Far from the metal and stone halls of the Mystic Pheonix Academy, the Grand Cathedral pierced the sky. It was the heart of the nation's capital, a city of pristine white avenues and gleaming towers untouched by the soot and fear of the frontier. Here, power wasn't measured in the strength of your fists, but in the weight of your words.

And no one's words carried more weight than Cardinal Evangeline's.

Her office was at the very top of the Cathedral's central spire, a circular room with a massive stained-glass window depicting the World Dragon breathing life into the first Elites.

The air smelled of old books, beeswax, and faint, sweet incense.

Cardinal Evangeline sat behind a desk carved from a single piece of polished wood. She was an older woman, her face framed by silver hair, but her eyes were as sharp and clear as a winter morning. She calmly took a sip from a porcelain teacup as the door to her office opened.

Thump. Thump.

Inquisitor Theron entered. His usual storm of fury was gone, replaced by a strange confusion that sat awkwardly on his powerful frame. He looked like a storm cloud that had forgotten how to rain.

"Theron," Evangeline said, her voice smooth. "You seem… troubled. Did the heretic prove difficult?"

Theron stood stiffly before her desk. "He was not a heretic, Your Eminence. But… he was not holy, either." He struggled to find the words, his brow furrowed in frustration. "I have faced demons that laugh in the face of blessed fire. I have fought corrupted beasts that eat holy light for breakfast. I have never faced… this."

Evangeline set her cup down with a soft clink.

"Explain."

"The creature he created… it was not a weapon. It was… peaceful," Theron said, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "When I prepared to pass judgment, it unleashed its power. But it was not an attack. It was… calm. It smothered my anger. I could not draw my sword. I could not even bring myself to hate him."

He looked deeply disturbed. "The boy claimed he was fulfilling a promise to a dying soul. He stood before me without fear. He simply… was."

Evangeline listened, her expression unreadable. She tapped a slender finger on her desk. A creature that could pacify the Grand Inquisitor himself? A boy with a power so unique it defied classification?

She recognized the danger immediately. A public trial based on Theron's confused testimony was a terrible idea. The boy and the Academy could spin it a dozen different ways. It could backfire, making the Church look foolish and starting a political war they might not win. A simple condemnation was too risky.

But… a creature that pacifies? That heals?

That was not a threat. That was an asset. A powerful one.

A calculating smile formed on Evangeline's lips, a smile that didn't quite reach her sharp eyes. She saw a path. Not to destroy the boy, but to own him. To co-opt his power for the glory and control of the Church.

"Theron," she said, her voice now with a holy warmth that chilled the Inquisitor. "You were right to be careful. You've found something truly important."

She stood and walked to the great window, looking down at the pristine city below. "The World Dragon works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this boy is not a heretic dabbling in forbidden arts. Perhaps he is a vessel. A miraculous gift sent to us in these dark times."

She turned back to him, her eyes gleaming with a cunning light. "We cannot condemn a miracle, Theron. We must embrace it. We must claim it."

She raised her voice, speaking to the empty air. "Scribe. Take this down."

A magical quill in the corner of the room floated to life, hovering over a fresh scroll.

"A formal decree, to be sent to the Headmaster of the Mystic Pheonix Academy and posted on all public mission boards," Evangeline dictated. "The Holy Church has learned of a young Elite blessed with a miraculous gift. We have heard tales of his great works. Therefore, we extend a holy invitation to this child, Jonah of Cinderfall."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"Let him come to the Grand Cathedral, where he may receive the Cardinal's personal blessing. Let him stand before the faithful and demonstrate this divine power, so that all the nation may rejoice in the blessings the heavens have bestowed upon us!"

The quill scratched furiously, capturing every word. Theron's eyes widened as he understood. It wasn't an accusation. It was an invitation. A public, joyous invitation.

It was a perfect trap.

If the Academy refused, they would be insulting the Church and hiding their "miracle worker," making them look suspicious and guilty.

If they accepted, they would have to deliver their most valuable student right into the heart of the Cathedral. They would be putting Jonah on a stage, but the Church would own the theater.

Evangeline smiled. "Send it immediately."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back at the Academy, the Headmaster stared at the glowing scroll that had appeared on his desk. The elegant, flowing script was an iron fist wrapped in a silk glove.

He read it twice, a grim, weary look on his face. He had spent decades playing this political chess game with the Church. He knew exactly what this was.

"Caught," he muttered to himself. "Clever old fox."

He tapped a rune on his desk, sending out a summons.

A few minutes later, Jonah, Vanessa, and Seraph stood in his office. The mood was heavy. The news of the Inquisitor's abrupt departure had spread, but no one knew what it meant.

The Headmaster looked at Jonah, his eyes holding a mixture of pride and deep concern. He had protected this boy, invested in him, and now his greatest asset was about to become his greatest political liability.

He slid the glowing scroll across his desk for them to see.

"Well," the Headmaster said with a tired sigh, a hint of bitter humor in his voice. "It seems the Church wants to throw you a party."

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest. His expression turned deadly serious.

"It seems," he said grimly, "we're going to the capital."