Chapter 44: Shadows in the Magistery
Far from the mountain peaks of the Luther Clan, deep within the arcane marble towers of the Magistery, the air shimmered with latent magic. The grand spires of the Magus Sanctum glowed under the pale moons, their mirrored domes pulsing like beating hearts in the night.
At the highest floor of the Astral Archive, Erin Magus, Matriarch of the Magus Family, watched the flames flicker in a levitating crystal brazier. Her face, ageless and flawless, was drawn tight in thought. Shadows danced behind her robes like sentient smoke.
Her son, Ryan Magus, knelt on one knee before her. The heir to the Magistery wore a long silver coat lined with starlight runes and bore a staff carved from a dragonbone shard.
"She's awakened the blade," Erin said softly.
"Yes, Mother. The Luther girl now wields Eclipsion," Ryan confirmed. "It happened after she passed the Catacomb Trial. Duke Erich has already fallen."
The crystal fire flared.
Erin's gaze darkened. "The flames that once wounded Antares now burn anew."
Ryan looked up, curious. "Should we move against her?"
Erin shook her head. "Not yet. The world will turn against her in time. But the blade cannot be allowed to reach its full potential. It belongs to none of them—not to Jean Luther, not to Charles, not even to that ghost Martin left behind."
Ryan lowered his eyes.
"There are whispers in the deep crypts," Erin continued. "The spell-seals around the Vault of the First Spell are weakening."
Ryan tensed. "The Vault has remained untouched for a thousand years."
"And yet now," Erin said coldly, "its wards unravel. Just as the dragons stir… and just as she rises."
Erin stepped closer to a black mirror beside the brazier. Within its depths shimmered a vision of the future—dragons razing cities, Jean Luther standing at the center of a battlefield with Eclipsion glowing like a dying sun.
"If the gods plan to crown her their champion," Erin whispered, "then we will shatter the crown before it settles on her head."
She raised her hand.
From the shadows emerged Vaelros the Hollow, leader of the Shadow Guild—face hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask, aura as cold as void.
"You called," he rasped.
"Begin the hunt," Erin said. "Destabilize the Luther Clan from within. Let the Luther siblings bleed each other dry."
Vaelros bowed, then vanished into the darkness.
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Meanwhile, in the Luther stronghold, Jean stood atop the northern watchtower, the winds of dusk tugging at her white hair. Whitney lay beside her, ears alert, nose twitching toward the horizon.
Behind her, Silvia approached again, this time silent.
Jean spoke without turning. "I felt something. A shift in the wind."
Silvia's voice was grim. "It's not the wind. It's magic."
Jean turned to her sister. "The Magistery."
Silvia nodded.
"The war you're meant to fight isn't waiting for you," she said. "It's already begun."
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