The Ascent to Judgment and the city of fog
Chapter 6: The Ascent to Judgment and the city of fog
The heavy doors groaned as they dragged open, revealing an abyss of silver and shadow beyond.
Lucian stopped walking for a moment before he stepped forward hesitantly, his boots echoing against polished stone. The moment he passed the threshold, the air around him seemed to shift, growing heavier, more suffocating.
The hall was vast and majestic, yet cold in its grandeur.
The chamber beyond was vast, its air thick with unseen weight, a gravity that wasn't physical but felt just as crushing.
Lucian stepped forward, his boots clicking against smooth stone.
Every muscle in my body is telling me not to go forward.
-----
The doors slammed shut behind him.
Lucian exhaled, slow and measured, forcing himself not to flinch.
He turned sharply—only to realize Mianro was gone.
Vanished.
Mianro is gone.
Of course he is.
The hall stretched before him, grand yet ominous, its domed ceiling vanishing into a silver haze. Towering obsidian pillars lined the sides, engraved with moving symbols, their meaning shifting just beyond comprehension. A trick of the mind. Or something more.
And at the very end of the room, a high platform loomed above him, its steps carved from smooth black stone. And upon that platform, seated in five great chairs, were the figures of the High Council.
Lucian exhaled sharply.
They were shrouded in deep shadows, their forms barely visible.
Two sat on the left—both male. Two on the right—both female. Their features were obscured, but their presence was undeniable.
Lucian swallowed hard.
Their faces were hidden beneath layers of darkness, their forms blurred, indistinct, yet their presence was unmistakable.
But it was the center figure that drew Lucian's breath to a halt.
Unlike the others, She did not move.
She only watched.
Her presence was an immovable force, heavier than the rest, bending the very air around her. There was no need for words. Her silence was absolute.
A being wrapped in shadow darker than the void itself, seated upon a throne of silver and stone. Though he could not see her clearly, Lucian could feel her power, her authority—something intangible yet absolute.
An imperious force.
The air itself seemed to bend around her presence, and even the shifting silver engravings on the walls stilled for a moment, as if they too acknowledged her dominance.
Lucian clenched his fists.
I am nothing here.
And now, they were judging him.
------
---
Then, a voice—low, deep, and weighted with unseen authority.
One of the males on the left spoke.
"Lucian. That is the name you carry, is it not?"
Lucian took a breath. He had no reason to lie.
"Yes
His voice was smooth, deep, like a blade sliding against steel.
Lucian forced himself to hold his ground.
The council did not move.
"You are an outsider," the second male on the left stated. "And yet, we allowed you to enter"
Lucian's breath hitched slightly.
They allowed me?
Not because I passed the barrier on my own, but because they let me in.
They could have refused. The barrier would have burned me alive.
A subtle correction of power. A reminder that he was here only because they willed it.
The second female on the right spoke next.
"You carry silver in your veins, yet it is not like ours. Why?"
Lucian frowned. "I don't know."
A brief pause.
Then—
"That is not an answer."
The weight of their voices pressed against him, layered with something unseen. Not quite power, not quite magic—something deeper.
Lucian clenched his fists.
I don't have answers to give them. But that doesn't mean they won't take them.
The symbols on the walls flickered, shifting in reaction to his presence.
The first female finally spoke, her voice softer but no less commanding.
"You are not the first to wield silver. But yours is unlike any the Order has ever seen."
Lucian exhaled slowly.
"You are an anomaly," the same female continued. "You do not belong to the Order. You do not wear its mark. And yet, you walk within our walls, past our barriers, carrying silver that is not silver."
Lucian stiffened.
"Silver that is not silver?"
The second male on the left finally spoke.
"Show us."
I've heard this before.
The Shade knew. The vampire sensed it. Even Eris looked at me like I was something different.
But what did that mean?
He held out his hand.
The silver in his veins responded.
It flickered along his skin—not the sharp, refined constructs Eris wielded, not the disciplined energy of the Order.
It was raw. Shifting.
Unstable.
The chamber reacted violently.
The silver runes along the walls flared, shifting unnaturally.
Lucian gritted his teeth as a sudden pressure wrapped around his skull, an invisible force digging into his mind.
