The Storm Tower | Vol.4, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

2.

When Sebastian was a child, he used to hate the black, double doors that hid the contents of the Eldenarian council room. He remembered standing beyond them as his father disappeared behind them, loathing the sight of those wretched, black doors. They stole his father from him; the man drowned himself in his work—in the council—until he lost sight of his own family.

Sebastian still remembered The Marking ceremony and how the council members whisked Makaela away after she passed out while receiving her mark. No one knew what happened beyond those doors beside her and the seven members of the council.

To this day, he had never been inside. He never wanted to.

Now he was standing in front of those looming, black doors. The shimmering, golden handles—designed to look like the heads of gryphons—peered back at him, urging him to pull them so he could slip inside the cavernous room.

He wanted to open them. He wanted to join the others inside and begin the meeting.

But he couldn't.

The longer he stared at those tall, stretching, black doors, the higher his anger rose. It swirled within his chest like thick smoke, suffocating him from within. Memories of all the times his father left him beyond the walls of the council room flooded his head. The cold pats on the back. The dead look in his dark eyes. The empty promises.

He remembered it all.

His father's responsibilities as head of House Tenebris and the Eldenarian Council stole his childhood from him. He didn't get the luxury of a normal upbringing like his peers. They got to live without the immense pressure he carried on his shoulders; their parents actually raised them instead of the murderous casters who acted as his babysitters.

Inhaling deeply, he gripped the cold handles of the doors. With a long exhale, he pushed them open.

Torches in metal fixtures burning with orange fire hung on the slightly curved walls. Banners of various colors, each belonging to a different house, hung from the rafters. Statues of past council members populated the black-and-white checkered floors.

Sitting in the center of the dimly lit room was the council room table—a long, black table with a single, orb of pulsing eldricite the size of a watermelon sat in the center. Seven chairs, with one at the head, surrounded the dark piece of furniture. All the seats were taken except for one.

Olivier Moreau—Remy's father and the head of House Lumai—was sat at the front of the table. Imogen, Ajax, Chieftain Naidini, and Siren took up the remaining seats. Every set of eyes in the room were bloodshot—likely from tiredness or tears.

In some of their cases, it might have been both.

Sebastian could relate. But the time for sleep and crying would have to wait. They needed to have this meeting.

After the events of the battle in Vashara, the Eldenarian Council was left even more fractured than it already was. Half the members were either killed, missing, or allied with the Order of the Black Lotus, leaving them to field a makeshift roster of council members to hold meetings surrounding the magician community.

Currently, Olivier served as head of the council. After all, he was the heir to the seat of House Lumai; and it was like there was anyone else to oppose him. Sure, magicians within the palace grumbled their disapproval of the decision but no one dared to argue now.

Politics could wait. It was time to stick together now.

Sebastian took the chair between Ajax and Naidini. All eyes were on him as they waited for him to speak. He stood up again and cleared his throat awkwardly.