Chapter 72

I kept myself busy around the keep. Chores helped quiet my mind.

I spent a few hours on the bathhouse, studying the tub, the well, the layout of the walls - trying to imagine pipes and channels that didn’t yet exist. I still had no solution for running water. Buckets and brute **** would have to suffice for now.

I stepped to Reedwatch before noon to make sure the goblins had everything they needed. Grams mentioned a merchant was a week overdue. Her tone was casual, but I could hear the concern beneath it. I promised I’d look into it.

My thoughts had circled back to Elise a dozen times during the day. I’d checked her beacon to ensure it still burned bright. That, at least, gave me a small measure of peace. By dusk I was more than ready to check on her.

I stepped into my demesne, scanned my Faith-scape, and found her silver and gold beacon - steady and bright. I reached for her light and stepped.

There was resistance this time - thick and elastic, like pushing through Jello. I leaned into it, exerting more Will, until something gave with a soft, almost inaudible pop.

The resistance vanished.

Elise sat at a small desk before me, quill gliding across parchment in precise, elegant strokes. The room was lit by a single mana-lantern that cast a soft amber glow, though I could see every detail with clarity.

The walls were charcoal stone, mortared tight, the floor narrow planks of weathered oak, pale and worn smooth. A single window faced the night - likely the eastern side of the building, given the darkness beyond. A simple bed rested against one wall, sheets crisp and immaculate. Opposite it stood the desk. Between them, a plain wooden door and the window, facing one another like silent sentries.

The scratching of the quill stopped. She looked up. Our eyes met.

A small, genuine smile curved her lips. “Lord Grimm,” she said.

I couldn’t remember her ever using my surname before.

“Lady Rosecroft,” I replied, matching her smile.

Color rose delicately to her pale cheeks. She set the quill aside and stood, folding her hands before her in that formal, slightly awkward way of hers.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” I said. “Are they treating you well?”

“We have only recently arrived,” she answered evenly. “My accommodations are adequate. My request for cookies has not yet been fulfilled, but I await patiently.”

I laughed softly. “Make sure you eat something other than cookies. You’re not in your master’s tower anymore. Your body actually needs food now. Real food. Healthy food.”

She tilted her head. “I am aware.”

“So make-”

The door exploded inward.

Two men rushed in - one in red robes, the other in gold - wands already leveled.

I moved without thinking, stepping in front of Elise. Adhaneth in my grip and extended toward them, my stance defensive but ready.

Elise’s hand touched my arm - light, steady.

“Be at ease, Magisters,” she said calmly. “Lord Grimm is an expected guest.”

The man in gold lowered his wand a fraction. “Apologies, Apprentice Rosecroft. The protective wards were breached. We prepared for the worst.”

“Protective wards?” I muttered. “Is that what that was?”

Elise suppressed a smile.

“I should be the one to apologize,” she continued smoothly. “I did not account for the wards. In the future, I will meet Lord Grimm in the courtyard. Thank you for your swift response. Unless you require anything further, you are dismissed.”

The two exchanged uncertain looks, then withdrew, closing the door behind them.

Silence returned.

I exhaled. “Sorry about that.”

“Did you truly not notice the wards?” she asked.

“I noticed… something. Resistance. Like pushing through thick air.” I shrugged. “But I needed to make sure you were safe.”

Her cheeks flushed again - deeper this time.

* * *

Seth did not stay long last night - barely half an hour. His concern, however brief, was appreciated. It is not a sensation I am accustomed to.

Master Edevane taught me discipline. He taught me restraint. He taught me the structure of magic, the architecture of thought, the necessity of order. He provided food, shelter, books, purpose. But concern? I cannot recall him ever expressing it.

For more than fifteen years, I saw no one. Then Seth appeared.

He frightened me - not only because entry to the library had been forbidden by my master, but because of what his presence did to me. When he touched me, heat bloomed beneath my skin. My thoughts scattered. My pulse quickened in ways I could neither catalog nor correct.

He still does this to me.

Even his presence is enough to deprive me of focus. My breath grows shallow. My body becomes aware of itself in ways that feel intrusive and… distracting.

Is this merely biology? Some latent imperative urging reproduction? I have never considered children. Never contemplated a mate. My life was study, preservation, duty.

I am aware that I possess biological urges. On rare occasions, in solitude, I have relieved tension between my thighs - brief stimulation sufficient to quiet the mind and restore clarity.

That no longer suffices.

No amount of self-discipline, nor self-gratification, calms me when Seth is near.

“Apprentice Rosecroft, the Council of Wizards will see you now,” the Adept announced.

I smoothed my dress and walked toward the great double doors of the council chamber.

They rose nearly fifteen feet high, forged of dark starmetal that drank the light around it. Wards etched along their borders shimmered faintly - securing privacy, sanctity, and impenetrable protection. Across the broad surface, Morentis’ history had been carved in flowing Arcanium script - the founding of the Circle, the codification of the thirteen schools, the wars survived and treaties signed. I had read it all once, years ago, tracing each glyph with careful attention.

The doors parted soundlessly before me.

The chamber beyond was vast and solemn. Charcoal stone walls curved upward into shadow - matching the stone found elsewhere within the tower. A raised, semicircular dais of dark wood dominated the far end of the hall, and upon it stood thirteen thrones - each elevated even more above their base. Before every throne stood a built-in bench of the same wood as the dais, allowing each Master to lean, rest their hands, or loom as they pleased. Behind them hung banners in the colors of their respective schools, sigils embroidered in thread that caught the magical lantern light.

