The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 36: The Council Vote

The Keep hadn’t known silence like this since the Siege.

Magnolia stood in the central chamber, facing the full circle of Elders, their faces hidden beneath ceremonial veils stitched with bone-thread. At the center of the ring, the High Seal glowed, alive and waiting for judgment.

Elara stood to Magnolia’s right, posture rigid, hands clasped in front of her like someone ready for execution. Beckett lingered behind her, shoulders tense, fingers twitching by the hilt of his sword.

Camille wasn’t there.

They hadn’t let her in.

That fact alone twisted something sharp in Magnolia’s gut.

"She is not an enemy," Elara said, her voice calm but loud enough to reach the high stone arches.

"She is a gate," murmured one of the Elders. "A gate we do not control."

"You never controlled her," Magnolia said coldly. "You only kept her ignorant."

"Which preserved peace," another countered.

"At what cost?"

The High Elder hooded, taller than the rest raised a hand.

"Enough."

The chamber stilled.

He rose slowly, the Seal before him flaring brighter.

"We are here to vote on the survival of one Camille Voss, known as Caelia, bearer of blood-marked line, last of the sealed cradle. She has activated two gate-stones, broken the third, and resisted three council orders."

"She also destroyed a mimic," Magnolia snapped. "And saved five sentries."

The Elder continued. "Her bloodline cannot be extinguished. Only sealed."

A murmur ran through the chamber.

Magnolia’s heart pounded.

"She’s not just a weapon. She’s a person."

"Created for war," one hissed.

"Raised for peace," Elara said.

"Twisted by purpose," said another.

"She reclaimed her name," Magnolia said, louder now. "She reclaimed her right to exist."

"She is unstable," said a woman near the rear. "And beloved of both your heirs, is she not?"

Magnolia flinched.

Rhett’s name hadn’t been mentioned aloud, but everyone felt the implication.

"This is not about love," she growled.

The Elder lifted his hand again.

"Enough."

He turned.

"We vote."

A pause.

Then the first hand rose black-gloved.

"Strip her rights."

The second bare fingers.

"Seal her again."

A third.

"Exile."

A fourth.

"Death."

Magnolia’s knees weakened.

No one was voting to protect her.

No one.

Not one.

And then

Elara stepped forward.

Her hands rose.

But not to vote.

To cast.

The spell shimmered into the air silver, forbidden, old. Ancient runes floated around her hands, spiraling through the chamber like glass caught in wind.

"By the First Law," she said, "I cast a hold."

Gasps. Panic. The room surged with murmurs.

"That law was revoked "

"Not in bloodline matters," Elara shouted. "The right of the Shieldbearer stands."

The Seal froze mid-glow.

The Elder hissed.

"You will answer for this."

"I always do." Magnolia turned away as the light died.

She didn’t see the vote finish.

Because it no longer mattered.

Elara had bought them time.

And she would use it.

Beckett waited until after midnight.

The council had retreated in silence. Camille remained locked in the lower ward. Magnolia hadn’t spoken since Elara’s cast. Rhett paced in the eastern tower, muttering things no one could hear.

And Beckett walked the Keep halls like a man carrying a secret too heavy for his bones.

He stopped outside a narrow door near the oldest part of the inner court.

It opened before he knocked.

An Elder stood behind it hood down, face pale, eyes sharp.

"You came."

Beckett didn’t speak.

He stepped inside.

The room was lit by two candles. Old scrolls. Dust. A ledger open on the table. No guards.

"You have information?" the Elder asked.

"I have a solution."

The Elder raised a brow.

Beckett stepped forward.

"I know where she’ll go next. If you let her run."

"And if we do?"

"She’ll stay gone."

"And if we don’t?"

"She’ll burn this Keep down."

The Elder studied him.

"And why offer this?"

Beckett looked down at his hands.

Because he had held Camille’s bleeding body once. Because he had pulled her from a flooded river. Because he had watched her stand back up a hundred times and had never once said I see you.

Because this was the only way he knew to protect her without being a traitor to his title.

"Because it’s right," he whispered.

The Elder nodded.

"We’ll call off the vote. Let her go."

Beckett turned.

"And if you change your mind?"

"We won’t."

He left without looking back.

What he didn’t see

Was the second figure stepping from the shadows once the door closed.

Another Elder.

And this one smiled.

"She’ll go to the mirror gate."

"Yes," said the first.

"Then we’ll be waiting."

The chamber was dark.

Camille sat cross-legged in the center, eyes closed, body still. Her wrists were bound in silver-thread cuffs not to restrain, but to monitor the bond pulse.

The spell Elara had cast had frozen the vote.

But not the fear.

Camille could feel the Keep shifting around her. The way magic curved away from her like animals from a wounded thing. She hadn’t spoken since the Council dragged her from the seal site. They hadn’t asked questions. They hadn’t needed to.

They were waiting for her to break.

So she did it first.

She let herself fall inward.

Into the bond.

Into the blood.

The floor disappeared beneath her.

The chamber dissolved into cold.

And then

She was standing in water.

Not above it.

In it.

Black river, to her waist.

Her hair floated around her like a shroud. Her skin glowed faintly beneath the surface. And in the distance on the opposite shore stood the girl again.

Not a mimic.

Not a shadow.

Her.

As a child.

Nine. Maybe ten.

Hair short. Eyes wide. Mouth sewn shut with runes.

And behind her

A gate.

Made of bone.

Of stars.

Of names.

So many names etched into its arch, glowing with light Camille couldn’t read but somehow understood.

Caelia.

Woundbearer.

She Who Opens.

The girl raised a hand.

The water surged.

And Camille stepped forward.

One step.

Two.

Until the water reached her chest.

Then her throat.

Then her mouth.

The runes around the gate flared

And everything exploded.

She awoke gasping, back in the chamber.

Sweating.

Bleeding from her nose.

And smiling.

Because she remembered.

Not everything.

But enough.

Enough to understand why the mimic had whispered you were supposed to die in the water.

Because that’s where she had been born.

And where she had refused to drown.