Chapter 35: The Offer from the Magistery
The sun rose with quiet defiance.
Its golden rays spilled over the hills as Jean and Whitney emerged from the Hollow Path. The trial was over, but its imprint lingered beneath her skin. Each breath was heavier now—grounded in truth. She no longer feared what lay within.
But the world outside had not grown gentler.
Not even a day passed before the next challenge arrived.
A black-winged falcon descended from the sky, landing with unnatural grace before Jean. Around its leg, bound by violet thread, was a letter—bearing the seven-pointed sigil of the Magistery.
Jean broke the seal.
> *To Jean Luther, Emissary of Light, Heir of the Luther Clan,
You are formally summoned to the Argent Spire by the will of the Matriarch Erin Magus.
Come alone.
Bring your sword—and your intentions.
Time is thinner than you think.
—Ryan Magus*
---
The Argent Spire, headquarters of the Magistery, rose like a needle from the heart of the western mountains. Pure white stone gleamed under the midday sun, surrounded by floating rings of crystal that shimmered with arcane energy.
Jean stepped into its shadow two days later, her presence drawing the gaze of every Sage, scholar, and sentinel.
A Luther, here?
Unheard of.
The grand hall was silent as she entered—its ceiling etched with star maps, its air thick with raw mana. There, waiting beneath the central prism, stood Ryan Magus.
Cloaked in violet and silver, the son of Erin Magus bore the poise of one born to wield magic like breath. His eyes, violet as moonfire, watched her with unreadable calm.
"Jean Luther," he said, smiling faintly. "You look… realer than the stories."
Jean returned his gaze. "Why am I here?"
Ryan gestured to a round table carved of aetherwood. Floating projections displayed dragons soaring across the skies. A massive one, in particular, hovered at the center.
Antares.
"The Dragon Lord stirs," Ryan said. "Your grandfather knows it. My mother knows it. But they're still too busy clinging to old rivalries."
Jean folded her arms. "And what do you want?"
"I want you to break the chain."
---
Erin Magus entered then—regal, composed, her presence as heavy as her magic.
"You are not your clan," she said without preamble. "You are Celeste's sword. The world will not survive if we cling to blood feuds. The Magistery is prepared to offer you an alliance."
Jean blinked. "An alliance?"
"Not with the Luthers," Erin said. "With you."
Ryan continued, "We know about the succession war. About your brother. Your cousin. The Emissary of Light cannot be shackled by a clan tearing itself apart."
Jean narrowed her eyes. "And what would I owe in return?"
Erin raised a hand—and the floating projection changed.
A prison.
Within it, bound by runes, floated something ancient… and familiar.
A dragon heart.
Ryan's voice dropped.
"We found one. Still alive. We can't harness it—but you might."
---
Jean stepped closer, her hand unconsciously brushing Solstice's hilt.
"You're offering me a dragon's heart?"
"Not offering," Erin said. "Tempting. If you ally with us, if you abandon the Luther clan's blood politics… the heart is yours. With it, you may ascend beyond Grand Master—perhaps even reach what Martin Luther once was."
Absolute Master.
Jean's throat tightened.
Temptation burned. Power pulsed behind the offer. But so did risk.
Ryan added softly, "Your path doesn't have to end in your clan's war. What if your destiny lies beyond it?"
Jean turned to face them both. Calm. Cold.
"Then I will decide it myself."
---
As she left the Argent Spire, heart heavy, Whitney padded at her side.
"You okay?" he asked in his gravel-deep growl.
Jean glanced at the horizon, where distant thunder rumbled.
"No," she whispered. "But clarity hurts more than confusion."
---