Chapter 7: The Council’s Summons

The streets of Lifara buzzed with energy as Yasser and Kaerys made their way deeper into the city. The cobblestone paths were alive with the hum of magic—vendors hawked enchanted trinkets that shimmered with unnatural light, while children chased floating orbs that giggled like tiny bells. Towering buildings of white stone lined the streets, their surfaces etched with runes that glowed faintly in the evening light. The air smelled of sweet incense and the tang of molten metal, a strange but intoxicating mix that made Yasser's head spin. His dark and golden clothes caught the glow of the floating lanterns overhead, and he felt the weight of curious gazes from the city's inhabitants. His silver ring pulsed steadily, as if reacting to the magic woven into the very fabric of Lifara.

Kaerys led the way with a purposeful stride, their cloak shimmering with golden runes that seemed to shift and writhe like living things. Yasser followed, his sword bouncing lightly at his side, his glowing eyes scanning the surroundings. "So, this Council of Veils," he said, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm. "Are they the 'welcome you with open arms' type, or more the 'throw you in a dungeon for existing' type?"

Kaerys glanced at him, their silver eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and warning. "The Council is… complicated," they replied, their voice low. "They are the stewards of Lifara's magic, five mages who have guarded the city for centuries. They value power, but they fear anything that threatens their control. Your arrival as a mage-warrior—a bloodline they thought extinct—will unsettle them. Be prepared for scrutiny."

Yasser rolled his eyes, though his stomach tightened with unease. "Scrutiny. Fantastic. I'm sure they'll love my sparkling personality," he muttered, adjusting his grip on his sword. Kaerys didn't respond, but the faint twitch of their lips suggested they found his bravado more entertaining than convincing.

They approached a massive structure at the heart of the city—a citadel of black and gold stone that seemed to drink in the light around it. Its spires stretched toward the sky, crowned with orbs of violet energy that pulsed like beating hearts. The entrance was flanked by two enormous statues of robed figures, their stone faces carved with stern expressions, each holding a staff that glowed with a faint inner light. Guards in shimmering armor stood at attention, their spears crackling with magical energy as Yasser and Kaerys approached.

"Kaerys, Keeper of the Veil," one of the guards said, his voice formal but tinged with respect. His gaze shifted to Yasser, lingering on the silver ring. "And the mage-warrior. The Council has been expecting you." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the towering doors, which swung open with a low, resonant hum.

The interior of the citadel was breathtaking. The ceiling soared high above, a dome of stained glass that depicted scenes of ancient battles—mages wielding torrents of light against shadowy beasts, warriors with glowing blades standing defiant. The floor was a mosaic of black and gold tiles, forming intricate patterns that seemed to shift as Yasser walked across them. At the far end of the hall sat the Council of Veils, five figures seated on thrones of obsidian, their faces obscured by shimmering veils that glowed with runes. The air around them crackled with power, a pressure that made Yasser's ring flare in response.

Kaerys bowed deeply, and Yasser followed suit, though his bow was more awkward than graceful. "Elders of the Council," Kaerys began, their voice steady, "I present Yasser, a mage-warrior newly arrived in Lifara. He bears the mark of the ancient bloodline and seeks to understand his power—and his place in our world."

The central figure—a woman with a voice like the whisper of wind through leaves—spoke first. "A mage-warrior," she said, her tone cold and measured. "We thought your kind lost to time. Yet here you stand, untested and untrained, your power a wildfire waiting to burn." Her veil shimmered as she leaned forward, the runes glowing brighter. "Tell us, Yasser—why should we allow you to remain in Lifara?"

Yasser straightened, meeting the unseen gaze of the Council with as much confidence as he could muster. "I didn't exactly ask to be here," he said, his sarcasm slipping through despite the tension in the room. "This ring dragged me into your world, and I've been fighting to survive ever since. I'm not here to cause trouble—I just want answers. About my magic, my ancestors, and why this city feels like it's calling to me."

A murmur rippled through the Council, and the figure to the right—a man with a voice like rolling thunder—spoke next. "Bold words for one so young," he said, his tone laced with skepticism. "But words mean nothing without proof. If you are truly a mage-warrior, you must demonstrate your power. Only then will we decide your fate."

Before Yasser could respond, the floor beneath him glowed, runes flaring to life in a circle around him. The air grew heavy, and a shimmering barrier of light rose, trapping him inside. From the shadows of the hall, a construct of magic materialized—a humanoid figure made of swirling energy, its hands crackling with lightning. Yasser's heart raced as he drew his sword, his ring glowing fiercely. "Another trial?" he muttered, glancing at Kaerys, who stood outside the barrier, their expression unreadable. "You people really need to work on your hospitality."

The construct lunged, a bolt of lightning arcing toward him. Yasser dodged to the side, the energy searing the air where he'd stood. His ring pulsed, and he channeled his magic into a burst of light, striking the construct's chest. It staggered but didn't fall, retaliating with a wave of energy that knocked Yasser back, his boots skidding across the tiles. Pain flared in his side, but he gritted his teeth, raising his sword to block the next attack. The blade glowed as he infused it with magic, a trick he'd stumbled upon in the forest, and he slashed downward, cleaving through the construct's arm. It howled—a sound like shattering glass—and dissolved into a shower of sparks.

The barrier faded, and Yasser stood panting, his sword still raised. The Council watched in silence, their veils shimmering with unreadable intent. Finally, the central figure spoke again. "You have potential," she said, her voice softer now, though no less commanding. "But potential is dangerous without discipline. You will remain in Lifara—for now. But you will be watched, and you will be trained. Kaerys will oversee your progress."

Yasser lowered his sword, relief mixing with suspicion. "Training, huh? I'm guessing that's not optional," he said, his tone dry. The Council didn't respond, their silence a clear answer. Kaerys stepped forward, placing a hand on Yasser's shoulder. "Come," they said quietly. "You've survived the Council's judgment. Now the real work begins."

As they left the hall, Yasser couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just walked into a game far bigger than he understood. Lifara's magic pulsed around him, a constant reminder of the power—and the danger—that now defined his path.