Chapter 13: The Council of Twelve

The chamber of the Twelve Holy Guardians was a sanctuary of divine influence, its walls adorned with glowing sigils that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. At the center of the room stood a circular table carved from the Guardian Tree, its ancient surface inlaid with intricate runes representing the twelve aspects of the gods.

Seated around the table were the Twelve Holy Guardians, their presence radiating power and authority. Each was unique in bearing and demeanor, but all shared an aura of unwavering resolve.

King Luthar stood at the head of the table, his expression composed but grave. The Guardians had summoned him—not an uncommon occurrence, but the urgency in their summons hinted at unease.

"Your Majesty," began Guardian Elysia, her voice calm but firm. She was the eldest of the Guardians, her long silver hair cascading over her golden robes. "We requested this meeting to discuss the traveler… Trevor."

"An outsider," rumbled Guardian Theros, his deep voice matching his imposing figure. He was clad in black and crimson armor, the sigil of judgment emblazoned across his chest. "A man who wields both divine and demonic energy is not a traveler; he is a walking catastrophe."

"Or perhaps something more," interjected Guardian Sylvan, the youngest of the group. His emerald eyes gleamed with curiosity, his youthful features betraying the sharp mind beneath. "To wield both energies and survive… it's unprecedented. Shouldn't we seek to understand it before we condemn it?"

"Understand it?" Theros scoffed, his gauntlet slamming against the table. "What is there to understand? Divine and demonic energy cannot coexist without destruction. His very existence is a danger to us all."

"Enough," said Guardian Lira, her soft voice cutting through the tension. She was a healer by nature, her golden staff resting at her side. "Trevor saved Princess Beatrice. That alone deserves our consideration."

"Consideration?" Theros snarled. "Or pity?"

Elysia raised a hand, silencing the rising argument. Her voice was measured as she addressed the king. "Your Majesty, what do you believe about this man?"

King Luthar's sharp gaze swept over the Guardians. "I believe Trevor has proven himself. He saved my daughter from Helmond Canyon, and she speaks highly of his strength and resolve. That is enough for now."

Sylvan leaned forward, his hands resting on the table. "With respect, Your Majesty, I believe Trevor represents an opportunity. If he truly commands both divine and demonic energy, he could become a bridge between worlds…. an answer to the growing threat of corruption."

"That is dangerously naive," Theros growled. "Bridges between worlds lead to ruin, not salvation."

Guardian Lira looked thoughtful, her amber eyes softening. "Perhaps Sylvan is right. Trevor may not understand his gift fully, but if guided, he could wield it for the greater good."

"Or destroy us all," Theros muttered.

Elysia turned to Luthar. "Your Majesty, we must address the greater question. Trevor is an enigma… a contradiction. Will you treat him as an ally or a liability?"

Luthar's gaze hardened. "Trevor is here because my daughter trusts him. I will not judge him prematurely. But," he added, his tone unyielding, "he will be watched. Closely."

***

In the shadow of a nearby corridor, Beatrice leaned against the cold marble wall, her arms crossed. She had come to speak with her father but froze when she heard the Guardians mention Trevor's name.

Her stomach twisted as she listened to the heated debate. When Sylvan spoke in Trevor's defense, she felt a flicker of relief. But when Theros condemned him, her heart sank.

It was her father's final words that struck her most deeply. He will be watched. Closely.

Beatrice frowned. She had expected resistance, but the cold calculation in her father's tone unsettled her. Trevor had risked everything to save her, and now they were debating whether he was a danger?

She straightened, her fists tightening. She wouldn't let them turn Trevor into a pawn.

Trevor stood at the edge of the palace gardens, the hum of distant fountains mingling with the low rustle of the evening breeze.

He exhaled slowly, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword. The whispers in his mind had quieted, but they lingered like the faint echo of a storm waiting to return.

"Trevor."

He turned to see Beatrice approaching, her expression guarded but soft.

"You've been standing out here for hours," she said, stopping a few paces away.

"Thinking," Trevor replied.

"About what?"

Trevor looked back at the horizon. "About how long it'll take before they decide I don't belong here."

Beatrice frowned, stepping closer. "They're cautious. That doesn't mean they've condemned you."

"They don't need to say it out loud," Trevor said, his voice low. "I've seen the way they look at me… like I'm a weapon they don't know how to use yet."

Beatrice hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Sylvan and Lira see potential in you. Even my father isn't blind to what you've done for us. They're not all against you. But Theros…."

Trevor's gaze flicked to her. "Yeah?"

Beatrice sighed. "He's… stubborn. He sees the world in black and white. He won't trust you easily."

Trevor smirked faintly. "He's got common sense. Sounds like most people."

Beatrice stepped closer, her voice softening. "You don't have to prove anything to him… or anyone else. You're here because of what you've already done. And because I trust you."

Trevor studied her for a moment, the faintest crack in his guarded expression. "That makes one of us."

"Trevor…."

"Relax," he said, cutting her off with a faint smile. "I'm not running anywhere. Not yet."

Beatrice searched his face for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Because whether you like it or not, you belong here. You're just too stubborn to see it."

Trevor didn't respond, but as she turned to leave, he glanced at the stars again. The silence in his mind was welcome, but he knew it wouldn't last.

That night, Trevor sat alone in his chambers, his back against the cold stone wall. His sword rested at his side, its dark surface faintly reflecting the glow of the moonlight.

The whispers returned, faint and insistent.

"You cannot escape what you are."

Trevor clenched his fist. "Watch me."