Page 422
Nyra looks toward Caelen. "Were the victims alone?"
"No."
That lands harder.
"Some were with family."
"One with two guards."
"Another inside a shared residence." Silence. Exactly what we feared after Theryn. Being watched means nothing.
"Any dragons?" I ask.
"Reactive."
"How."
"Refused western flight paths."
"Bond disruption?"
"Not reported." Yet.
"Where's Rhyven?" I ask.
Caelen glances toward the stairs. "Still downstairs."
"Why?"
"Because Elarion asked for him." I blink.
"What?"
"Not him specifically." Caelen corrects. "Varethian response protocols." Oh. For several seconds, that doesn't settle properly. Then it does. Varethia. Our Academy. The kingdom that spent weeks reacting too late. The kingdom whose people disappeared. Whose wardkeeper vanished six feet from another person.
Whose dragon was taken from inside active wards. We are now the ones with answers. Not enough. But more. Elarion needs them.
"Council chamber." Caelen says. "All three of you."
Cassian points at himself. "Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Siren trace."
He sits up straighter. "Oh." Then: "Terrible." We go.
The Council chamber is chaos. Real chaos. Not shouting. Worse. Information arriving faster than anyone can use it. Maps cover the main table. Three magical relay crystals glow along one wall. Messages are stacked beneath weighted stones. Professors stand shoulder to shoulder with Council representatives. Two Riders wait near the entrance. One is still wearing flight gear. Mud covers his boots. He looks exhausted.
My father stands near the center. The Headmaster beside him. Professor Vayne. Professor Neris. And Rhyven. Rhyven is bent over a map of southern Elarion. One hand braced against the table. The other marking something beside three settlements. He doesn't look toward us when we enter.
"Report from Meredin." A Council aide says. One of the relay crystals pulses. A woman's voice fills the room. Distorted. Faint. "Third site confirmed."
Everyone quiets. "Magical depletion?" Professor Neris asks.
"Twenty-two percent at center."
