Magnus & Delyra
Magnus stood at the edge of the council chamber, hands clasped behind his back, watching the glyphlight ripple across the ceiling like a storm trying not to break. The Archive had pulsed three times in the last hour. Not in warning. In confirmation.
The decision had been made.
And it hadn’t come from them.
The council sat in silence. Twelve seats. Eleven filled. One empty—the seat reserved for the Archive’s voice. Mira had never sat there. But her glyphs had.
Magnus didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The walls were already speaking for him. Glyphs rearranged themselves midair, forming a single phrase that hovered above the table:
“The echo has chosen.”
Delyra watched from the far end, her fingers tracing the edge of her blade—not in threat, but in ritual. She had seen
