There was one track out in front, completely choked up with both literal and imagined difficulties. The agent guided Aeron through the empty countryside where tall, spiky peaks rose into the cloudy sky, like the bones of some long-dead giant. The air was thickening the whole time they moved forward, with a great deal of tension pressing down over the place.
As they came near a huge castle at the edge of the horizon, Aeron could feel its strong presence: a great building of black stone, with dark, swirling symbols on its face. It was a stronghold of secrets, where the forger of power would decide the course of fate.
He stopped at the gates and pivoted to face Aeron. "This is where the Council of Shadows meet," he repeated, his tone this time much colder. "Here, they make decisions concerning the fate of the factions. They expected you, but they are wary.
Aeron looked into the high gates with carvings depicting scenes of ancient wars-the rise and fall of kingdoms. It was no ordinary fort, since this was in the heart of the power tussle of that world.
He lifted his hand, and the gates creaked out in a ghostly fashion as they slowly, ponderously opened onto a large inner courtyard. There, in tableau of expectation, a group of people stood, their eyes upon him as he drew closer. These were the members of the Council-the rulers of this broken world.
The woman at the head of the Council was a tall one, her hair silver as the moon, her eyes startling violet, and commanding such that the others were forced to listen whenever she spoke. She wore dark robes that seemed to swim with shadow, and on her head rested a crown of dark stone, a sight to both the beauty and terror of ancient power.
You are Aeron, she said, her voice smooth, yet laced with the edge of authority that seemed to make the very earth beneath their feet shudder. He who has passed the elemental trials, he who controls the power of the Aether. Impressive. In our world, however, power in and of itself means little. So the question begs-what is it that you want from us?
Aeron stared into her eyes. "I want to know," he said. "The truth of this world-the factions, the Aether, those secrets kept in darkness.
The woman smiled, a thin, knowing smile. "Ah, the truth. You are not the first to seek it, Aeron. Many came before him but fell into the same trap.
Truth is a weapon. It may serve or harm you. The balance of power here is in the hands of the Council of Shadows. We decide who flies and who does not. If you want answers, first prove that you deserve them.
Aeron's eyes narrowed. "I don't need your approval to seek the truth.
Her expression had turned from warm into a smile. "Maybe not, but you most definitely will want our protection if you want to survive in this world. The groups aren't nice to people that don't join in with them.
She flung her hand up, and beneath them, the earth yawned, opening up into a big hall beneath the citadel. A spiraling flight of steps sank down into the darkness, and with each step, Aeron felt the air grow colder.
The air thickened as they went down and the invisible eyes following him. The walls were made of black stone; the only light in the room came from flickering torches that lined the walls, casting long shadows on the stone floor.
In the centre of the room was a huge, round table crafted from a single piece of black marble; around it sat members of the Council, and Aeron was invited to take a seat. He sat amidst the starting eyes of every one of them watching him, waiting for what he would do next.
The woman, her violet eyes never leaving him, leaned forward, as if speaking for all four of them. "Tell us, Aeron, what do you bring with you? You are strong, yes, but that alone does not buy you a place in our world. Power will not last. It is influence that speaks here.
Aeron grasped how sensitive her words were. She wasn't wrong. Having the power wasn't going to cut it in this world. He needed friends, backing, and the nous to handle the complex web of factions and internal politics that determined it all.
"I bring loyalty," Aeron said calmly. "Loyalty to those who share my ideals, who can see just how vital the cause of truth and power really is. I seek to unite the ones who will be able to stand as one, to fight against the systems holding us at bay."
The faces of the Council members didn't show anything as they looked one to another. The woman with silver hair leaned back in her chair, regarding him. "Loyalty is rare in this world," she commented softly. "But it can be a mighty tool if put to proper use.
She raised her hand once more, and above the table appeared a row of pictures showing groups in different settings: some large empires, covering many lands; others much smaller, secret, and working quietly.
These are the factions that rule the world," she said. "Each with its own goals and its own source of power. Some through avarice, some through dogma, and some through ambition. The Aether is cast right in the middle, and for which it was truly designed is forgotten. Your mission, Aeron, is to decide where your true loyalties are-where a decision shall be made that will dictate the course this world shall endure.
Aeron looked at the projections, feeling the weight of his decision; every group looking more threatening than promising in return for loyalty, influence, and aid. Still, none of them had been very attractive to him. "I shall have my own way," Aeron said firmly in his voice. "I will bring into being a new group, one that above everything else seeks the truth, which shall not yield to somebody's will, standing up for what is right."
The Council members did not speak, and their eyes stared at him. For a moment, the room was quiet, and the air felt heavy with tension. At last, the woman with the silver hair nodded. "Very well," she said in a firm, cutting voice. "We shall see about your dream coming true. But let this be on your mind, Aeron-if it does not so happen, you will have only yourself to blame. Aeron stood tall, with his heart running so fast. The future ahead was all foggy, but one thing he knew: he would never be subjugated to anyone. Instead, he would go out and build his own group-one resting its foundation on loyalty, honesty, and strength. And he would make the factions out there fear him.