The voices of the council blurred, overlapping, their words turning into a haze—
Then—
A memory surfaced.
A dim room. A heavy silence.
A desk.
A chair.
And across from him—a stern-faced principal.
Lucian blinked.
No—not Lucian.
A boy. Younger. Smaller.
A middle school office, years before he had ever woken in this world.
The principal's voice cut through the air. "Do you understand why you're here?"
Lucian—**no, the boy—**fidgeted slightly, his fingers tightening around his sleeves. "I—"
A sharp look from the principal silenced him.
"You've been acting out," the man continued, leaning forward slightly. "Unfocused. Not yourself. Your teachers have noticed. We are concerned."
The boy—Lucian—looked down at his hands.
He didn't know what to say.
Something in his chest felt wrong, distant. Like he was watching himself from the outside.
He barely registered the rest of the conversation. The words became background noise.
He knew what they wanted.
An explanation.
A reason for why he wasn't normal.
But he didn't have one.
So he said nothing.
And the meeting ended with nothing changed.
Lucian gasped, snapping back to the present.
The chamber was still spinning around him, his mind reeling from the sudden memory.
He clenched his fists.
That's in the past.
I am not that boy anymore.
He forced himself to steady his breathing.
The council did not move.
They had seen something—he knew it. But they did not speak of it.
The central figure, the one who had not spoken, remained still.
Only watching.
Waiting.
------
The second male finally broke the silence.
"Your silver is unique. Not like ours. Not something we understand."
Lucian tensed.
So even they don't know?
Then why was he here?
Another pause.
Then, the first female spoke again.
"it is Not the silver we know. And yet, it is silver nonetheless."
Lucian lowered his hand, his mind racing.
The High Council had no answer.
They didn't recognize his power.
And that was far more unsettling than if they had.
"We will not cast judgment on what we do not yet comprehend."
Lucian blinked.
Was that… acceptance?
Or something worse?
The shadows around them shifted.
And one by one, the figures faded.
Their voices lingered for just a moment longer, whispering—
"We will watch."
Then—
Nothing.
Lucian exhaled sharply.
The doors behind him groaned open once more.
------
Lucian stepped out of the chamber, his mind storming with thoughts.
And waiting for him—just as before—was Mianro.
The silver-cloaked figure stood motionless, his hood still obscuring his eyes, the vine-like markings pulsing faintly.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Mianro finally moved.
"Come," he said. "It is done."
Lucian hesitated for just a second—then followed.
But as he stepped forward, his hands trembled.
Not from fear.
Not from exhaustion.
But from something else.
Something he couldn't shake.
That memory.
That moment in the principal's office.
Why now?
Why here?
Lucian exhaled, shaking the thought away.
That was the past.
And in this world, the past did not matter.
Only what came next.
And he had no idea what that would be.
--------
----
The doors to the High Council chamber closed behind them with a dull, resounding thud.
Lucian exhaled, his body finally catching up with the weight of what had just happened. His mind was still storming with questions, the memory from his past life clinging to him like a cold hand on his shoulder.
But before he could dwell too long, Mianro turned to him.
"Orders have been given," the silver-cloaked man said, his voice smooth and unreadable. "You are to be escorted to your designated residence."
Lucian blinked, barely processing the words. "Wait. So they're letting me stay?"
Mianro tilted his head slightly. "For now."
Lucian grimaced.
Not exactly reassuring.
But it was better than being thrown out or executed.
Mianro turned, beginning to walk down the corridor. Lucian hesitated for only a moment before following.
No use standing around like an idiot. Better to figure out what comes next.
---
As they stepped out of the Sanctorum Headquarters, Lucian was once again met with the eerie, otherworldly beauty of Alexandria.
The perpetual dawn still hung over the city, casting everything in a soft golden hue. The mist curled through the streets like living veins, weaving between towering silver spires and smaller, stone-built structures.
The roads beneath his boots were smooth, engraved with countless shifting runes, reacting faintly to those who walked above them. Every few steps, he noticed pillars of silver torchlight lining the streets—no fire, no smoke, just glowing liquid silver suspended in glass lanterns.
