SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 45: Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 45: Calm Before the Storm

The air in Katakwan’s castle was thick with unease. It had been days since Drace’s confession, yet neither Crimson nor Medas could wrap their minds around it. Crimson leaned against the council chamber’s wall, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. Medas sat at the head of the long table, his fingers steepled in front of him as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

"How," Crimson said at last, his voice sharp and cold, "does a boy decide to dismantle something as sacred as the awakening ceremony? And why?"

Medas sighed, his telekinetic energy faintly rippling around the room. "The ’how’ is clear—he’s no ordinary boy. But the ’why’... I can’t begin to fathom it."

Morvane, who stood near the far end of the room, finally spoke. "He already told us why." His tone was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. "He didn’t want those teens to unlock powers that could destroy them."

Crimson turned toward him, his eyes flashing with anger. "And what gives him the right to decide that? The awakening ceremony is not his to control!"

Morvane stepped forward, locking eyes with the warrior king. "Would you rather watch children tear themselves apart because they can’t control their gifts? You’ve seen it happen before, haven’t you? Powers that overwhelm them, that consume them."

Crimson’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Medas finally spoke, his voice heavy with thought. "Intentional or not, what he’s done has put us in a precarious position. The balance of power is shifting, and the other rulers will want answers."

"We need them here," Crimson said decisively. "They need to hear this from us before rumors start flying."

Medas nodded. "They’ll arrive soon."

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The rulers of the seven great kingdoms sat around the grand council table, their presence as imposing as their reputations. Crimson, ruler of Katakwan, leaned forward with his arms crossed, his piercing gaze fixed on Drace. His combat-hardened demeanor exuded an air of authority, and the tension in the room seemed to revolve around him.

To his right, Medas, ruler of Ketamran, sat in thoughtful silence. The faint hum of his telekinetic energy was barely perceptible, but it was there—a subtle reminder of his power. He studied Drace with a calm yet calculating gaze, as though weighing the boy’s every move.

Dergo, the massive ruler of a strength-driven kingdom, broke the silence first. "This is a betrayal of the natural order," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "He’s undermined the very foundation of our unity. Punishment is not just necessary—it’s justice."

Vianna of Nirvath arched a delicate brow, her voice dripping with disdain. "Justice? This boy has upset the balance of power in ways we can’t yet comprehend. If we let him walk free, what message does that send to our people? Actions like his deserve the ultimate price."

Ikana of Vragal, leaning back in her chair with a mischievous smirk, added, "It’s not just about punishment—it’s about ensuring he doesn’t become a bigger threat. Letting him live is a gamble I’m not sure we can afford."

Deus of Gravion chuckled, his voice lazy but sharp. "Everyone’s so quick to pick up the sword. Maybe we should stop and think about how we can use him instead. He disrupted an ancient ceremony, after all. That takes a certain...resourcefulness."

Levan of Tervag tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Resourcefulness or not, his actions disrupted the competition among the young. How do we maintain order when someone like him undermines the very principles we stand for?"

The room erupted into a heated debate, voices clashing like a storm. Some argued for punishment, others for execution, and a few, like Deus, for a more pragmatic approach.

Through it all, Drace stood silent, his face pale but his back straight. He didn’t flinch, even as the rulers debated his fate.

Finally, Morvane rose from his seat, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Enough!"

The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward him.

"You’re all so focused on vengeance that you’re ignoring the bigger picture," Morvane said, his gaze sweeping across the table. "Yes, Drace disrupted the awakening ceremony. Yes, it was deliberate. But have you stopped to ask why?"

Crimson’s eyes narrowed. "We’ve heard his reasons. They don’t justify his actions."

"No," Morvane agreed, his voice steady. "But they do explain them. He acted out of fear—fear of what those powers could do to the teens who weren’t ready for them. He’s seen the destruction that unchecked power can bring, and he made a choice to prevent it."

Vianna crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "And that makes it acceptable?"

"It makes it understandable," Morvane replied. "And it means we shouldn’t be so quick to condemn him. Killing him won’t fix the imbalance. It won’t undo what’s been done. If anything, it will create more chaos."

Dergo frowned, his massive hands gripping the edge of the table. "Then what do you propose? Let him go unpunished?"

"No," Morvane said firmly. "He must answer for his actions. But punishment without understanding serves no one. We need to find out how his actions disrupted the ceremony—and how to fix it. Drace knows things we don’t. If we want to restore balance, we need his insight."

Medas nodded slowly, his telekinetic energy rippling faintly. "Morvane’s right. This isn’t the time for rash decisions. We’re dealing with forces we don’t fully understand. If we’re to set things right, we need to act carefully."

Crimson leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Very well. But if this boy’s actions lead to further disaster, the blame will fall on those who defended him."

"I’ll take that responsibility," Morvane said without hesitation.

The rulers exchanged glances, their unease evident. But one by one, they nodded in reluctant agreement.

