The chill of late October crept over the Castle of Castles, where the icy wind whistled through the monumental towers. The solid, intimidating stone structures were now covered in a thin blanket of snow, reflecting the pale light of the moon against the dark sky. The scarlet banners, symbols of the Red Way family, fluttered fiercely in the biting wind, each gust carrying with it the echo of a history marked by power and loss.

Michelle Red Way walked through the ancient corridors of the place that had once been her home. But now, the castle, with all its grand walls, no longer seemed to offer warmth or refuge. Instead, the weight of every stone seemed to crush her soul.

The throne room opened before her, its heavy doors creaking as if protesting her arrival. The towering walls were adorned with ancestral tapestries, portraits of mages who had shaped the world, their stern faces staring down at her with eyes that seemed alive.

The red throne, raised as a symbol of absolute power, stood desolate in the vast hall. Michelle felt her heart pound harder, a familiar discomfort with each step she took. Her long white hair, so characteristic of the Red Way lineage, swayed in the cold wind, while her eyes, red like embers, scanned the scene before her. She immediately noticed the four other seats occupied by the leaders of the arcane families.

Michelle adjusted her glasses, taking a deep breath. Each of those Arcanists, no matter how powerful and feared, did not intimidate her. On the contrary, the silence in the air hinted at something far worse. She observed the empty hall, save for the somber gazes fixed upon her.

— The fact that I hate this place doesn’t stop you from calling me here... — Her words echoed through the vast stone hall, reverberating as if seeking an answer. Her feet moved across the marble floor, each step audible in the ensuing silence.

— Michelle... — Ava was the first to speak. The Sapphire Arcanist, always firm and intense, now hesitated as she spoke. There was something different in her posture, an unusual weakness that made her even more tense.

— Where is my brother...? — Michelle interrupted, her eyes inspecting every corner of the hall. — This is a meeting of the Council of Arcanists? You can’t proceed without Leon present! He is the Scarlet Arcanist!

The depth of the silence that followed was suffocating. Each of the Arcanists watched her with a mix of pity and resignation.

Ava opened her mouth, but the voice that came out seemed distant, as if each word were a blow.

— Michelle, your brother...

— The Scarlet Arcanist, Leon Red Way, passed away tonight.

The deep, hoarse voice of Patrick Black Garths cut through the silence of the hall like a muffled thunderclap, reverberating off the cold stone walls. The air around him seemed denser, as if the entire environment were suffering. He wore a long black velvet robe that dragged on the floor, embroidered with silver threads that glimmered faintly under the torchlight. His golden monocle gleamed as he observed Michelle with cold, almost disdainful eyes.

Patrick’s aura, that of a large man, reinforced his imposing presence. For a moment, it seemed as though he was about to make a cruel joke.

Michelle froze, her body tensing as if it were about to shatter. Her feet, which had seemed glued to the polished marble floor, could no longer move. Her gaze, previously fixed on the luxurious red carpets, abruptly rose to meet Patrick’s.

Her heart pounded fiercely, as if trying to escape the pain that was surfacing. The vastness of the hall, with its majestic columns and vaulted ceilings, seemed to suffocate the air around her. The echo of his words still vibrated through the walls, intensifying the impact.

— What did you say? — The words escaped her lips before she could control herself. Speaking to an Arcanist in such a way was sacrilege, especially to Patrick, whose power and influence surpassed that of many. But prudence had been swallowed by the need to understand.

Patrick tilted his head slightly, his monocle glinting in the firelight. His eyes, dark as the abyss, met Michelle’s with the coldness of steel.

— Leon... used the Sacrificium Animarum Sigillum... — Ava added, her voice trembling with pain. The words came out like a bitter lament.

Those words, forbidden to be spoken among the Arcanists, now echoed through the hall with the force of a death decree. Every mage knew that spell. Everyone knew what it meant. They knew the price. They knew that under no circumstances should it ever be used. The sacrifice of one soul to seal others, a power no mage, no matter how desperate, should dare to conjure.

— Why? — Michelle stammered in a broken whisper, barely escaping her lips. — Why would he do that? It’s suicide... it’s forbidden!

Before the echo of her words could fade, a new voice emerged, soft and treacherous like the whisper of a serpent. Harvey Green, the Jade Arcanist, opened his mouth, his words carefully crafted to inflict pain with subtlety. He was the youngest among the Arcanists, but his youth was a mask that hid a sharp and dangerous mind. With a subtle smile, his green eyes gleamed with veiled malice, his jade-green robe swaying gently around him.

— Our families have been at war for centuries, Michelle — Harvey said, savoring each syllable as if it were a feast. — The Lunatics have claimed more lives than we can count.

The name, Lunatics, danced in Michelle’s mind like poison, provoking a sense of nausea. They were a group of renegade mages, cruel rebels who defied the order established by the Arcanists, but none of that justified Leon’s decision. It didn’t explain why he had sacrificed himself.

