Chapter Twenty–Eight
The air in the Grand Assembly Hall grew taut, every whisper sharp enough to cut through silence. Elder Vaughn, still standing at the center, looked from Adrian to the presiding elder, his expression grave yet curious–as though weighing something ancient against the present moment.
“Since the boy refuses to speak,” Elder Vaughn said finally, his tone slow, deliberate, and heavy with authority, ” there is another way to uncover the truth.”
The murmur of the crowd thickened instantly.
“What way?”
“Elder Vaughn knows something…”
“If anyone can reveal it, it’s him!”
Elder Vaughn turned toward the presiding elder. “With your permission, I shall conduct a verification—a spiritual test that exposes the nature of one’s power. We will see, before all witnesses, whether this youth carries the Charleston bloodline… or wields forbidden sorcery.”
The presiding elder hesitated. “Elder Vaughn… that is a dangerous practice. Are you certain-”
But Vaughn cut him off with a flick of his hand. “Dangerous, yes. But necessary. Too many frauds have hidden behind miracles. Too many deceivers have made a mockery of medicine.”
The words carried a sting that settled over the crowd like a shroud. Faces that had been uncertain now burned with vindication. Excitement rippled through them; anticipation gleamed in their eyes.
Finally, someone would expose Adrian.
“Do it!” someone shouted.
“Let him be tested!”
“If not for Elder Vaughn, this boy would have fooled us all!
The chorus swelled, their eagerness dark and fevered. The air reeked of mob energy–the same crowd that had once admired Adrian now hungered for his downfall.
Elder Vaughn motioned to one of his disciples, a thin young man in silver robes. “Fetch the relics. Two hearts, preserved under spirit binding.”
The disciple bowed deeply and hurried off, returning moments later with a small, sealed chest carved from obsidian wood. When opened, two faintly glowing objects lay within–pulsing hearts, preserved yet alive with spiritual resonance. They glowed in alternating hues: one gold, one deep crimson.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
“That’s forbidden relics!”
“I’ve heard of those–used by the Pavilion’s elders centuries ago!”
“They react to bloodlines, don’t they?”
Elder Vaughn nodded, placing the hearts carefully on the ceremonial table. “One heart resonates with truth–the lineage of the ancient healers, including the Charleston bloodline. The other responds to unnatural energy–the mark of corrupted sorcery.”
He turned toward Adrian, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Touchthem both, and let the hearts speak. If you carry the blood of the Charleston, the first will awaken. If you carry dark power, the second will burn. If neither–then you are simply ordinary.”
The murmurs grew louder, more urgent, more vicious.
Catherine took a step forward, eyes wide. “Elder Vaughn, this isn’t fair. He has no reason to-”
But Vaughn’s cane struck the floor with a sharp tok, silencing her instantly. “Fairness is the concern of those who doubt truth. This is medicine’s sanctum, not a child’s playground. If the boy’s power is pure, then this will vindicate him.”
Dr. Lander’s voice sliced through the noise, cold and triumphant. “Well said, Elder Vaughn. Let him prove it! If his power is honest, let us all see it with our own eyes.”
Adrian stood silent, his expression unreadable. The entire hall seemed to lean toward him, as if the world itself held its breath.
Vaughn gestured toward the table. “Step forward, boy. Unless, of course…” His tone darkened. “You are afraid.”
The words struck the crowd like thunder.
“Afraid?”
“He’s hesitating!”
“That means he’s guilty!”
“He’s a fraud—using witchcraft!”
“Call the authorities before he curses someone!”
The accusations came from all sides, venomous and loud. Even those who had cheered his victory now glared at him with suspicion.
Adrian’s eyes flicked from face to face–men and women who claimed to heal, yet looked ready to destroy without understanding. He could feel the heat of their hostility like fire against his skin.
And still, he said nothing.
Inside, though, his thoughts churned.
