Peace never lasts.
It began with a summons.
A formal notice delivered by armored enforcers. The Council demanded Ren's appearance—no delay, no negotiation. He was to be brought to the Ivory Hall for questioning.
Yui begged him not to go. Their mother gripped his hand until her knuckles turned white. Kaede offered to fight the summons. But Ren only nodded and said, "It's time."
The walk to the Council's chamber was cold and quiet. The city still celebrated him in murmurs and candlelight, but power had a price—and Ren had taken something sacred from the dungeon. Something unnatural.
The Council's chamber was vast, circular, lined with robed figures who sat above and beyond the reach of sunlight.
"Ren Kisaragi," the Speaker began, voice hollow. "You have trespassed forbidden depths. Taken from the heartroot. Defied the bounds placed to protect humanity."
"I saved my mother," Ren replied. Calm. Clear.
"You corrupted your soul."
"I'm still me."
Silence.
Then: "You are to be evaluated, examined, and—if necessary—contained."
Kaede, standing nearby, stepped forward. "You'll have to go through me."
One Councilor raised a hand. "Then you, too, are a threat."
Ren's eyes glowed faintly. "So this is the thanks I get?"
"You are dangerous, Ren," the Speaker said. "Whether you mean to be or not."
Ren looked to Kaede. Then to the guards. Then up.
"I won't run," he said. "But if you try to take me from my family—"
His shadow flared.
"I'll remind you why the dungeon fears me."