Gabella, the imperial capital.
Night had fallen deep. The Hall of Echoes at the headquarters of the Secret Art Society was so quiet that the faint rustle of parchment edges turning could be heard. Ten blackstone high seats formed a circle, while the air carried the mixed scents of herbs, old books, and a faint trace of sulfur.
The ten mages took their seats one after another.
At the head sat Doughty Matt—the actual leader of the Secret Art Society and the most powerful person beneath Emperor Antonio. He wore no luxurious robes, only a dark-gray outfit. His expression was calm, and his eyes were sharp.
The first seat on the left belonged to Enoch Christopher. The old man hunched over, his bald head taking on a bluish sheen in the dim light, while his eye sockets were so deep they resembled two black holes. The hem of his robe was stained with dried blood and unidentified medicinal dregs, and his fingers twitched from time to time. No one wanted to sit beside him—a necromancer who dealt with corpses and poisons all day, whose very breath carried a sinister aura.
On the right sat Mariana. She was wrapped in a dark-purple cloak, her graceful figure half-hidden behind a veil. She sat as quietly as a statue. She was widely acknowledged as a top master of Fire Magic, but lately she had been speaking less and less. Every so often, her gaze drifted away, as if she were lost in thought.
Three seats stood on either side, occupied by six highly experienced elders: Vilan Thorne, Helga Blackwood, Marcus Raven, Grim Gavin, Sebastian Cole, and Duke Mason. Every one of them was a veteran Spellcaster who had worked in the Secret Art Society for decades.
The final two seats belonged to the