The heavy oak door of the council chamber closed behind them with a resonant thud that seemed to echo through Fin's very bones. The sound carried the weight of finality, a gavel strike that sealed his fate and severed him from the world he had known. Each measured footstep down the corridor felt like a countdown to his erasure from the annals of the kingdom. He followed his father, Mara, and Fidorviole through the labyrinthine passages of the palace, their shadows dancing on ancient stone walls.

The same dimly lit side chamber where he had first arrived, courtesy of Mara's teleport, now felt like a tomb. Flickering torchlight cast wavering shadows that seemed to mock the gravity of the moment.

The moment the door sealed them in privacy, the stoic facade of Donovan Aodh, the mask of the composed nobleman, shattered like glass struck by a hammer. In a movement so swift and uncharacteristic it stunned Fin into complete immobility, his father crossed the distance between them in three desperate strides and pulled him into an embrace that spoke of profound terror and boundless love.

This wasn't the reserved, formal embrace of a nobleman acknowledging his heir. This was the fierce, protective clench of a father who had just watched his son be condemned to exile and had been powerless to prevent it. Strong arms wrapped around Fin with a strength that bordered on crushing, holding him as if he could somehow shield him from the cruel machinations of fate through sheer force of will. Fin could feel his father's heart hammering against his ribs, a staccato rhythm that matched the frantic pulse of his own transformed physiology.

For a moment, Fin was too surprised to react. This level of raw, unguarded affection was something his father rarely, if ever, displayed.

Then, gradually, the warmth of the embrace began to seep through the lingering shock of the council meeting. Fin leaned into it, burying his face in his father's shoulder, the rough fabric of the robes a grounding, familiar texture in a world that had become terrifyingly alien. He felt the tension in his own transformed body begin to unwind, the ever-present thrum of the Stormheart in his chest seeming to soften its rhythm.

The embrace lasted perhaps thirty seconds, before reality intruded with surgical precision.

A sharp, pointed cough echoed in the small chamber, cutting through the intimate moment like a blade through silk.

The sound broke the spell with jarring efficiency. Father and son separated awkwardly, the raw emotion of the moment receding like a tide as the reality of their audience reasserted itself. Both men stepped back, suddenly aware of the eyes upon them.

Fidorviole stood by the door, his arms crossed over his armored chest, his expression unreadable but his presence an undeniable reminder of their official circumstances.

"We have little time," he stated, his voice a flat, unemotional baritone that cut through the lingering emotional haze. "The King's decree is absolute and delays serve no one."

Donovan's jaw tightened, the muscles working beneath his skin as he forced himself back into the role of the composed lord. He nodded curtly, his composure returning like armor sliding back into place. When he looked at Fin, his eyes were filled with a thousand unspoken questions, fears, and regrets. "Fin. Your... transformation. I need to understand what happened."

Fin took a deep breath, the air feeling strange in his newly configured lungs. The simple act of breathing had become a reminder of how fundamentally he had changed. "In the Scriptorium. I found a skill tome. Stormheart." The words came out steadier than he felt, though the memory of that moment, the searing pain, the fundamental restructuring of his very being, still haunted him.

"When I accepted it," Fin continued, forcing himself to meet his father's worried gaze, "it began to replace my heart. The process... was incompatible with my human physiology. To prevent my core from shattering entirely, the System initiated a forced evolution." He paused, the weight of the next words heavy on his tongue. "I am... an Aos Sí now."

The name fell into the quiet room like a stone dropped into still water, creating ripples of recognition and understanding. Fin saw it immediately, a flicker of knowledge, a sharp, meaningful glance that passed between Mara and Fidorviole in a fraction of a second. It was a look that spoke of hidden knowledge, of secrets held by the siblings. They knew the name. They understood its significance in a way he did not, and their shared understanding excluded him from some crucial truth.

The silence stretched, pregnant with unspoken implications, until Mara stepped forward with characteristic decisiveness.

"Enough of that," she interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade as she deliberately cut off any further questions about the race. She turned her glare on her brother, the look she gave him suggesting that sibling dynamics transcended even military rank. "So, where are you actually sending him? Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you were foolish enough to announce his true destination in front of that moron Northwell and the rest of the council."

A slow, wolfish smirk spread across Fidorviole's face, the first crack in his stoic, military demeanor. It was the expression of a chess master who had just revealed a particularly clever gambit. "You know me too well, sister. The records will state he is being escorted to the northern country, to Korr. A harsh land, easily watched by our enemies. A believable destination for a political exile of his... particular circumstances."

He paused, his pale eyes gleaming with strategic satisfaction. "In reality, he is going west. Far west. To the Free Cities of the Neister Archipelago."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Fin had read about them in his studies, a collection of sovereign island city-states scattered across the vast Caanic Sea, far beyond the kingdom's influence and political machinations. A place known for its mercenary guilds, powerful merchant houses, and most importantly, its freedom from the tangled web of continental politics. It was the perfect place for someone to disappear, to reinvent themselves, to become someone entirely new. The irony wasn't lost on him that he was already becoming someone new in the most literal sense possible.

"And his escort?" Donovan asked, his voice tight with barely controlled worry. "Who are you entrusting with my son's life?"

"Someone skilled, loyal to me, and most importantly, someone I trust to disregard protocol when necessary to ensure Fin's safety," Fidorviole stated with the confidence of a man who had made such calculations countless times. "He should be arriving any moment now."

