Lady Elsa pushed to her feet, smoothing the front of her robe. For a moment, she simply stood there, her gaze unreadable, like she was weighing the weight of her next words. Then she nodded.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “Let’s take a short break… then we’ll call the others in.”

They slipped out through the back door, their robes whispering against the stone floor.

I reached out, fingers tightening around Eric’s arm before he could follow. "You need to control your emotions," I said, my voice low. "I don’t think they’re out to get us like the Judicars. They have answers, ones we need."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the tension in his body refusing to ease. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he dropped back into his seat, dragging a hand down his face before gripping mine. "You’re right," he admitted, but his grip tightened slightly. "But understand where I’m coming from."

His other hand moved to the back of his neck, kneading out the frustration coiled there. "Too many sects. Too many people sticking their hands in this. I feel like we’re losing control." He lifted his gaze to mine, something raw behind his eyes. "Who do we trust?"

He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes weren’t just frustrated, they were afraid. “And now there’s this Breath they keep speaking of. Like it’s someone you’re destined to meet. Maybe… someone you already have.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched.

“What happens if they’re right, Max? What if the Flame does need the Breath to be whole?”

A beat passed between us, thick and silent.

Then he added, barely above a whisper, “What if you already know who he is… and it’s not me?”

I didn’t answer.

Not because I couldn’t but because something inside me tightened in a way that no words could soothe.

Because somewhere in the spaces between prophecy and memory… I think I already did know.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

I cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing softly against his skin. “We trust in God first,” I said, voice gentle but sure. “Before anyone else, before any prophecy, any title.”

His jaw relaxed just slightly under my touch.

“As for this Flame and Breath story… ” I offered a faint smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “… let’s leave it for another day.”

Because truth be told, I wasn’t ready to face it either.

With that, we called in the others, giving them a quick rundown of what happened. They settled at the back of the chamber, the weight of the moment pressing down in the silence that followed.

Ten minutes passed. Then, the door creaked open, and Lady Elsa stepped back in, the others trailing behind her.

She surveyed the room, taking in the assembled team. "Seeing how close you all are," she began, "I assume the rest of you know what’s happening?"

Nods all around.

“Good,” she continued, folding her hands before her. “Because what we reveal next…”

She lets the silence sit, just long enough for the air to thicken, for every breath in the room to still.

“...is something you must commit to memory.”

Another pause. This one heavier, like the calm before a reckoning.

“Max is possibly the most powerful person in the universe right now,” she says at last, her voice low, reverent. “And we all have a responsibility to protect her.” A collective intake of breath. The weight of her words landed hard.

Neil stepped forward, book in hand. He flipped it open with careful precision, the pages whispering against each other like secrets being spilled. "Before I explain, you’ll all receive a memo with the details. Study it. Memorize it."

His fingers traced a passage on the aged parchment. "As we’ve said before, if the Living Scripture is rewritten, there’s a possibility she could return as a Hollow Vessel."

He paused, glancing up.

"A Hollow Vessel," he continued, "experiences emotions as concepts rather than feelings. She would know what anger, love, and sorrow should feel like, but they wouldn’t stir her. Instead of living emotions, she would imitate them."

Alec drummed his fingers on the table, then cleared his throat. "Can you elaborate on that? The concept of emotions."

Neil’s eyes gleamed with interest, the kind of light that scholars get when given the chance to explain something profound. "Certainly," he said, straightening. "Take laughter, for example. Max would see you laughing and recognize that it signifies happiness. She might even remember how happiness once felt, how it bubbled in her chest, light and untamed. But it would be an observation, not an experience. The response would be learned, not lived."

Alec nodded in understanding, tossing him a thumbs-up. "Got it."

"Let’s continue."

I continued watching Neil with mild amusement. He had that animated, over-caffeinated professor vibe, like someone who corrected encyclopedias in his spare time. I could only imagine what it was like watching him and Seth debate. Probably felt like eavesdropping on two search engines having an identity crisis.

"The more Max rewrites herself, the further she drifts from who she was. Memories fade. Connections sever. And when loved ones become nothing but names, her words, once driven by feeling, become nothing more than power."

A pause settled, as if the weight of the observation folded the air itself.

It was Jamey who broke the silence. “And what stops her from losing everything?”

No one answered. Not at first.

Then, almost too quietly, Lady Elsa said, “The Breath.”

Alec stiffened beside me. Eric didn’t look at me, he didn’t have to. He already knew.

"What I’m about to say next might be the most important thing you hear," he warned. "If Max starts showing these signs, you must inform us immediately."

Alec, shifting uneasily in his chair, raised a hesitant hand. "Why?"

Neil’s expression darkened. "Pain is a sensation, not an emotion," he said. "It’s emotions that guide morality, that make us hesitate before committing an act, good or evil. Without them, Max’s divine authority could become dangerous."

He paused, letting the weight of it sink in. "She might no longer distinguish between crime and circumstance. If a man steals a loaf of bread to feed his starving children, she wouldn’t see desperation. She would see only the theft. And her judgment would be absolute."

Jamey swallowed, his gaze flicking to me. His face was pale. "That’s terrifying."

Samuel’s voice cut through the air like a question no one wanted to answer.

“Wait a second… who or what is this ‘Breath’?”

Lady Elsa didn’t answer right away. She leaned back, folding her hands in her lap, gaze distant. “The Breath is… balance.”

A beat.

“Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Alec blinked. “That sounds like a title.”

“It is,” she replied softly. “But not one given lightly.”

Neil exhaled, shutting the book with a quiet finality. His next words settled over us like a shadow.

"You must protect Max from being rewritten until she meets this person." His voice was steady, but there was an urgency beneath it. "If she becomes a Hollow Vessel, she won’t see the world as you do. There will be no mercy, no hesitation, only divine law."

Alec shifted in his seat, exchanging uneasy glances with the others. No one spoke, but the air between them bristled with the same unspoken fear that this wasn’t just theory anymore. It was a warning. And it was personal.

"And if that happens..." Neil hesitated, his grip tightening on the book. He looked at me, not with fear, but with something heavier. "We might not be able to bring the Max we know and care for back."

A cold weight slid beneath my ribs, lodging tight and immovable.

Across from me, Eric’s knee bounced once, hard, and the floor beneath his boot gave a soft crack, fine threads of pressure spidering across the stone like lightning under glass.

"Then what?"

His voice came low, but edged with something jagged. “What happens if she loses too much of herself?”

He leaned forward, elbows braced to his thighs, the air around him warping faintly as if stirred by heat.

“Who…” He bit it back. Swallowed. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding. Then, quieter, “… Who’s supposed to stop her?”

Neil didn’t look up.

The room held its breath.

Chairs shifted. A soft flicker passed through one of the glyph lamps.

But only one person kept their gaze fixed on me.

Eric.

His stare wasn’t confused or curious. It was searching.

And beneath the search, something older stirred. A power coiled tight, unspent.

As if the answer had already occurred to him… and he was praying it wasn’t true.

Thank You for Reading Chapter 14: Finally, the Truth We Were Waiting For

The prophecy has begun to stir.
The edges are fraying.
And for the first time, they are starting to see her.  Not just as Max, but as something they may not be able to stop.

If you felt uneasy by the end, that was no accident.
Eric’s gaze carried more than worry.
Neil’s silence spoke more than he revealed.
And the name “The Breath” will not be easily forgotten.