The air in Katakwan's castle was thick with unease. It had been days since Drace's confession, yet neither Crimson nor Medas could wrap their minds around it. Crimson leaned against the council chamber's wall, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. Medas sat at the head of the long table, his fingers steepled in front of him as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
"How," Crimson said at last, his voice sharp and cold, "does a boy decide to dismantle something as sacred as the awakening ceremony? And why?"
Medas sighed, his telekinetic energy faintly rippling around the room. "The 'how' is clear—he's no ordinary boy. But the 'why'... I can't begin to fathom it."
Morvane, who stood near the far end of the room, finally spoke. "He already told us why." His tone was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. "He didn't want those teens to unlock powers that could destroy them."
