The decision wasn't made lightly. Tyrraline paced the war room, which had once been a garage but now resembled an ancient courtroom fused with a digital chapel. Sigils burned across the ceiling. Old banners hung like memories. And at the center of the room stood Elian, arms folded, trying not to shake.
"It's dangerous," Arken said. "She could lash out. The cocoon's protected by reactive magic."
"She won't hurt him," Tyrraline replied. "But we"ll know if she recognizes him."
Vecca crouched near the runic projector, adjusting the field lines. "What if she doesn't recognize him?"
"Then we prepare for the truth," Velkan said, entering silently. His obsidian skin rippled with unreadable inscriptions. "Whatever that truth is."
Elian felt the weight of every gaze. "I don't even know what I am," he said quietly.
"Neither did your mother," Tyrraline said. "Not at first."
They moved to the lower level. The cocoon pulsed softly, like it had been waiting.
Elian stepped forward alone. One step, two step. Then he crossed the containment line. A ripple of light washed over him.
The cocoon flared. Not in alarm, nor in pain. But in recognition.
A deep, resonant hum filled the chamber. Symbols lit along the cocoon's surface- Old words, Yrmeta's words- None of which had glowed in years.
"Elian," Velkan said. "Stop there."
Elian froze, just three feet from the crystal. From within, the queen stirred. Her eyes did not open, but her hand twitched. And for the first time in years, her voice echoed aloud in the physical world.
"He is…"
Then silence. The cocoon dimmed.
But the symbol it left behind glowed on the floor beneath Elian"s feet- A spiral surrounded by seven slashes.
Tyrraline stepped forward, her voice very low. "She almost named you."