Drace looked at Morvane, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope—a chance to make things right.

The storm was far from over, but now there was a path forward. One that depended on trust, cooperation, and the hope that they could weather the coming tempest together.

The room fell into tense silence as Morvane’s voice faded, the rulers reluctantly agreeing to hear Drace’s side before passing judgment.

Drace hesitated, his shoulders tense under the weight of their collective gaze. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, his voice trembling but resolute. "I sabotaged the awakening ceremony because I’ve seen what power can do—what my power has done."

The rulers exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism.

"My power," Drace continued, his voice quieter now, "manifests as bad luck. It’s not something I can control. It’s... it’s a curse. And it’s hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about."

He paused, swallowing hard. "When I wasn’t aware of my power, my parents... they died because of me. I’ve carried their deaths on my shoulders ever since."

A murmur rippled through the room, the weight of his confession settling over the rulers like a storm cloud.

"And it didn’t stop there," Drace said, his voice breaking slightly. "Even my dog—my best friend, the one who stayed by my side when no one else would—he died too. All because of me. Because of this curse."

He looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I didn’t sabotage the ceremony out of spite or malice. I did it because I didn’t want those teens to go through what I’ve been through. I didn’t want them to lose everything—everyone—because of powers they couldn’t control."

The room was silent, the rulers processing his words.

And then, a sharp, melodic laugh shattered the quiet.

Vianna leaned back in her chair, her expression one of amused disbelief. "So let me get this straight," she said, her laughter subsiding into a mocking smirk. "You’ve been wreaking havoc your entire life, and your solution to this... ’curse’ of yours is to deny others their chance at power? How... noble."

Her words dripped with sarcasm, and Drace flinched as if struck.

"Vianna," Medas said sharply, his calm demeanor giving way to a rare note of disapproval.

But Vianna wasn’t finished. "Oh, come on," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You’re all acting as if this boy is some tragic hero. He’s not. He’s a danger—to himself and everyone around him. And now, thanks to him, we’re all left to clean up the mess he’s made."

"Enough, Vianna," Crimson said, his tone commanding. "This isn’t the time for mockery."

Vianna rolled her eyes but said nothing further, though her smirk remained.

Drace’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t respond to her taunts. Instead, he looked to Morvane, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Morvane stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Drace’s shoulder. "His power is a burden, yes. But it’s also a reminder of why we need to guide those with abilities—not abandon them. Drace acted out of fear and pain, not malice. And if we can’t see that, then we’re no better than the chaos we’re trying to prevent."

The room fell silent once more, the rulers weighing Morvane’s words.

Drace took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not asking for forgiveness. I know what I did was wrong. But if there’s any way I can help fix this... I’ll do it. Just tell me what to do."

The tension in the room reached a boiling point as the rulers’ arguments escalated. Crimson’s booming voice drowned out the others. "This boy must face the consequences of his actions. A message must be sent that no one is above the law."

"I agree," Dergo growled, his massive hands slamming against the table. "His intentions don’t erase the damage he’s caused. Punishment is the only way to restore balance."

"Enough of this deliberation," Vianna said with a cold smile. "Why are we still talking? We all know he deserves to pay with his life."

Morvane stepped forward, his voice firm. "Punishment without understanding solves nothing. Drace’s actions weren’t born of malice but of fear. He’s a child—"

"Shut up!" Levan’s voice sliced through Morvane’s protest like a blade. His glare was sharp and unyielding. "Your constant defense of him only makes you complicit. Are you willing to gamble the safety of our kingdoms for the sake of a single boy?"

Morvane faltered, his words caught in his throat as the weight of their disdain bore down on him.

Drace, standing alone in the center of the room, clenched his fists. His gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of the rulers. Anger, fear, pity, and disdain—all of it directed at him.

"So, you’re going to punish me?" he said, his voice low but steady. "Kill me?"

No one answered. The silence spoke louder than words.

Drace chuckled bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. His expression shifted, a mysterious calm washing over his face. "It doesn’t matter what I say or do, does it? No matter how much I explain, no matter how much I regret, you’ll never see me as anything more than a threat."

His gaze turned cold, his eyes meeting each ruler’s in turn. "Fine. If that’s how you see me... then let me show you why you should be afraid."

Before anyone could react, Drace’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "All of you will run out of breath."

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to vanish. Crimson was the first to react, his hands clawing at his throat as he gasped for air. One by one, the rulers followed, their breaths hitching, their faces twisting in panic. Even Morvane, who had stood by Drace’s side, struggled to breathe, his knees buckling under the strain.

The suffocation lasted only 15 seconds, but in that short time, chaos erupted. Chairs toppled, fists pounded on the table, and gasps filled the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. The rulers inhaled deeply, the precious air filling their lungs once more.

Crimson, recovering first, slammed his fist on the table. "Where is he?" he roared, his voice a mix of fury and disbelief.

The room fell silent as everyone realized the same thing.

Drace was gone.