Shadow of the First Sin

The hallways were empty and unnaturally quiet; only the sound of our footsteps echoed around us. Lyra walked ahead, and I followed closely behind.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, surprised by the silence.

“They are in their dorms or out in town. It’s rare for all five councilors to share the same room. The last time it happened was at the yearly conference a few months back, and half of the western wing got destroyed,” Lyra explained in a serious tone.

“Why?” I blurted out.

“Councilors epitomize the finest among us, entrusted with the responsibility of making decisions that promote the welfare of all western realms. Each one comes from different parts of Vixen’s Veil and has their own ideas and morals about what the land they govern should resemble. When you put five of the most influential beings in one room, trouble is bound to happen.”

“Tell me about this council.”

“You’ve already met Miss Lilith of the Veilsong family. Onyx comes from the Stonemaw family, a line of earth mages. They own a large percentage of mines in the Freehold and are the only family with stable relationships with the dwarves. Luna Seamist isn’t from one of the noble houses; she’s from a long line of pirates who made their wealth by salvaging shipwrecks. Almost all the ports in Eldoria are owned by her family, and she is a water mage. Blythe of the Galemont family is a lightning mage. She probably has the shortest temper out of all the councilors, so tread carefully around her. Most of the damage at last year’s conference came from her,” Lyra warned.

“And what about the fifth one?”

“Theros of the Ashencrest family,” she said the name solemnly, with a mix of fear and respect.

“Anything else? No fun fact about this one?”

“Ashencrest is one of the founding families of Vixengaard, the only one that stood the test of time, growing more powerful through the ages. They say dragon blood flows through their veins and that they have a fire blessing from the ancient dragon Pyrath, Lord of the Flame,” Lyra explained, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“Sounds like a pleasant bunch,” I sighed, already dreading the disaster this meeting was bound to be.

Finally, we stopped before a wall with the number 0 embedded into it. This wall differed from the rest; instead of a blank surface, it had a door resembling a mirror painted on it, adorned with ornate floral designs.

Lyra seemed on edge, nervously fidgeting with the red strands of her hair and smoothing the fabric of her blue dress. She paced in circles before turning her attention to me. Tightening the tie around my neck and brushing invisible dust off my shoulders, she meticulously cleaned my entire suit, from my chest piece and sides to my pants.

“Hey, mind your hands down there!” I teased, glancing at my lower parts.

“You’re such an idiot!” she smiled, giving my shoulder one last brush and straightening my tie again before saying, “Shall we?”

With a nod, she spoke an enchantment, and we passed through the wall, emerging into a room with a large round table surrounded by both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Silas stood at the edge of the table with Forleen at his side. Orion sat at the table with Fabian behind him. To my surprise, Orion cleaned up nicely. His long white hair, no longer resembling a lion’s mane, was neatly braided, and his beard was slightly trimmed. He wore a white suit with a golden tie and brown leather shoes.

“You clean up nice,” I remarked.

“As do you, kid,” he smirked.

The round table had ten seats, and five of them were occupied. Orion took one, Lilith sat across from him, and then three more people were next to her. A towering man with short brown hair, almost as big as Orion, wore simple clothes—a tight black shirt with short sleeves, a golden earring on his left ear, and a tattoo of a snake wrapping around his forearm, maw open wide as it bared its fangs. You’d never guess he was a mage; he looked more like a street thug, as the person next to him pointed out.

“Onyx?” she asked.

“What?” the man answered.

“How come even these bums are dressed better than you?” she said, clearly referring to us.

“You’re one to talk, Blythe, when you’re wrapped up in bed sheets!” Onyx teased.

“Oh, now you’re asking for it!” Blythe grinned from ear to ear, like a wild beast.

She had long, ashen-gray hair, woven over her shoulder into a braid that she stroked like one would a cat. A silver headband or tiara sat atop her forehead, with a blue gemstone embedded in it. Her attire differed from the rest, consisting of various blue fabrics wrapped around her like bandages. Much of her golden-brown skin was exposed, especially her back, which bore many scars.

As Onyx and Blythe continued to bicker like children, I observed the woman next to them. Her striking blue hair reminded me of Sylva, the queen of the fey. A black blindfold with golden ornamental stitching covered her eyes as she sat in a dignified manner with her fingers crossed. Her head was pointed toward me, but I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me or not; she was as still as a porcelain doll.

“Should I sit?” I turned to Lyra for advice.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I took a seat beside Orion, and immediately after, Lyra positioned herself behind me like a guardian, mirroring Fabian’s stance behind Orion. Silas was waving his hand at me and grinning like an idiot until Forleen kicked him, making him stand up straight and lose the smile.

“Why isn’t he at the table with us?” I asked Lyra, who was nervously tapping her foot behind me.

“Only those officially invited to the council can sit at the table and speak freely. Those outside the table speak only when prompted.”

So, they invited only Orion and me to join this meeting. Interesting. I wondered what they had planned for us. Suddenly, a voice pulled me from my thoughts into reality.

“All hail the blood of Pyrath, Lord of the Flame! From the family that founded Vixengaard, Theros Ashencrest!”

Every figure at the table stood up, except Orion and me. Lyra yanked my ear with all her might as a sign for me to stand up, and so I did. Orion followed suit.

An old man dressed in red robes walked into the room. He had long white hair and a beard, and his eyes were a striking red. Aside from his eyes, he looked like any other old man you might see in the streets.

“You may sit, my children,” he said in a joyful but authoritative voice as he took the seat furthest from everyone.