CHAPTER 56: SOUL MAGIC

The throne room doors loomed before Jack like the gates of judgment itself. Each massive panel of gold-veined marble stood twenty feet tall, its surface carved with scenes of conquest that seemed to writhe in the flickering torchlight.

Ancient kings rode to battle, their armies crushing enemies beneath hooves and blades, while divine figures looked down from crystalline clouds with expressions of cold approval.

The weight of history pressed down on Jack’s shoulders as he approached, the small raven shifting its grip with obvious tension.

’This is it,’ Jack thought, his hand unconsciously moving toward where his Lightning Blade would have rested. But he carried no weapons here, only the mysterious power he’d gained in the Spire and the ancient intelligence perched on his shoulder.

The palace servant who had escorted him bowed deeply. "Lord Kaiser," the man said, his voice carefully neutral. "His Majesty awaits."

The doors swung open with silent precision, revealing the throne room in all its intimidating glory.

Jack’s breath caught as he stepped inside. The chamber was a monument to royal power that dwarfed even his family’s mansion. Soaring columns of black marble stretched upward into shadow, each one carved with spiraling reliefs that depicted the triumphs of kings long dead.

The floor was polished obsidian that reflected everything like dark water, creating the unsettling impression of walking across a bottomless lake.

Massive banners hung between stained glass windows that cast colored light in patterns across the vast space.

The royal arms dominated the largest banner, a crowned king, with both hands on his blade.

But it was the people gathered in the center of the chamber that made Jack’s heart race with a mixture of relief and dread.

King Eric sat upon the throne, a masterwork of crystal and precious metals that seemed to be melted together. The throne was massive, designed to make its occupant appear godlike to supplicants below.

Yet despite the overwhelming grandeur, Eric himself looked smaller than Jack remembered.

The king wore simple but elegant robes of midnight blue, their only ornamentation the silver crown that caught the stained glass light. His expression was carefully neutral as he observed the tableau before him, but Jack could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles had gone white where they gripped the throne’s armrests.

To the king’s right stood Aurelius, and Jack immediately understood why the man commanded such respect and fear. The chosen one was resplendent in golden armor that seemed to generate its own light, each plate perfectly fitted to his powerful frame.

His amber eyes fixed on Jack the moment he entered, calculating and assessing with the cold precision of a predator.

There was something different about Aurelius now. A hardness that hadn’t been present in their previous encounters. The political maneuvering of the past few days had clearly taken its toll, and Jack could see the frustration simmering beneath the man’s perfect composure.

Beside him, Lyra maintained her position with perfect military bearing. Her silver hair caught the stained glass light like spun moonbeams, and when she noticed Jack’s entrance, she offered a respectful bow toward the throne. But there was something in her pale eyes, a flicker of genuine sympathy that she quickly suppressed.

It was Sera who drew Jack’s attention most forcefully. The dark-haired chosen one lounged against one of the massive columns with deliberate casualness, her black leather armor and wild grin completely at odds with the formal setting. When she saw Jack, her green eyes lit up with predatory interest that made his skin crawl.

"Well, well," she purred, her voice carrying easily across the chamber’s acoustics. "The dragon slayer returns. And he’s brought a friend."

Every eye in the room immediately focused on the small raven perched on Jack’s shoulder. To most observers, it would appear to be nothing more than an unusually well-trained pet.

But Jack could feel the immediate shift in atmosphere as the more experienced fighters recognized what they were actually seeing.

The raven itself seemed to preen under the attention, its obsidian eyes reflecting the chamber’s light while maintaining that supernatural glow that marked it as something far more dangerous than it appeared.

Aurelius straightened like a hunting hound catching a scent, his hand moving unconsciously toward the sword at his hip. "That’s no ordinary bird," he said, his voice carrying the authority of absolute certainty.

"Terror-rank," came a gravelly voice from the shadows near the chamber’s edge. Finn stepped forward into the light, his scarred features grim with professional assessment. "Haven’t seen a Carrion Raven bound in decades. How in the hell did you manage to tame that creature, boy?"

Before he could respond, his focus shifted entirely to his family. They stood in a loose formation near the center of the chamber, and the moment his eyes found them, the political intrigue faded to background noise.

Alaric Kaiser looked like a volcano on the verge of eruption. His jaw was set in a rigid line, his shoulders held with military precision, and when his golden eyes met Jack’s, the relief there was so intense it was almost overwhelming. Dark mana leaked from his form in visible tendrils, making the air around him seem thick and oppressive.

Jack had seen his father angry before, but this was different. This was the cold, calculated fury of a man who had been pushed beyond his limits and was now deciding whether to unleash hell upon those responsible.

