The Weight of New Bonds

[Nora Saint-Clair]

The adrenaline from the Ceremony of Reflection had long since faded, leaving behind the crushing, dull ache of simple exhaustion. She’d eaten a bowl of warm soup in the Sanctuary’s refectory, fueled more by necessity than appetite. Now, all she wanted was the familiar, slightly chaotic warmth of the safehouse she shared with Claude.

The Sanctuary’s towering building receded behind her, a mass of cold, heavy stone against the city scape. She could still feel the residual hum of a constant, low-frequency buzz in the pit of her stomach from the ceremony. The day had been an intense performance, a tightrope walk between feigned devotion and calculated study.

Ember. The title felt silly on her, yet the commitment felt strangely solid. She frowned, tucking her free hand deeper into the pocket of her charcoal coat. All the chanting, the solemn rituals, the ridiculous, flowery pronouncements about the ego and the Veil Explained. It was all nonsense, a framework for control. And yet…

She remembered the moment in the Chamber, kneeling before the dark water. When Seraphis had forced her to confront her arrogance, the conviction that she could succeed alone, the feeling had been terrifyingly real. It wasn't the mysticism that convinced her, but the psychological precision. If the Brotherhood was this adept at cutting through a person’s defenses and finding a lever, then their power was less about divine light and more about human manipulation. It was unsettling, but also, grudgingly, intriguing. She wasn’t that good of an actress; to have survived the ceremony, she must have believed the core truth, even if she dressed it up in a lie about faith.

She pulled out her Wallet, the glow of the screen a stark, cold blue against the dark street.

A message from Claude: “Hope all is well, Sis!”

She quickly tapped out a reply with stiff fingers. “Good. On my way back. See you soon.” Almost instantly, another bubble followed her first message. “Are you even there?”

Nora waited, staring at the screen for a response while her thoughts drifted back to the last conversation she'd had with Seraphis, just before she’d left. Nora had been straightforward, asking if she could simply stay at the Sanctuary. It would make her cover and training infinitely easier.

Seraphis had been surprised. “Embers are not usually invited to take up permanent residence, Nora. Their duty is to carry the spark outward.” But Seraphis, ever the eager functionary, had promised to inquire, citing Nora's eagerness and remarkable potential.

The answer, delivered ten minutes later, had been a flat denial. No reason given.

“It is not unsurprising,” Seraphis had admitted, a rare flicker of something like disappointment crossing her face. “Typically, only established Aethermancers, the Veilwardens and those above are permitted to live on the grounds. But you have that potential. And certainly, once you reach the rank of Novam, the Luminar himself would have to consider it.”

The Luminar. The great unseen leader. Nora had heard this word half a dozen times today. The final authority, the man whose approval was the currency of the Brotherhood. And he was the one who had, without a word, denied shelter to a dedicated new member.

He sounds like an arrogant bastard, Nora thought. To have such control, to inspire such zealous loyalty in people like Seraphis, yet to be too important to even grant a reason for a simple refusal. It was the petty kind of aloofness that Nora despised. If you want zealous converts, you don't turn away the most eager ones. You exploit them.

Claude's response made her smile, forgetting about the Luminar. It was like he could read her mind.

“I am - are you hungry?”

"STARVING"

“Then a hot meal will be awaiting you when you arrive!”

"NOM NOM NOM"