CHAPTER 254: DISPLAY

The circle was intricate, complex, covered in symbols that even non-mages recognized as fire glyphs.

The kind of markings that appeared in children’s cautionary tales about forbidden magic, about power that corrupted, about flames that consumed everything including their masters.

Reader, even the most magically illiterate noble in that chamber knew they were looking at something forbidden. Something dark. Something that should not exist in civilized empire.

But what drew every eye, what made the chamber collectively inhale, was what lay pinned in the circle’s center like a trophy.

A piece of jewelry.

Gold chain, delicate and expensive. And suspended from it, catching light like captured flame, a fire opal pendant. The stone glowed with internal heat, orange and red and gold swirling together in patterns that seemed almost alive.

Eris’s style. Eris’s colors. Eris’s stone.

Unmistakably hers.

A man stepped forward from behind the evidence board, dressed in scholar’s robes of deep purple trimmed with silver... the colors of the Imperial Magical Academy. He bowed first to Soren, then turned to address the room with practiced authority.

"I am Magister Caelus, Court Mage and licensed investigator." His voice carried the dry precision of someone who’d spent decades studying rather than practicing.

"We discovered this circle in an unused section of the palace, near the guest quarters."

Everyone knew which guest quarters he meant. Where Eris stayed.

He walked around the board, one hand trailing along its edge like a guide showing artifacts in a museum of horrors.

"These markings," he pointed to specific symbols, "correspond to incendiary spellwork. Specifically, demon summoning of the highest order. Not minor conjuration or simple fire manipulation, but the kind of magic that tears holes between realms."

His finger traced patterns that hurt to follow.

"The scorch depth is consistent with fire-mage casting. High-level. Ancient power channeled through mortal hands." He paused at areas where the wood was darkest. "The blood patterns indicate sacrifice. Multiple victims. Ten at minimum, based on volume and distribution."

The room grew colder, but not from Soren’s ice magic. From horror creeping into noble hearts.

Caelus’s voice dropped lower, becoming almost reverent in its grimness.

"We found remains. In a hidden chamber below where this circle was drawn. Ten bodies, prisoners taken from the imperial dungeons." He swallowed visibly.

"They’d been drained of their blood to death. Then burned afterward with what appears to be divine fire, as though someone wanted to... purify the evidence."

He looked directly at Eris, and reader, his meaning was clear as crystal, sharp as accusation.

"Something that can only be the doing of two or more skilled mages."

The implication crashed through the chamber like an avalanche. Not just Eris. Eris and Soren. The future empress and the emperor himself, conspiring in blood magic and murder.

Some nobles gasped. Others went pale. A few looked ready to flee.

Caelus picked up the pendant with gloved hands, holding it aloft so light caught the fire opal, made it glow like a captured star.

"This pendant was found in the circle’s exact center. Still warm when we arrived, as if recently used in the ritual itself." He turned it slowly, showing all angles. "It bears Lady Eris’s personal seal on the clasp. The Igniva house crest, unmistakable and authentic."

Everyone could see it. The stylized flame wrapping around a crown, the motto beneath in Old Flame-tongue. Undeniably hers.

The room exploded.

Nobles shouting over each other, voices rising in cacophony of accusation and horror.

The gallery erupted, courtiers screaming, some crying, others calling for immediate justice.

"Witch!"

"Murderess!"

"Demon-summoner!"

"She killed prisoners!"

"The Emperor is compromised!"

"Enchanted!"

Soren stood, and when he spoke, his voice didn’t just carry, it dominated.

"SILENCE!"

Ice magic amplified the command, made it reverberate through stone and bone alike. The temperature plummeted thirty degrees in seconds. Frost formed on every surface, crept up walls, crystallized the very air.

The room fell instantly, terrifyingly quiet.

Everyone felt the emperor’s fury, barely contained beneath imperial control. Felt how close he was to letting winter itself loose in this chamber, to freezing every voice that dared accuse his chosen bride.

Eris walked forward toward the evidence board.

Every eye tracked her movement. Guards tensed, hands moving to weapon hilts. Nobles leaned back in their seats as though she might burst into flame at any moment.

She ignored them all.

Instead, she studied the circle closely, minutely, her head tilting as she examined symbols and patterns and burn marks. Her fingers traced lines without quite touching them, reading the magic like text.

Then she laughed.

Soft, genuine, deeply amused.

The sound was so unexpected, so inappropriate, that it shocked the chamber into even deeper silence.

