Chapter Twenty–Nine
The hall held its breath.
The two hearts pulsed faintly upon the altar–one golden, one crimson–casting long, trembling shadows across the marble floor. The silence was so complete that even the faint hum of the preservation seals could be heard.
Adrian stepped forward, calm but resolute. His eyes flicked once toward Elder Vaughn, who gave a brief, firm nod. The crowd leaned in, a thousand breaths drawn tight in anticipation.
He reached out slowly, steady as if measuring every movement against the weight of history.
When his palm finally hovered over the first heart–the golden one–the glow faded. The once vibrant light dimmed into dull amber, almost lifeless, as though rejecting his touch.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
“He’s not Charleston bloodline,” someone whispered.
“It didn’t react!”
“Then he’s-”
But before the murmurs could swell into chaos, a sudden flicker of light burst from the other heart.
A pulse of blue–brilliant, pure, and alive–lit the chamber!
The light wasn’t the crimson of corruption or the gold of lineage–it was something entirely new, a tranquil but powerful hue that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of water and sky. It flooded across the altar, washing over Adrian’s hand and up his arm in spirals of soft luminescence.
The crowd froze.
Even Elder Vaughn, for all his decades of composure, took an involuntary step back, his eyes widening behind his half–moon spectacles.
The hall was silent–so silent that the faint hum of the glowing heart seemed to echo endlessly.
Then, with a shaky breath, Elder Vaughn spoke.
“That… that color…”
His voice trembled, not with fear, but disbelief.
He turned to the presiding elder, then back to Adrian, as though struggling to align what he saw with what he knew.
“If the first heart–the golden one–had glowed,” he said slowly, “it would mean the boy is of Charleston blood. A pure lineage of the ancient healers. If the second had turned crimson, it would mean forbidden sorcery–dark energy drawn from spirits and deception.”
He paused, eyes never leaving the blue light that now dance faintly around Adrian’s fingers. “But this… this is neither.”
The crowd shifted uneasily, waiting for him to continue.
Elder Vaughn drew in a breath and spoke, his tone reverent almost awed.
“This glow–this blue radiance—signifies something beyond both bloodline and curse. It reveals a gift forge
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through Inheritance, but through understanding. It is the ark of one who has walked the path of knowledge until instinct itself becomes enlightenment.”
He turned fully to the assembly, his voice gaining strength Such light has not appeared for generations. It means the boy’s power is not borrowed nor stolen–It is caned. The rarest gift of all.”
A stunned silence fell over the hall.
Even Dr. Lander, who had been leaning forward with a smirk ready on his lips, froze. The smirk faltered, then disappeared entirely.
Catherine pressed a trembling hand to her chest. “Blue…” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
Elder Vaughn nodded slowly, still gazing at the glow. “I have seen golden light twice in my life, crimson once… but blue?” He shook his head faintly. “Never. In all my year, I have never witnessed it.”
The light began to fade, ebbing softly until only faint trails himmered across Adrian’s skin. He lowered his hand, calm once more, and faced the elder.
“So,” he said quietly, “does that satisfy your test?”
His voice was composed, but there was an unmistakable weight beneath it–an authority that no longer belonged to a student or a suspect.
Elder Vaughn let out a slow breath. “It does.” He straightened, the formality returning to his tone. “The boy is no sorcerer, nor Charleston heir. He is something rarer–one gifted by understanding itself. Years of study, perhaps passed down through whispers or instinct, yet refined beyond reason.”
He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “To reach this level without lineage… without mentorship… is unheard of. Even I required decades to touch such depth.”
The crowd broke into murmurs again–this time not of accusation, but astonishment.
“Impossible…”
“Is that even humanly possible?”
“He learned it on his own?”
“He’s… a prodigy.”
Elder Vaughn’s stern expression softened just a fraction. “Miracle,” he murmured. “That is the word for it.”
The presiding elder rose from his seat, bowing his head slightly toward Adrian. “It appears the truth is before us all. The test is complete.”
Adrian inclined his head. “Then perhaps,” he said calmly, “we can move on to the main event–the reason this gathering was called in the first place.”
His composure startled even his critics. Where others migh have gloated or defended themselves, he simply dismissed the entire ordeal as a distraction.
It was as if he had already forgiven them.
The presiding elder nodded, relief in his tone. “Indeed. We have delayed the symposium long enough.”
But before Adrian could step away, Elder Vaughn raised a hand. “Wait.”
The hall fell silent again.
Elder Vaughn regarded Adrian carefully, his tone now carrying both curiosity and respect. “Tell me, young man
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he said. “Who was your master?”
Adrian paused.
“No one,” he replied simply.
Vaughn’s brow furrowed. “No one? Impossible. A technique like yours cannot arise from instinct alone. Someone must have guided your hand.”
Adrian shook his head. “I had a teacher in books and failures, nothing more. What I know, I learned through necessity.”
Elder Vaughn’s expression shifted from disbelief to reluctant admiration. “Then the world has grown smaller around you, Adrian Cole,” he said slowly. “For if you are truly self–taught, you have surpassed the teachings of many who claim mastery.”
He hesitated, then added, “If you have no master, then allow me to be one. I will teach you what remains hidden— how to channel that gift without breaking yourself. How to control the power that knowledge awakens. Perhaps even… how to touch the edge of true magic.”
A collective murmur swept through the audience. Elder Vaughn–the same man who had nearly condemned him— was offering mentorship.
Dr. Lander’s face darkened in disbelief. Catherine’s eyes widened, unable to hide her smile.
Adrian inclined his head slightly, neither refusing nor accepting outright. “I appreciate the offer, Elder Vaughn,” he said evenly. “But for now, I’ll continue the path that brought me here. If I am meant to learn magic, I’ll find it in my own way.”
Elder Vaughn studied him for a long moment, then gave a faint, approving nod. “Spoken like one who understands himself. Very well. The invitation remains open.”
He turned to the assembly. “Let none speak of deception again. What stands before you is not a fraud or a ghost from the past. He is proof that knowledge–when pursued with sincerity—can awaken gifts beyond lineage or blood.”
The tension broke like dawn after a long night.
Applause rippled through the hall, hesitant at first, then swelling into genuine respect. Even those who had doubted him now bowed their heads slightly, unwilling to meet Adrian’s gaze out of shame.
Catherine exhaled softly, a smile breaking through her anxiety.
For the first time that day, Adrian allowed himself a faint, fleeting smile.
And as the blue glow faded completely, replaced by the warm light of the torches, a quiet realization stirred in him – this was only the beginning.
The symposium would continue, but something greater had shifted.
Elder Vaughn’s words lingered in the air long after the crowd dispersed:
A gift beyond blood… a miracle unseen in years.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
