The velvet room is excruciatingly quiet, each tightened exhale audible around the course of the jasper table. December can't bring himself to glance at Abrahm sat by his side, nor can he focus on Ryder's deepening breaths beside him. He can only focus on Wren laid against the velvet floor with Celeste by his side. The sweat that drips down his brow and plasters his hair to his forehead, the way his eyes flicker beneath closed lids and thick lips tremble in the slightest. There's a visible pain written across his twitching features though his body lays unconscious and limp in Celeste's arms.
"You." It's the sound of an immeasurable anger, a frustration that bleeds through each syllable mangled with a pain that threatens to escape gritted teeth and a tight locked jaw. "You tortured him." Ryder's voice is too low, the words shaking in the slightest with each rapid breath he draws. "I-"
His gaze is empty, eyes glassed over and void of emotion as he stares at his reflection cast in the milky table before him. It's as if he's attempting to calm himself, attempting to still his feral breaths and racing thoughts as he digs his nails into each palm over and over until blood speckles the peachy flesh.
The action happens too quickly, December unable to react before Ryder is reaching across the jasper table, hands locked tight around Abrahm's throat though the boy merely grins against the action.
"That's quite enough, Ryder." The scratching voice calls out towards the trio. Miraculously, it's enough to make Ryder pause and back away from Abrahm still grinning before him, hand rubbing away at the mark left on his throat.
It's too late, however, the room having already fallen into disarray as voices overlap one another in continuous disagreement. English mixes with Shėä as the council continues to fight amongst one another about the events they were all forced to witness.
"Did you know those memories were in there?" A voice screams above the crowd. It seems to belong to Celeste, the way her brows furrow in frustration and grip tightens around Wren draped in her arms, the fae only now waking up from the noise. "Elchanan!" She yells once more until the cloaked figure slowly turns her way. "Did you know that those memories were there? Why did you let him do this, do you know how dangerous this was? It's a miracle he didn't have an aneurysm."
The cloaked figure, Elchanan it seems, merely turns away from the girl laid on the floor, fabric draped hands falling behind his back as he lets out a raspy exhale that silences the room. "Witch, it is your job as his doctor to ensure procedures like this do not harm him. Any casualties would have been no one's fault except your own. Now," he draws the word out slowly, cloaked head tilting in the slightest as he crosses the room in two long strides. "The Order must come to a decision."
The figure pauses in front of Ryder still flustered from the previous fight, their bodies only separated by the slab of gemstone between them. Even with the barrier the figure feels too close, his presence overwhelming this close up. Laggardly, the figure raises his cloaked arm until the fabric slips away to reveal a hellish hand. It's skin is a sickly grey tone, raised green veins painted against the flesh that slips beneath the shadows of his black cloak. His fingers are slender and twice the length of their own as the flesh tapers into exaggerated black claws. The hand opens and encases Ryder's face, claws scraping against his forehead as blood trickles from the impact point.
"Human Ryder, it is seen you had no knowledge of the actions taken against Wren. Admirably, you stood by him though it meant the betrayal of your own kind." He detaches the hand from Ryder's face, the boy's eyes wide as he stumbles backwards in a brief panic. "Though your powers prove weak, I permit your request to become the High Priest in hopes that you may prove yourself to be useful in the end."
As the figure turns to December he freezes, his presence alone enough to force every cell in his body into a panic. The fear that courses through him feels almost instinctual, the way his body begs him to turn away though he stays trapped in place, eyes widening in fear as the grey hand raises before him. His fear only increases at the sight of the hand, claws beginning to encase him as the center of the palm opens to reveal a singular bloodied eye. Thick surgical thread overlaps the eye embedded within the palm, it's citron pupil rapidly darting back and forth as it scans December's features.
December hadn't noticed the breath he'd been holding, a heavy exhale leaving him with the withdrawal of the claw. He wipes away the blood that spots his forehead, body trembling in the slightest from the encounter.
"Human December, your sins weigh on you heavily. Though you were the one to enslave Wren, you had no knowledge of his subsequent torture committed by your subordinates. You feel a guilt because of this. The Īlöt rules in favor of your freedom only under the condition that you will work with the witch, Celeste. Regrettably, you are the only one who knows what was injected into the bėlä, meaning you are to resume your role as his doctor. I will hear no protest of this ruling from any party involved."
He leaves no room for disagreements, rather immediately turning to Abrahm now surrounded by bodies. Abrahm doesn't protest as they bound his arms, the spell glimmering as it constricts against his wrist.
