CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Weight of Pride
Jason leaned against the balcony rail, the violet twin moons fractured above him, their glow soft against the cold stone. The nightmare's echoes still coiled in his chest ..the flames, the screams, the molten-eyed figure smiling through the smoke.
He closed his eyes, exhaling once, letting the night air cool the heat in his blood.
When he turned back into the room, the bed was empty. The faint scent of her perfume still lingered in the sheets, a whisper of warmth fading into silence. He didn't bother searching for her.
Jason dressed without haste. He slid the silver-fastened belt into place, the metal gleaming in the moonlight, then adjusted the white robe of the Holy Sect over his shoulders. With practiced control, the molten glow in his eyes dimmed to a muted human shade ...a mask he had worn for years.
The east cloister was silent at this hour. Pillars rose like pale giants, their shadows stretching across the polished stone. Jason's footsteps made no sound as he moved through the hall, each stride steady, precise.
Ahead, a shape pulled itself from the shadows, cloaked in plain robes. A thin silver chain marked his rank, glinting faintly as he stepped into the moonlight.
"You kept me waiting," the man said. His voice was calm, carrying neither accusation nor warmth.
Jason didn't respond.
The man's hand moved in a silent gesture, summoning forth a bundle wrapped in silk. He stepped forward and presented it with a bow of the head. Jason took it, the fabric smooth against his fingers as he peeled it back.
Within lay a white-gold shaft, crowned with a crystal that fractured the moonlight into impossible shapes. The air seemed to bend around it, each breath subtly altered by its presence.
The Scepter of Pride.
"It is yours now," the man said. "But do not draw it in sight of the others unless you wish to invite questions you cannot answer."
Jason turned the scepter in his hands, feeling its weight, the low hum vibrating against his bones. The world around him seemed to shift, leaning toward him in quiet reverence.
"The mission?" Jason asked. His voice was quiet, steady.
"Unchanged," the man replied. "The Mirth Academy's trial is nothing more than a veil. Beneath it lies the true prize ..the Gluttony Core. You will reach it before they do."
Jason's gaze lifted from the scepter to the man's shadowed eyes. "And if they find it first?"
The man's lips curved faintly, his tone soft, almost reverent. "Then remind them why Belial's name was struck from every holy record."
A silence stretched between them, heavy with things neither would say aloud.
Jason gave no answer. He wrapped the scepter once more in silk, slid it beneath his robe, and moved past the man without another glance. His stride was unwavering, his figure swallowed by the cloister's long shadows.
Above, the fractured moons followed him, their light breaking against the gold hidden beneath his robe.
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