CHAPTER 68: _ THE AWAKENING CEREMONY (ALPHA’S VERDICT)

The hall stills instantly. Dozens of heads swivel in his direction. The air hums with shock because Amias never—never... inserts himself into anyone else’s affairs. He’s the cold one. The detached one. The one who watches from the shadows, calculates, and speaks only when it suits him.

Yet here he is, standing, voice ringing across the stage like a blade drawn.

"If her strength hasn’t been gauged," he continues, pulse hammering, "then sending her into the labyrinth is reckless. She should be excluded until it is understood. You can’t gamble with her life because you’re curious about an anomaly."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Daphne’s mouth drops open, her painted lips forming a perfect ’O’ of outrage. Morgan and Grayson exchange a look of pure astonishment, their brows lifting as though they’ve just witnessed the sun rise in the west. Even Darien turns his head slowly, eyes narrowing with surprise.

Vark’s voice is smug in his mind. "Well, well, well. Look who couldn’t keep his composure. You exposed us, Amias. And for her. That only makes it more interesting..."

Amias ignores him, though his stomach knots tightly. He hadn’t planned to speak. He hadn’t even thought it through. But the words are out now, hanging in the air like sparks waiting to ignite the powder keg that is this hall.

The silence that follows Amias’s voice isn’t silence at all. It’s a vacuum. A terrible, breathless absence of sound that makes every shuffle, every cough, every panicked heartbeat in the hall magnify into thunder. For a moment, the school itself seems to tilt, like the building is caught off guard along with its inhabitants.

The management freezes in a tableau of wide eyes and stiff spines. Masters and matrons who once puffed their chests now gape like fish abandoned on a riverbank. A few look at Amias as if he’s suddenly sprouted horns; others look as if they’ve been struck across the face.

The headmaster, Halric, recovers first—if a jerky stumble counts as recovery. He clears his throat twice, as if his lungs are protesting against being in the same room as Amias’s defiance. His fingers drum nervously on the lectern, a soft clack-clack-clack against wood betraying the tremor in his hands.

"Um... of course," he says, the words coming too quickly. "What I meant, naturally, was that such matters should always consider the... eh... opinions of the entire student body. Yes, yes, democracy, unity, all that." He waves a hand vaguely, nearly knocking over his water glass. "But since you, Mr. Bellamy, have spoken, then clearly, yes, yes, she will not be joining the labyrinth."

Murmurs burst to life immediately, swelling like bees stirred in their hive. Some cheer quietly even though they don’t care much for Heidi, but for Amias. Others mutter in disbelief. A group of younger girls clasp hands. Boys in the back elbow each other, faces split with grins as they’d never seen someone defy the headmaster, let alone win.

And Heidi? She stands rooted to the stage, pallid, breath trapped between her ribs. The weight on her chest loosens at the news like a rope slackening. Amias sees her blinking rapidly, disbelieving, as though the floor might crack open at any second and reveal the joke.

Vark is less cautious now. "Ha! Did you see their faces? You’ve turned the entire school into a herd of startled sheep. Baa, baa, little lambs—Amias has spoken." He snickers, his wolfish delight flooding Amias’s mind.

Amias doesn’t answer. His throat feels scorched and his tongue is heavy. He’s still not entirely convinced he actually said the words. They hang there, echoing in his skull, his voice replaying like some stranger’s. He feels unmoored, dragged into deep water. His hands twitch at his sides, itching to undo what’s been done.

What has he done?

He doesn’t even believe in distractions. Or attachments.

And yet...

Before the thought can harden, a figure bustles onto the stage. A thin man with spectacles sliding off his nose, and a suit too big for his frame, scuttles up to the headmaster like a rat darting through shadows. He bends low, whispering furiously into Halric’s ear, every syllable obviously sharp enough to tighten the headmaster’s jaw.

The murmurs rise again. Students crane necks, whisper to neighbors, trying to decipher the message by the color draining from Halric’s face. Teachers shift in their seats, their self-righteous stares replaced by unease.

Even Corvin stills, for once not finding a quip. His round eyes narrow, his staff tapping against the floor like a heartbeat.

Amias feels Vark prick up inside him, hackles raised. "What is this now? That whisper smelled like trouble. And not the kind you can chew through with teeth."

Halric straightens slowly, like a man climbing back onto stilts after nearly falling. He clears his throat, louder this time, forcing a smile that looks more like a grimace. His voice, when it comes, is coated in a false confidence.

"Well," he announces, tone booming too much, "as it happens, I have just received a communiqué. Yes, yes—hot off the wire, straight from the Alpha himself."

The Alpha...

Amias wonders what the man could have said to his buddy, Halric, to render him this disoriented. However, he has a wild guess.

Maybe something like: Why allow Amias shake you? He’s the least of my sons allowed to make a demand.

And Halric, knowing how dangerous Amias can be must be caught between the two authorities. However, as expected, the Alpha’s wish is supreme...

At least, that’s Amias’s guess. He hates that the Alpha does whatever to sabotage his own plans. As long as it’s him and not the rest of the Bellamy kids, the opinion would be vetoed.

Right now, the room is going still. The word Alpha strikes the students like a lash, silencing them mid-breath. Even the bravest gossips clamp mouths shut, eyes flicking wide and waiting.

Halric puffs up, savoring the moment like a man about to drop a boulder on an anthill. "The Alpha has made his will known."