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Lorath doesn’t lower her weapon. Her stance hardens, jaw setting with defiance that would be admirable if it weren’t so misplaced. “A stranger who destroys lightstones with a mere look?” Her face contorts with suspicion. “And you expect us to believe she’s harmless?”

I turn to Ellie, and for a moment, the rest of the room ceases to exist. The politics, the plans I need to make, stepping back into a role I once held, all secondary to what I see before me.

Silver flecks swirl in her eyes, luminous and shifting beneath the light. But it’s not the strangeness of the silver that holds me. It’s the confusion there. The alarm, and the effort it’s taking to remain steady under so many weapons turned against her.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her.

“Who is she?” Lorath snaps, and her voice forces my attention back into place.

Ellie flinches, recognizing the threat in the tone, even if she doesn’t understand the words.

“Enough!” The word tears from my throat as I slam my fist onto the table. The shadows around us deepen instantly, bleeding up the walls, dimming the flickering light until the entire chamber feels smaller, heavier, closer. Lorath freezes mid-step, instincts overriding her anger.

The display serves its purpose. Reminding them all who I am, what I can do without effort. The fragile balance of respect and fear must be maintained, especially now, when my position is still solidifying after years of absence.

Still, her jaw sets. Defiance radiates from her as she stalks around the table, and stops in front of Ellie. The tension between them crackles.

“Who is she?” She repeats each word slowly, a challenge issued across the space between them.

Behind Ellie, the lightstones pulse, brighter then dimmer, their rhythm syncing to the quickening of her breath. It’s not a coincidence, it’s a warning. My gaze moves between the unstable lights and the silver swirling more prominently in her eyes.

Her skin has turned ashen, almost translucent. The reaction is progressing faster than before, and she lacks the tools to control it. If the situation escalates further, the damage could extend beyond broken lightstones.

“Ellie.” I deliberately soften my voice, stepping between her and Lorath, forcing her attention back to me. I lift a hand, intending to turn her face to mine, then stop, letting it fall back to my side. The impulse to touch her is becoming more frequent, more natural. A liability I never want nor can afford. “Are you alright?”

She nods, the movement small and unconvincing. “What happened?” she whispers. “Was that me? I didn’t mean to—” Fear threads through her words.

“We will talk later. Do you wish to remain or leave?”

“I … I’ll stay.”

I turn back to the gathered Veinwardens. Their eyes track my every movement, suspicion still thick in the air, but I ignore it. Years of imprisonment have not dulled my ability to command a room, or to manipulate the currents of unease to my advantage.

“What you just witnessed is exactly why her presence is important. She affects magic in ways that should be impossible.”

Telren, the eldest among them, steps forward. His hand restslightly on the pommel of his blade, not in threat, but in thought. The lines of his face deepen as he studies Ellie. He was there, decades ago, when I was first learning to control my own abilities. He understands the dangers of untrained power better than most. But that isn’t what comes out of his mouth.

“You speak of prophecy, my Lord.”

“I speak of observable fact.” I’m unwilling to commit to mystical interpretation. “What you just saw with your own eyes.”

“Or it was a coincidence,” Lorath counters, folding her arms. “Lightstones fail.”

“It happened when she tensed up,” Neris points out. “We all saw it.”

Ellie, caught in their scrutiny, shrinks back in her chair. She must understand, at least partially, what conclusions are forming around her. The pressure of being examined, judged,feared—a position I know intimately from my youth.

“I didn’t do anything.” She looks genuinely distressed. “I was just sitting here.”

I hold up a hand, silencing everyone, and turn back to her. The room stills, as it should. Let them remember who leads here.

“Can you tell me what happened in the moments before the lightstone shattered?”

She glances around, shifting nervously on the chair. The silver in her eyes has receded slightly, but remains visible to anyone looking closely enough.

“My head hurt,” she says finally, her voice low. “And then myarms started tingling, like when a limb falls asleep. It spread into my chest. Everything felt ... tight. And then the stone shattered.”

Interesting.