— Leon put an end to it, once and for all — Ava’s voice, with its soothing tone, seemed an attempt to calm the storm raging within Michelle. Ava was a tall, slender woman with short sapphire-blue hair, maintaining a regal posture despite the weight of her words. She sat motionless, but her presence dominated the hall.

Michelle looked at the floor, Ava’s words echoing, trying to make sense, but something didn’t add up. The brother she knew, the one she had always protected, the foolish boy who had grown up by her side, the Leon who was passionate about the family he had built—he would never make such a desperate decision. Her heart screamed that something was wrong.

— He had children! — Michelle’s voice broke again, this time more fragile, her control slipping with each syllable. Tears were already forming in her eyes, threatening to spill over. — He would never leave them like this...

Ava raised her chin, as if she had been in mourning for a long time.

— He saved them... saved all of us.

Michelle felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked around, hoping the imposing walls of the hall might offer some solace, but everything seemed more oppressive than before.

— Neither Tyler nor Hyan are old enough to succeed their father... — she murmured. — It’s not safe... it won’t be safe for them... to grow up here.

Suddenly, a new voice spoke, deep and full of authority. Nathan Gold, the Golden Arcanist, finally broke the silence, his voice resonating through the hall like distant thunder. He stood, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a deep scar running across his face where his right eye should have been.

— There will be no succession — he said, each word like a hammer blow, firm and irrevocable.

Michelle stared at Nathan, perplexity etched on her face.

— I am next in line... — she murmured, her voice almost a whisper, barely audible in the vast hall. Her eyes, which had seemed drowned in indecision, now reflected a wavering determination.

— Michelle, listen! — Ava shouted, her face carved with the grace of a matriarch, but her eyes revealing something darker, like an abyss on the verge of collapse.

Michelle, lost in her thoughts, barely noticed the attempt to warn her.

Nathan, the Golden Arcanist, remained motionless until that moment. His figure, that of a veteran warrior, every muscle of his large, robust body seemed sculpted by battle. When he spoke, it was as if the very stones beneath his feet trembled.

— There will be no more Scarlet Arcanist — he declared.

Michelle’s breath became shallow, and the cold in the air seemed to penetrate her bones.

Slowly, as if time had slowed around her, Michelle turned her body. Her scarlet dress swept the floor in a solemn dance. Her eyes, once clouded, now searched for an explanation, a justification, anything to ease the burden. But what she found were only impassive faces. The figures before her—the Arcanists, ancient and powerful—seemed distant, like stone statues watching her with cruel coldness.

— We share your pain, Michelle — Harvey said, the words slipping from his mouth with the smoothness of slow poison, the malicious gleam in his green eyes revealing his true nature. — But you know what happened in the past. What your father did...

The mention of her father was like a lit fuse inside her. Michelle’s blood boiled, and the anger that had always run through the veins of the Red Way lineage finally erupted.

It was an ancient, primal fury, the same madness that had consumed her father and now, perhaps, began to swallow her own soul. She felt every fiber of her being contract, the air in her lungs insufficient to contain the storm growing within her.

— Don’t you dare speak of him! — Michelle roared, her voice resonating through the hall like the sound of a freed beast.

She raised her hand, and in the blink of an eye, red circles of energy swirled around her slender fingers, drawing arcane seals in the air. Like burning embers, the runes intertwined, and a thin, scarlet-bladed sword appeared in her hand. It was as if the very blood of her fury had given shape to the weapon. She pointed the blade directly at Harvey’s chest, who, for a brief moment, lost the arrogant gleam in his eyes.

— My father... — Michelle hissed, her once-hesitant eyes now burning like live coals, red as the fire that ran in her blood. — It was this boy who killed him! And now, with my brother dead, you think you can just decide what happens?

All eyes turned to Harvey, who now stood motionless but without losing his composure. Only Ava moved—or rather, didn’t move—but her presence seemed to grow even colder. She remained like a statue of ice, unshakable, but her eyes, two windows to a deep sadness, said more than her words. When she spoke, her voice came out with unsettling serenity.

— Michelle... — Ava began, her voice low, almost like a lament. — Think of your children... your nephews... — There was a contained pain in her words, one that Michelle recognized but refused to accept. — It was a unanimous decision.

In the center of the hall, Patrick, the Black Arcanist, slowly rose. He was like a mountain moving for the first time in ages, his bulky body draped in black robes adorned with ancient runes of power.

— Gather your belongings and your children. — His deep, hoarse voice cut through the air. — Leave the Castle of Castles tonight. Live as common folk. The reign of the Scarlet Arcanists is over.

As those words echoed, Michelle felt an icy void take hold of her. Her vision darkened, and for the first time in a long while, the future seemed to crumble before her. Everything she had known was gone.