Page 17 of Owned

Our footsteps echoed as we descended to the stone chamber below, and I relished the prickle of my magic against my palms as we entered the hidden meeting place.

I wasn’t afraid of what awaited us, but the stakes were high.

They always were with Lucian.

Our father was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. His guards were nowhere to be seen.

“Stop dragging your feet,” Lucian snapped.

“Sorry, father,” Bastian said with a grin as he stepped past me. “Got caught amid the gravestones—there was a particularlygorgeous young lady mourning her newly dead husband up there—I was thinking about staying behind to comfort her…”

He was trying to be funny, but Valen pushed him sharply to shut him up.

Lucian’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t smile.

“Get on with it,” Valen hissed.

Bastian shrugged and walked ahead with Valen.

“Lock it up,” Lucian growled, and then shook his head and followed them.

Lock the doors? That wasn’t normal. No one would disturb us here.

Bastian might have joked about a funeral happening in the cemetery, but no one came here…

I summoned my magic to close the tomb behind us and as the heavy stone scraped into place, I strode down the corridor after them.

We entered to find the Council gathered—a suffocating crowd of familiar faces packed into the center of an imposing stone chamber where torches flickered against the darkness.

Cloaked figures lined the walls, their hoods drawn low over ever-watchful eyes. Lucian’s loyal Necromi stood in silent ranks, their presence as oppressive as the flickering, dim light from blackened torches. The elders stood out, seated or hunched over their canes, muttering among themselves. The younger ones—a splinter faction that had gained alarming influence—stood behind. Some of them had thrown back their hoods, and their eyes glittered with dark intent in the torchlight. New recruits. Fanatics with no experience at hiding in the shadows.

A massive obsidian table surrounded with blackwood chairs stood in the center of the room, overpowering everything else. Torchlight flickered off the polished surface in shuddering ripples before it was absorbed into its darkness.

The air in the room was muffled and strange, and I straightened my shoulders as I entered the space. The hushed whispers rose briefly and then died away as Lucian strode forward, a pale wraith in the gloom.

His hair glowed like a ghostly halo around his head, and his long, graceful fingers brushed the table’s raw stone edge as he claimed the seat at its head. There was a fluidity in his movements—a confidence that demanded attention and unwavering obedience. The room seemed to contract in his presence, and the cloaked figures leaned forward like candle flames.

The chamber’s chill seeped into my skin, but the magic that swirled in my veins kept it from penetrating too far. Just enough to keep me on edge. Nervous energy rippled through the gathered members of the Black Council as the silence stretched thin.

Then Lucian’s voice cut sharply through the hush, smooth and deliberate: “We purge the disloyal— Until naught remains.”

Muted shock ricocheted through the room and I glanced at my brothers, reading the tension in their set jaws and narrowed eyes.

Valen’s hand twitched uncomfortably at his side, and though Bastian wore a mask of detachment, I could tense the tightly coiled energy within him and the black smoke of his magic that twisted around his fingers. Ready to strike.

What was Lucian doing?

Lucian’s fingers drummed a slow, measured rhythm on the table as he continued, “Some among us have forgotten their oaths. Tonight, they shall be reminded.”

The Necromi remained motionless—petrified by fear or bound by loyalty?

Lucian’s pale eyes turned to us, and under his intense gaze, I felt an unmistakable pressure to comply with whatever he might ask. This was a test for us, too.It always was.

Lucian’s gaze swept over the gathered figures as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“Doubt festers like a wound, does it not? We must cut away the dead flesh and burn out the rot.” The chamber seemed to press in on us as the shadows drew nearer. A familiar heat of anger kindled in my chest, an unwelcome ally in moments like these.

“We begin with the weakest,” Lucian pronounced. “The rest will follow.” Those final words echoed ominously, a death knell for anyone foolish enough to defy him.

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