Charleston bloodline…
His mother’s face rose in his memory–her gentle eyes, her quiet strength, and that strange aura she always carried, calm but unknowable. He’d once asked her about their ancestry, about why her pulse felt different when he held her hand. She had smiled and said only, “Some knowledge is safer when forgotten.”
He had never asked again.
Now, that silence haunted him.
Could she… have been one of them?
He clenched his fists slightly, jaw tightening. No. I am Adrian Cole. My gift is mine alone.
Still, the doubt gnawed at the edges of his calm.
Catherine watched him, her heart pounding. His silence terrified her–because she knew how the crowd would take it.
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“He can’t do it,” someone whispered.
“He’s stalling.”
“Just arrest him already!”
“Fraud!” another shouted. “He’s ruining the reputation of the medical city!”
The uproar grew louder, spreading like wildfire. Dr. Lander folded his arms, his smirk widening with each cry. “It seems the boy’s courage ends where truth begins.”
Adrian finally looked up, his gaze locking on Vaughn. His voice, when he spoke, was calm–almost too calm for the chaos around him.
“I never said I wouldn’t do the test.”
The crowd faltered, caught off guard by the steadiness of his tone. Even Elder Vaughn’s brows lifted slightly.
“I only needed a moment,” Adrian continued, “to decide whether the opinion of this hall was worth the effort.”
Gasps and angry murmurs exploded again, but Adrian’s gaze never wavered.
“I am not afraid,” he said. “But I do not perform tricks to please those chasing clout or gossip. My gift–whatever you wish to call it–is for healing. Not spectacle.”
His words cut through the noise like a blade. The hall stilled again, though the tension didn’t ease.
Elder Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “So you claim a gift, not sorcery?”
“I claim nothing,” Adrian said softly. “Only that what I do saves lives. The rest–bloodlines, legends, politics- means nothing to me.”
For a long, heavy moment, no one moved. The silence pressed like a weight. Then Elder Vaughn spoke again, his tone almost grudgingly respectful.
“Then step forward, young man. Prove that your hands hold truth.”
Adrian took a breath and moved closer to the table. The glow of the two hearts reflected faintly in his eyes–gold and crimson, light and shadow. He could feel their energy humming through the air, ancient and alive.
Catherine’s voice broke softly. “Adrian…”
He gave her a faint smile, just enough to reassure her. “Don’t worry.”
Then he looked back at Elder Vaughn. “You want the truth? he said quietly. “Then you’ll have it.”
He extended his hand–but before it even touched the hearts, the air around him shifted. The faint currents of energy that had hovered lazily over the relics began to twist reacting to his presence.
The audience froze, their excitement turning to fearful awe
Dr. Lander’s smirk faltered.
Elder Vaughn’s eyes flickered with sudden interest.
Adrian’s fingers hovered just inches away, and the two heads pulsed–once, twice–as though sensing him. One glowed gold, the other red, both trembling in conflict.
And then-
He stopped.
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His hand lowered slowly to his side.
“I said I would do the test,” he said evenly, “not that I would perform it for your amusement.”
Gasps filled the room. Catherine’s eyes widened in disbelief Elder Vaughn’s jaw tightened in restrained fury.
Adrian turned toward the presiding elder. “If this is a hall of healing, not witch hunts, then let your judgment reflect wisdom, not fear.”
The presiding elder hesitated, caught between order and chaos, but before he could speak, Elder Vaughn’s cane struck the ground again.
“Enough games,” Vaughn said coldly. “You will be tested.”
Adrian’s gaze met his, unwavering. “Then let the truth speak for itself.”
The air thickened once more, anticipation like thunder before the storm. Around them, whispers hissed like snakes:
“Either bloodline…”
“Or sorcery…”
“Or death.”
And as Elder Vaughn motioned for his disciple to prepare the ritual, Adrian stood still, his calm unbroken–yet deep within his heart, a flicker of unease stirred.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t certain whether what flowed through him was gift… or destiny.
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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.