Lady Genevieve stood beside her husband, and Jack barely recognized the woman who had raised him. Her usual warmth had been replaced by something far more dangerous, an icy calculation of the situation.

She wore traveling clothes of fine black wool, but Jack could see the subtle bulges that suggested hidden weapons. His mother, he realized with a start, had come prepared for war.

Octavia maintained her perfect composure as always, but Jack could see the slight tremor in her hands, the way she kept glancing between him and the chosen ones as if memorizing their positions. She had positioned herself slightly ahead of her younger sisters, ready to step between them and danger without hesitation.

Annabelle clutched a leather portfolio to her chest, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Of all his sisters, she had always been the most emotional, the one who wore her heart on her sleeve. Seeing her distress made something cold and angry stir in Jack’s chest.

And Celeste... his middle sister stood with the rigid posture expected of nobility, but Jack caught the slight sway in her stance, the way she held herself just a little too carefully. Even here, even now, she was fighting her demons. But when her eyes met his, the relief there was unmistakable.

"Jack." Alaric’s voice carried the weight of mountains, each syllable carefully controlled. "Are you harmed?"

The simple question hung in the air like a blade poised to fall. Jack could hear the unspoken threat beneath it, if harm had come to him, there would be consequences that transcended politics and diplomacy.

"I’m fine, Father," Jack replied, his voice steady despite the emotional weight of the reunion. "They’ve treated me well."

"Have they?" Lady Genevieve’s voice could have frozen fire. Her gaze swept across Aurelius and the other chosen ones with surgical precision. "Taken from your home without warning, held against your will, subjected to political manipulation..."

King Eric rose from his throne, the movement sending ripples of tension through the assembled group. "Lady Kaiser," he said, his voice carrying the authority of absolute power, "your concerns are understandable, but the situation is more complex than..."

"Don’t." Alaric’s single word cut through the king’s explanation like a blade through silk. "Don’t you dare try to justify this, Eric. I know why you did it, and I understand the political necessities. But you could have told me."

The king’s expression flickered with something that might have been shame. Jack watched the interplay between the two men, seeing decades of friendship warring with political reality. There was history here, old debts and older betrayals that went far deeper than the current crisis.

"Alaric..." Eric began, but the duke cut him off again.

"You let me think my son had been taken as a prisoner," Alaric continued, his voice growing colder with each word. Dark mana began to seep from his form more visibly, creating writhing shadows that danced across the obsidian floor.

"You let me ride here believing I would have to negotiate for his freedom, when all along this was a theater. A demonstration for the watching kingdoms that Elysium’s chosen ones support our interests."

Silence fell across the throne room like someone had just been buried. Jack could feel the political currents shifting around them, old secrets being dragged into the harsh light of truth.

Through his soul link, the raven’s ancient intelligence whispered warnings about the escalating tension, the way hands were moving toward weapons, the scent of violence building in the air.

"You used our friendship," Alaric said quietly, and somehow the soft tone was more terrifying than if he had screamed. "You owe a debt that can never be paid."

King Eric had the decency to look genuinely pained. The weight of the crown seemed to press down on him visibly, aging him years in moments. "Old friend, the pressures from other kingdoms..."

"We are no longer friends." The words fell like hammer blows, each one echoing in the vast chamber. "We are duke and king. Master and debtor. Nothing more."

Jack felt his breath catch at the finality in his father’s voice. Whatever bond had existed between these two men, forged in youth, sealed in blood and secrets, had just been severed.

The political ramifications were staggering. House Kaiser controlled a third of the kingdom’s military might, vast territories, and crucial trade routes. If Alaric withdrew his support...

Sera’s laughter cut through the tension like broken glass, the sound echoing off the marble walls with malicious glee.

"Oh, this is delicious," she said, pushing away from her column with fluid grace. Her dark hair caught the stained glass light as she moved closer to the center of the chamber. "Political intrigue, family drama, ancient debts, and broken friendships. But can we talk about the really interesting part?"

Her green eyes fixed on Jack with predatory focus that made his skin crawl. There was something deeply wrong with her gaze, the look of someone who found genuine pleasure in others’ pain.

"How did little dragon slayer here manage to tame a Terror-rank creature?"

"It’s not tamed," Finn interjected, his one good eye fixed on the raven with professional assessment. "It’s bound from Soul Magic."

Those words sent ripples of shock through the assembled group. Jack could see the implications clicking into place in their minds, soul magic was supposed to be a lost art, its practitioners dead for centuries.

Aurelius stepped forward, his amber eyes blazing with sudden intensity. "Impossible. Soul magic is a forbidden art. The last practitioners were hunted down and executed during the Purge of Shadows."