"This is," she turned to face the room, smile sharp enough to cut glass, "embarrassingly amateur."

Vetra’s expression flickered. Just briefly. Just enough.

"If I were to summon demons, and I’m not saying I did... but if I did..." Eris walked around the board, pointing out details with the casual authority of an expert explaining children’s mistakes. "It would actually work."

She stopped at one symbol, indicating it with one finger.

"This glyph here is for containment. For keeping summoned entities bound within specific boundaries." Her finger moved to another marking. "But this one is for release. For setting them free, giving them autonomy." She looked at Magister Caelus directly. "They contradict each other. Cancel each other out. Did you notice that when you examined this so-called evidence?"

His face reddened.

"And this line—" she traced a pattern that spiraled inward, "—is backward. Completely reversed. Would actually trap the caster inside the circle rather than summoning anything from outside." Her smile widened. "Whoever drew this must have been copying from a text they couldn’t actually read."

She moved to the scorched areas, running her fingers across blackened wood without fear, without hesitation.

"These scorch marks were made after the circle was drawn. Not during any actual casting." She pointed to where burn patterns overlapped chalk lines.

"See how they cross the symbols? Real demonic burns follow the magic’s pattern, are contained by the circle’s structure. This?" She gestured dismissively.

"Someone took a torch to this board after drawing the symbols, trying to make it look used."

Nobles leaned forward despite themselves, fascinated by the technical dissection.

"The aging is artificial." Eris brushed her fingers together, showing residue. "Real demonic burns leave sulfurous ash, crystallized magic residue, sometimes fragments of the demons themselves if the summoning was violent. This is lamp oil and common ash. The kind you’d find in any kitchen."

She walked to areas stained with dried blood, kneeling to examine them more closely.

"The blood patterns are interesting because they’re three different types." She touched one dark stain, then another, then a third. "Human blood here. Animal blood there. And this—" she rubbed a spot between finger and thumb, "—is paint. Red pigment mixed with wine, probably, to get the right consistency."

Murmurs spread through the chamber. Some shocked, some thoughtful, some beginning to look at the evidence with new suspicion.

"Whoever staged this used three sources because they didn’t have enough real blood for a convincing circle of this size." Eris stood, brushing her hands clean.

"Amateur mistake. Real blood magic requires consistent source material. Mixing types disrupts the sympathetic connections necessary for high-level summoning."

She turned to face the room fully, arms crossed, expression somewhere between amused and insulted.

"A demon summoning of this magnitude requires specific components. Exact measurements. Perfect timing aligned with celestial movements. Ritual preparation that takes days to complete properly."

She gestured at the board dismissively. "This circle wouldn’t summon a minor imp, let alone hundreds of demons strong enough to tear through imperial wards."

Then she looked directly at Vetra, and reader, her smile turned absolutely devastating.

"If you wanted to frame me... you should have at least learned how my kingdom’s magic actually works." A pause, perfectly timed. "This is frankly embarrassing for everyone involved. Especially—" her gaze slid to Magister Caelus, "—your so-called expert."

The Court Mage looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him.

Eris picked up the pendant from the board’s center, holding it up so light caught the fire opal, made it glow like captured sunrise.

"This is indeed mine," she said, not denying the obvious. "I lost it three days ago. Reported the loss to palace security immediately."

She looked at Soren. He nodded once, confirming.

"Interesting how it appeared here so conveniently, in the exact center of a fake summoning circle designed to implicate me." She let the pendant dangle from her fingers, spinning slowly.

"Almost as if someone took something I’d reported missing and placed it deliberately as evidence. Which, I believe, is called ’fabrication’ in legal proceedings."

She dropped the pendant back onto the board with a soft clink.

"Is this the best you can do?" The question was directed at Vetra but meant for everyone. "Fake scorch marks? Mixed blood types? Contradictory symbols? A conveniently placed piece of jewelry that’s been publicly reported missing?"

She shook her head. "I expected better from the high and haughty nobiles of Nevareth. This is the kind of amateur frame-job that wouldn’t fool a first-year magical academy student."

Silence.

Heavy, suffocating silence as nobles processed what they’d just witnessed. As they realized the "damning evidence" had been torn apart like wet parchment by the very person it was meant to condemn.

Vetra’s mask slipped.

Just for a moment. Just long enough.

Her eyes went cold, calculating, murderous. The grief, the concern, the maternal worry... all of it dissolved to reveal something harder, sharper, infinitely more dangerous underneath.

Reader, the game had just changed.

And neither side was backing down.