Vane steps into the silence of the grand chamber and begins reciting the ancient prophecy of the blood bonder, sparking an immediate uproar among the terrified council members. The heavy oak tables shake slightly as several elders pound their fists in protest against the forbidden name. When half the elders shout him down with angry warnings, a neutral head count narrowly permits Vane to finish his historic reading. I keep my expression locked behind my regal mask, though my hand twitches against the velvet armrest. Beside me, Levin shifts his weight, the natural scent of spring meadows cutting sharply through the stale incense of the hall.
Vane gestures to his young son, Chandler, who steps forward from the shadows with trembling hands. Chandler unrolls a yellowed parchment that smells of damp earth and old wax, his voice cracking as he starts to read the forgotten laws governing the legendary blood bonder aloud. Levin remains utterly silent beside me, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as the implications sink into the cold stone walls. Malakor glares at the boy, his fangs clicking together in a quiet display of rising fury. I wonder briefly what Levin knew before he ever walked into my sunlit shop, and what other secrets he has buried beneath those light green locks.
The parchment rustles in Chandler’s grip as he reads the archaic penalties for defying a true creation of the blood. Several more elders try to interrupt, but Vane silences them with a single sharp gesture of his ringed hand. Finally, Vane signals to the guards standing near the iron-banded doors to bring forth the glass vials to test the endless blood. Two guards step forward carrying a heavy wooden tray lined with amber bottles we brewed in the lower lab. Vane hands a vial to a hesitant elder in the front row, instructing him to break the seal and verify the contents.