"Demon Abrahm, you are to be sent to the palace dungeon until we can consider a proper ruling for you. While The Order heavily favors the option of execution, you hold valuable knowledge that cannot be wasted by your death."
"Now," the figure turns to the duo on the floor once more, cloaked head downcast as he glances at Wren from the shadows. "regarding the Blood Fae, Wren. It's clear that you still struggle with the hardships and trauma you endured during your time at Haven. You're in no condition to lead your people, leaving us no choice but to rule in favor of Sasha retaining his regency. We will leave it up to you rather you would like to disclose this information to your people."
There's no emotion in the figure's voice, expression hidden by his cloak and any inflection disguised behind his scratching voice as he continues his ruling. "Additionally, we have made the decision to turn a blind eye to your blatant disobedience of the Fae Purity Law. Regardless of whether the relation was consensual is irrelevant to the situation, by law you should face execution for your actions. However, the current threat of Haven is too overwhelming to consider raising a new king in your place, this is the only reason that we have spared your life.
"We have also decided to decline your request to have these memories removed. It's too much of a risk on the collective consciousness of the king's line to even entertain the idea of memory removal. However, we wish you well in your healing, Wren."
Wren doesn't answer, rather shutting his eyes against the room as the council begins to trickle out. The Īlöt is one of the last to leave, their bodies moving in unison as they exit the velvet room, a heaviness lifting with their departure. Only a few bodies remain, a dust settling in the room alongside the silence the Īlöt had left behind in their absence.
Ryder is the first to move, body dropping to the floor as he makes his way towards Wren laid against the velvet. In silence he holds the fae tight against his chest, a hand coming up to pet down his curls as Wren falls stiffly into his embrace.
Everything that you have endured, you will be forced to withstand once more.
Elchanan's words play throughout December's mind as he stares at the two boys locked onto one another. Wren's body is too limp, arms dead at his side as he stares into a far off distance. His skin has faded to a deathly white, veins visible against rice paper skin that traces his flesh, wrapping around each bluish fingernail that twitches by his side.
Without thinking, December joins them in the center of the room, body on autopilot as he detaches Ryder's grip from the fae. "There's a chance he might be going into shock." He answers before Ryder can protest, laying the fae onto the ground as Celeste joins at his side.
Her hand falls along Wren's forehead before checking his pulse, eyes bouncing from Ryder to December then back again. She doesn't speak, rather ignoring the presence of the two boys altogether as her hands hover the length of Wren's body with a soft glow.
"Did you really not know?" Ryder whispers under his breath, eyes downcast and filled with worry as they trace Wren's paling face. "December, if you knew about this I swear." His voice breaks midway, only a strained syllable forcing its way out his tightly closed throat.
This is why Wren had warned him in the cave. The reason he had asked for December's exact involvement during his time at Haven. The reason he had attempted to kill both December and Abrahm at the entrance of the woodline the day of their escape. The pain in his eyes as he slit their throats, his reluctance to take the two with them into the Magie.
Wren kept silent the entire time, traveled and slept next to the man who tortured him every night for three months without saying a word. He played as if everything were alright, as if the only inconvenience he had faced was the added responsibility of dragging two more humans through the woods.
Human or not, December can't avoid the pain the idea brings him, the silent suffering Wren endured all this time. The suffering he endures even now, forced to relive each cut of the knife pressed against his paling flesh.
"I didn't know, Ryder." December's tone is dead, voice monotone and empty as he stares at the boy laid against the velvet. "I-I-" He can't find the words, lips trembling though he bites them back, stilling himself with a deep breath though his hands betray him with each quiver.
"He seems to be stable now but he needs to be taken to the office to make sure." It's the first time Celeste's speech has fallen soft, body slouched over Wren's before cradling her face within her hands. There's no tears, just a frustrated silence as painted nails dig into black hair. "God help us." She mumbles into her palms before steadily rising to her feet with an irritated groan. "December, grab Wren and follow me. Ryder, find Jax then meet us in the office downstairs." With that she's gone, leaving the cousins alone in the velvet room with Wren unconscious between them.
"Ryder, I-"
"Don't." He bites back, jaw locked tight as he swallows the venom threatening to spill over. "December, is this really who you are? Is that really who your friends are?" He scoffs, hand dragging through his hair in frustration before picking himself off the ground, back turned and fists balled into the sleeve of his robes as he spouts three words that leave December broken against the velvet floor.
"I hate you."