As if summoned by the Captain's words, the chamber door creaked open with theatrical timing. A young man leaned against the doorframe, a picture of casual, almost insolent confidence that seemed completely at odds with the gravity of the situation. He was perhaps three or four inches taller than Fin, with a lean, wiry build that suggested speed and agility over brute strength. His hair was a shock of naturally white-gray, cut in a messy, carefree style that fell into his eyes in a way that suggested he either couldn't be bothered to properly groom it or actively cultivated the disheveled look.

But it was his eyes that truly caught Fin's attention, a brilliant, piercing turquoise. He radiated power like heat from a forge, a dense, swirling aura that Fin's enhanced senses immediately identified as solidly Tier Four, impressive for someone who couldn't be more than a few years over 30.

Mara let out a long, weary sigh, the sound of a teacher who had just seen her most problematic student show up late to a final exam. "Oh, for the love of…"

The newcomer pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered into the room with the casual confidence of someone who had never met a situation he couldn't charm his way through. A wide, easygoing grin spread across his face as he took in the assembled group. "So!" he said, his voice bright and cheerful, cutting through the somber atmosphere like sunlight through storm clouds. "Is this the super-secret, doom-and-gloom meeting I was told to crash? Because I was distinctly told there'd be snacks, and I'm seeing a disappointing lack of refreshments."

THWACK.

Fidorviole's gauntleted hand moved in a blur, slapping the young man soundly on the back of the head with practiced precision. The sound echoed in the chamber. "Show some respect, Soga. You are in the presence of a Lord and your instructor."

The young man, Soga, rubbed his head with theatrical wounded dignity, his grin not faltering in the slightest. "Ow. Right, right. Formalities and all that." He straightened and gave a mock bow that was more of a theatrical flourish, complete with an elaborate hand gesture that would have been more at home in a court jester's routine. "Soga Tarouj, at your service. Specialist in teleportation and, apparently, babysitting duties for wayward young nobles."

Mara pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed as if fighting off a migraine. "Brother, of all the capable mages in the Royal Guard, of all the disciplined soldiers at your command, you chose this... this fool?"

Soga put a hand to his chest, his expression one of deeply wounded theatricality. "Master! How could you wound me so? After all we've been through together? All those late-night study sessions, the life-or-death training exercises, the bonding over shared near-death experiences... I thought we had something special!"

"He is a fool," Fidorviole agreed without hesitation, earning a renewed pout from Soga. "But he is also one of the most powerful spatial mages on this continent. His skills will be able to move Fin around the archipelago with untraceable ease. Furthermore, I trust him to actually do a decent job of continuing Fin's combat training." He gave Soga a pointed look. "And, as an unexpected bonus, he and Fin can now pass as brothers."

The comment hung in the air with practical significance. Fin looked at Soga's messy white-gray hair, then thought of his own newly transformed appearance. It was a small, practical detail that somehow made the entire surreal situation feel more concrete, more real.

"Fine," Mara conceded with a final, long-suffering sigh. She reached into a fold of her robes and seemed to pull something from thin air. It was a mask, crafted from a smooth, obsidian-black material that seemed to absorb the light around it. It was featureless except for two eye-slits that shimmered with a faint, blue energy. "You will wear this whenever you are in public, Fin. It is a concealment artifact. It will cover your features and modulate your voice."

She handed it to him. It was cool and surprisingly light, the material feeling almost organic under his fingers. Then, she tossed him a small, red fruit. "Try this with the mask on."

Fin looked at the fruit, then at the seamless mask. "How?"

"Just try," she urged.

Hesitantly, Fin put the mask on. It sealed to his face with a soft hiss, the inside molding perfectly to his new contours as if it were alive. The world seen through the eye-slits was crystal clear, perhaps even clearer than his natural vision. He raised the fruit to his mouth, expecting it to hit the solid surface. Instead, the fruit simply phased through the material of the mask as if it weren't there, allowing him to take a bite without ever revealing his face. The inside of the mask remained clean and dry.

"It's an enchantment keyed to organic matter," Mara explained. "You can eat and drink without ever removing it." It was a final, practical gift from his instructor, and perhaps the most valuable one.

"When do we leave?" Fin asked, his voice coming through the mask as a deeper, unidentifiable tenor.

"Now," Fidorviole said, his tone leaving no room for delay. "The longer you remain in this city, the greater the risk to everyone involved."

The finality of the word settled over the room like a shroud. This was it. The moment of departure had arrived with brutal efficiency. Fin turned to his father, and Donovan stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on each of his son's shoulders. His gaze was intense, burning with all the words he couldn't say.

"Be smart. Be strong. Survive," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Know that your mother and I are proud of you. Always. I'll send word to your brother"

Fin nodded, unable to speak past the lump forming in his throat. He turned to Mara and Fidorviole, giving them a respectful bow. "Thank you. For everything."

"Yeah, yeah, touching family moments, royal decrees, secret exiles," Soga said, clapping his hands together with cheerful impatience. "Are we done with the heartfelt goodbyes? I've got a standing card game in the western port I'd rather not be late for."

Before anyone could reprimand him, Soga grabbed Fin's shoulder. "Alright, 'little brother'," he said with a wink. "Hold on tight. First stop is a thousand miles away and has excellent seafood."

And with a lurch that twisted his stomach and a flash of brilliant, turquoise light, the world was torn away from Fin once more

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