Lucian kept his gaze moving, studying the city.
This place…
It shouldn't exist. Not in a world like this.
Most of Nocturnal was a wasteland—ruins, shattered cities swallowed by darkness. Yet here, within the walls of Alexandria, there was structure, order, a strange kind of life.
Though the streets weren't crowded, there were still people.
Figures moved in the mist, some wearing silver-lined armor, clearly warriors of the Order. Others were dressed in simple robes, their hands carrying scrolls, books, or tools. A few merchants were stationed at the corners of wide streets, selling crafted silver trinkets, engraved weapons, and preserved goods.
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly.
This isn't just a fortress. It's a civilization.
He hadn't realized it before, but Alexandria wasn't just about survival. It was about maintaining something greater.
Despite the war, despite the vampires and the creatures that lurked beyond, this city had refused to fall.
But for how long?
Lucian clenched his fists, pushing the thought aside.
---
Mianro led him through a wider street, where more buildings clustered together, their rooftops curved in smooth arcs, each one engraved with the crest of the Silver Order.
"This section is the Outer Ring," Mianro said, speaking for the first time since they'd left the Council Hall. "Shops, forges, and supply stations are located here. You may return at any time, provided you do not cause… disturbances."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Disturbances?"
Mianro did not elaborate.
Lucian sighed.Good to know I'm being treated like a potential threat.
As they moved through the district, he caught glimpses of life.
A blacksmith, his arms covered in silver-lined burns, hammering away at a weapon that hummed with energy. A group of children, their silver-colored eyes watching him curiously from behind a merchant's stall. A robed figure, standing near an alley, whispering to another in hushed tones.
Lucian absorbed it all.
This isn't just a city of warriors. There are civilians here, families.
A sudden wave of unease crept into his chest.
Which means… if this city ever falls, it won't just be soldiers who die.
---
After crossing the market, the streets became narrower, quieter. The buildings here were more uniform—solid structures of silver and stone, built with defense in mind rather than beauty.
Mianro finally stopped in front of a three-story building, its frame made of reinforced dark metal, its doors marked with a silver sigil.
Lucian studied it carefully. It wasn't large, but it was far from cramped. The design was simple—defensible, sturdy, meant to last.
"This will be your residence," Mianro stated. "It has been outfitted for single occupancy. The first floor holds supplies, the second is your living space, and the third is an observation room."
Lucian frowned. "Observation room?"
Mianro didn't answer.
Lucian sighed, stepping forward. He placed a hand against the cool metal door, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath his fingertips.
This is real. This is happening.
For the first time since arriving in this city, he had a place to return to.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
---
As he stepped inside, Mianro's voice stopped him.
"Tomorrow, you will receive further instructions."
Lucian glanced back. "Instructions for what?"
Mianro tilted his head slightly, his silver markings pulsing faintly.
"you dont need to know."
Lucian stiffened.
Who the hell do you think you are, son of a b-.
I need to calm down.
Lucian took a deep breath.
Mianro said nothing more. He simply turned, his cloak flowing behind him as he disappeared into the mist.
Lucian exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
Then, as he stepped fully into the building, something flickered in his mind.
A glimpse—
A memory.
---
A Past Life, A Different Room
A classroom. Dim lighting. Old wooden desks.
A teacher's voice, droning on about something he didn't care to remember.
Lucian—no, his past self—sat near the window, staring outside. His hands tapped rhythmically against the desk, his mind drifting, slipping away from the words, from the expectations, from the weight of everything he was supposed to be.
Then—
A sharp knock on the door.
A voice, calling his name.
He was being summoned.
His heart had pounded back then, the same way it had in the Council Hall earlier.
That same feeling.
The feeling of being watched. Judged.
He had hated it.
He had wanted to run.
But he hadn't.
Just like now.
---
Shaking the Past
Lucian snapped back to reality.
The silver door shut behind him, enclosing him in his new home.
He exhaled, shaking the memory away.
That was then. This is now.
Whatever his past had been, it had no place here.
He was in a new world. A world that did not care who he had been.
Only what he would become.
Lucian tightened his fists.
And for now, that was enough.
---
End of Chapter 6