the hood of his robes.

"Welcome, Aric Solarian," Diviandra said, her voice cool and measured. "I had wondered whether you might seek an audience. Though I must confess, this is hardly the best time for it."

"Please, High Mage." Aric stepped forward, his voice steady. "I understand the severity of our current situation, but I assure you, what we have to say is equally grave."

Diviandra arched a thin eyebrow, her silver ringlets catching the light. "I'm afraid I must question your judgment on that matter. There's very little that could be worse than our current predicament, Master Solarian."

Aric glanced back at Davin, who nodded subtly in encouragement. "It involves the nature of the weapon recently developed," Aric continued. "The one our forces are already deploying. We have reason to believe it is causing an . . . unintended consequence."

Sylas's eyes sharpened beneath his hood, but Diviandra only sighed. "You mean the anomaly." She turned back to the table, dismissing them with a flick of her hand. "We're alreadyquite aware, Master Solarian. Archmage Thoros has a team investigating as we speak."

"But—" Aric began.

"Your services would be better spent in preparation for the coming campaign," Diviandra continued, not even looking up from her work. "I understand you've been away for some time—but now that you've returned, you can show Astaria you're dedicated and ready to serve."

Aric bit back his frustration. A part of him wanted to shout, to demand they listen; another part wanted to crumple at her feet and beg, a flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

Instead, he merely stepped forward once more, his voice firm and unwavering.

"High Mage Diviandra," he said, each word measured and precise. "Lorekeeper Sylas. You must listen to me."

Diviandra's sigh was long-suffering, as if she'd heard this all before. "Very well. You have five minutes."

Aric nodded. "As you know, the weapon being deployed by our forces has resulted in magical anomalies across the kingdom. These disturbances are not random, but rather correlate directly to the locations and intensity of the weapon's use."

He turned to a map already spread on the table, and highlighted a few points on it, making them glow with a whispered incantation. Brenville, Thornhaven . . . "Each of these represents an instance of heightened magical energy—spells going awry, wards shattering, ley lines shifting out of alignment. And they've only been increasing in frequency and intensity over the past few months."

Diviandra and Sylas exchanged a glance, but neither spoke. Aric pressed on.

"Our investigations in Thornhaven uncovered evidence of wild magic surges that match those reported here in Astariaand other affected areas. Spells going awry, mundane objects becoming sentient, even elemental forces like fire and water behaving unpredictably." Aric swallowed hard, recalling the storm that had nearly consumed them. "It's as if the very fabric of reality is coming unraveled."

Finally Diviandra's stern expression softened slightly, a crack appearing in her unyielding facade. "And you believe this is connected to our weapon?"

Aric nodded. "I do. The more it's used, the worse the anomalies become. I suspect it's drawing on ambient magical energy from the world around it—draining it dry—and in doing so, destabilizing the balance that keeps our reality intact."

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