The floor was a single expanse of polished stone inlaid with concentric rings of silver. Thirteen silver lines crossed at the center like the spokes of a wagon wheel, converging upon the mosaic of Morentis’ coat of arms.

Midnight blue formed the shield’s field. At its heart lay a silver arcane circle inscribed with the sigils of all thirteen schools. At the center of that circle, an open book emitted a burst of golden light. Beneath the shield unfurled a scroll bearing the kingdom’s motto in elegant Arcanium.

From darkness, enlightenment.

All thirteen Masters were present. Some I recognized. Others had taken their seats since my last visit seventeen years ago.

I stepped to the center of the mosaic and stood where expected.

“Apprentice Rosecroft,” said the wizard seated before the golden banner of Axiomancy. His robes matched it perfectly. “On behalf of the Council, we extend our deepest condolences for the passing of Master Edevane. It was an unforgivable oversight that we did not bring word nor check upon your wellbeing sooner. We apologize. Further, we offer you room and board within this arcane tower in perpetuity.”

The words settled heavily within me.

If the full Council believed my master dead, then it must be so.

Was I grieving? The question felt clinical. I would miss his instruction. His discipline. The quiet certainty of his presence in the tower. His loss diminished Morentis and the world.

“Thank you, Master Nightwell,” I replied evenly. “Your generosity honors me. However, I must decline. My duty remains with Master Edevane’s library.”

“Girl, are you still residing within that tower?” demanded the Master in green robes of Vitalis. “I was told it was destroyed.”

“No, Master Wolfendale,” I answered. “At Master Slatemourn’s recommendation, I relocated the library to a more secure location.”

“And where,” pressed Slatemourn, his purple robes gleaming beneath the lantern light, “might that be?”

“In the demesne of Seth Grimm.”

A stir rippled through the chamber.

“I do not believe that prudent-,” Slatemourn began.

“That is not your decision,” Master Nightwell interrupted sharply. “Master Edevane left no heirs. By law, his holdings pass to Apprentice Rosecroft. The contents of that library are hers to steward.”

Slatemourn’s jaw tightened, but he fell silent.

“If we may return to the matter at hand,” Master Crowhurst said calmly from beneath the black banner of Malefic. “We have reviewed your report regarding the events at Lake Blackward. We require clarification.”

I inclined my head.

“Are you certain what you witnessed was a Myrddin?” asked a Master I did not recognize, seated beneath white banner of Void.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I observed the infection manifest within the god killer known as Brand. He was dead and yet… not. I also witnessed the Myrddin that escaped the Interstitium before the rift was sealed. There is no mistaking such a horror.”

“And this goblin healer closed the rift?” asked Wolfendale.

“Yes. Her aptitude is not limited to Vitalis alone. I can vouch for the strength of her mana. It rivals your own.”

Muted discussion broke out before Nightwell restored order.

“Your report also indicates that Yveth, goddess of sorrow that does not fade, arrived,” Nightwell said. “Are you confident of her identity?”

“That was the name she bore,” I replied. “Seth informed me he had encountered her previously. I had no cause to doubt her.”

“And Seth Grimm entered the rift?” Crowhurst asked.

“He was seized by the Myrddin as he attempted to prevent further incursion. The rift closed shortly thereafter.”

“You assert,” said the wizard in the orange robes of Entropy, “that this fledgling god survived contact with the Myrddin, returned from the Interstitium, and slew one?”

“Yes, Master Graveholt.”

“And he is unchanged?”

“I have observed him closely for ten days. I detect no physical, mental, or arcane corruption.”

The chamber grew very quiet.

“Apprentice Rosecroft,” said the wizard beneath the indigo banner of Umbrance, “the Council would entrust you with a matter of utmost importance.”

I inclined my head. “What does the council wish of me, Master Rookhaven?”

“Seth Grimm is an unknown quantity. To defeat even one Myrddin demonstrates extraordinary power. To survive direct exposure unaltered is… unheard of. We must consider the possibility of latent infection.”

I wanted to speak up, but knew interrupting a council member was unacceptable.

“A power such as his,” Rookhaven continued, “if compromised, would endanger not merely Morentis, but the world. We ask that you watch over him. Observe him. Report his actions, his associations, any deviation in temperament or behavior. You are to do so without informing him. If he suspects scrutiny, he may conceal signs of corruption. If he trusts you, you will see his true self.”

“Through your eyes, we will judge his fitness and ensure he is not a danger to himself or others. Is this something you can do, Apprentice?” Rookhaven concluded. “Morentis - and perhaps the world - depends upon your vigilance.”

The request made me uncomfortable. It felt like a breach of trust.

Yet their reasoning was not without merit. Survival of contact with Myrddin was unheard of. If Seth were compromised - even unknowingly - the consequences would be catastrophic. He might attempt to release those horrors upon the world.

I would prefer to remain within the library. To fulfill the duty my master assigned me. But Master Edevane is dead. This duty is greater. I was not confident in my ability to deceive, but maybe I could avoid that. I only needed to report what I saw and heard, and Seth seemed to confide in me already.

If my reports put the council at ease to know he was unchanged, they may be dissuaded from taking rash action against Seth. Binding him. Destroying him.

I would not allow harm to come to him through misunderstanding.

“I agree,” I told the council.