Lord of the realm

In the mansion's rear courtyard, surrounded by carefully tended gardens and older oak trees, a young woman sat in a perfect meditation pose. Her beautiful facial features were relaxed and calm.

Her name was Rena, and she was one of the most promising students the Illumariti Coven had seen in generations.

She was perhaps twenty years old, with long auburn hair that caught fire in the morning light and skin that seemed to glow with inner health. But it was her eyes that truly marked her as special—they were a deep violet color, shot through with flecks of gold that seemed to move and dance when she used her power.

Around her, the air shimmered with barely visible energy. She had been practicing since before dawn, working to master the final techniques that would elevate her from a mere Origin user to something far more significant.

The Illumariti called it being "Originshaped"—a state where the power no longer simply flowed through you but actually became part of your essential being.

Rena was on the very edge of that transformation, and everyone in the coven knew it.

As she meditated, three figures made their way through the mansion's front gates and across the manicured grounds toward the courtyard.

Two were men of different ages, and the third was a woman whose presence seemed to command attention without effort.

The younger of the two men was tall and lean, with the kind of sharp features that suggested intelligence and determination. His dark hair was kept short in the practical style favored by those who spent their time studying rather than preening, and his grey eyes held depths that spoke of wisdom beyond his years.

Beside him walked the older man, wearing a black iron suit. A long sword at his waist.

The third member of their group was the one who drew the most attention, though she walked quietly behind the two men. She had made her way into the mansion, leaving the two men.

She had been gone from the Illumariti mansion for six months, vanishing without explanation in the middle of the night. Now she had returned, and her presence sent ripples of excitement and concern through every member of the coven who spotted her.

"Rena," Taeryn called out as they approached the meditating figure.

The young woman's violet eyes snapped open, and immediately the energy that had been swirling around her dissipated like morning mist.

When she saw who had called her name, her face lit up with genuine joy and surprise.

"Taeryn!" she exclaimed, rising gracefully from her meditation pose and hurrying toward her old friend.

They embraced warmly, and for a moment they were just two young people happy to be reunited after months of separation.

But then Rena's gaze fell on the other figure, and her expression grew more serious.

She knew Darian, of course.

She asked him, "Did she come too?"

Rena hadn't seen them since they left her in the coven, and it had been more than six months, and Taeryn was already looking like a changed man.

-

Inside the mansion itself, word of the arrivals had already spread through the corridors like wildfire.

In the main chamber, where the most important decisions of the coven were made, the sisters had gathered in unprecedented numbers.

The room was circular, with high windows that let in streams of golden sunlight.

The walls were lined with shelves containing books and artifacts, remnants of knowledge gathered over centuries of study and practice.

In the center of the room was a raised platform where a single chair had been placed – the seat of the Coven Mistress.

The woman who occupied that chair was old even by the standards of her Witch sisters. Her hair was white as fresh snow, and her skin was marked with the fine lines that spoke of countless years spent in the pursuit of wisdom. But her eyes were still sharp and bright, missing nothing as she surveyed the assembled coven.

Before her stood Morgana, returned at last from her mysterious journey.

She wore the traditional white robes of the Illumariti, but hers were trimmed with silver thread that caught and reflected the light in unusual ways. Around her wrists she wore the bone bangles that marked her rank within the coven – fragments of dragon bone that had been carved with symbols of power and bound with silver wire.

Every member of the coven wore such bangles, for dragon bone was one of the few substances that could focus and amplify Origin power without being consumed by it. The number and size of the bangles indicated the individual's rank and abilities—acolytes wore simple bands, while masters like Morgana sported elaborate collections that chimed softly when she moved.

"Morgana," the Coven Mistress said, her voice carrying the weight of authority earned through decades of leadership.

"You return to us after six months of silence. Explain yourself."

Morgana bowed deeply, her bangles creating a musical sound as they touched together. "Forgive me, Mistress Elara. My departure was necessary, though I know it caused concern among our sisters."

"Concern?" Elara's eyebrows rose slightly. "Child, we feared you were dead. Or worse, captured by those who would use our secrets against us."

"My mission was one of utmost secrecy," Morgana replied, straightening from her bow.

"I have been searching for the chosen three. And I have already brought Rena here, as she is one of them."

As soon as she said them, there was a surprised gasp from all the sisters present in the room.

Every Coven knew about the divination of the new Chosen, and a lot of them are searching for them, and now Morgana was telling them that one of them was right here all along.

One of the sisters said out loud, "How could you not tell us?"

"We thought she was just a talent you could pick out."

"This is a treason against the Coven, Sister Morgana."

All of them were continuously shouting at Morgana, and she was standing, staring at Elara.

The mistress stared at Morgana with a calm expression.