The next day, I was brought before the Council.

Ibis, Capra, and Lupa sat on their thrones. The speaker of ghosts, Vesta, stalked behind them, watching me silently.

In the chamber with me were Mal, Sam, Morgan, Gavin, and Merrill. All of us there to testify, to give our stories, that the Council might decide what must be done about the Unchosen.

“Begin, exile.”

The word stung, but it was warranted. I agreed to those terms when I ran away with her, after all. I spoke.

“A few weeks ago I heard that Gwyneth had been exiled for opening the Gate beneath the mountain. For a great many reasons, I decided to follow her into exile. Together we sailed to the heart of the dead empire, where a city full of ghosts greeted us. A mad emperor ruled a broken palace, and our attempts to access the Waters of Prophecy met with abject failure.

“The ghost emperor’s guards imprisoned us. In our cell, we were approached by a ghost who seemed more sane than the rest: Bellistrix Avicus Augustine, who told us to call her Strix. Strix helped us escape the palace, then stuck a bargain with Gwyn: Strix would help us build an army to storm the palace with, and we would help her forge a new kindred dynasty.

“Gwyn agreed readily, and Strix began grooming her to be the next Empress. We started recruiting the ghost nobility, and Strix taught Gwyn a magic art called glamour. On our second mission for Strix, we discovered her identity as First Consul of the empire’s ruling government, beholden only to Emperor Nero himself. We freed her conspirator and fellow Consul, Cossus. During the escape, while we traveled through the sewers, Gwyn vanished for a brief period. I now understand that she was speaking with a ghost warlock named Caligula.

“When we returned to Strix, Gwyn argued that we should take a more aggressive route with our coup. She took to the streets, spoke to a mob of nobility and commonfolk, and declared open war on Nero. With an army secured, we attacked the stronghold of one of Nero’s servants. There was victory, but at a cost Gwyn deemed unacceptable. She vanished again, spoke with Caligula, and returned with a brazen request.

“Gwyn ordered that Strix take her to the catacombs, to Caligula. Strix refused, and severed their partnership. Strix said that Caligula was dangerous, corruptive, and powerful. Gwyn didn’t care. I followed her to the catacombs, but I couldn’t let her go in. I pleaded with her to stop, to change her mind, to stray from this path, but she cast me aside. So I ran.”

For a long, dreadful moment, silence reigned as the court took in my story. In Sam and Mal I found sympathy; in Gavin and Merill, shock; in Morgan, broken grief; and in the Council, grim determination.

Capra said, “A dark tale. We have questions, of course, but first, context must be given. Vesta, if you would?”

The ghost nodded and began to speak. “I was there when the empire fell. Until today, I have refrained from speaking of those times. The founders of this enclave wished to destroy the sins of our past and build a brighter future. That, I now see, was a fool’s errand. The discovery of the empire was inevitable. Its rebirth, only hastened by my deceptions.

“In the last days, I and like-minded folk fled to this isle and took as many kindred as we could with us, and even kine. We sought to escape Nero’s madness, to survive the device he was rumored to have, and to build a different kind of civilization. Nero’s nobility were decadent, corrupt, and violent. But there were worse shadows that the empire had locked away.

“Caligula was a fairy tale in my time, but she certainly existed. The warlock who almost destroyed the empire from within, the warlock who knew forbidden magic. The ghost-eater. I do not know all her secrets, but she was certainly as dangerous as you have heard, Duncan. With Caligula’s magic, Gwyn will be a threat greater than any this island has faced.”

Ibis turned to Vesta and crossed her arms. “How? We have plenty of guards, the chantry has finally submitted to our authority. What is one woman to a legion?”

Vesta shook her head. “You don’t understand. It took the empire’s greatest soldiers and sorcerers to best Caligula, and as far as I’m aware she never even completed her final ritual. If Gwyneth is allowed to finish the warlock’s quest, she will be stronger still. Your forces are loyal, Ibis, but they are just a shadow of the empire’s might.”

Lupa waved a hand. “Cause for concern, certainly, but this girl’s story is unfinished. She hides her own part in it. Why did you not turn from the Unchosen sooner? And what made you think your words would carry any weight with that deranged psychopath?”

I felt a bit of resentment, but I squashed it. She was right. “I… I was in love with her. Or I used to be.”

Shock radiated from them. All but Mal and Sam, who just nodded somberly.

“I never wanted to be the Chosen, but I kept training because I hoped that Gwyn would notice me. She did, just not in the ways I wanted. When Morgan came to me and said he was going to appoint me the Chosen, I couldn’t take it. Running away with Gwyn felt like my last chance to have the kind of life I’d always dreamed of.

“I was wrong, obviously. I could see it in the capital, the true Gwyn, the barely-hiding monster and tyrant that craved only power. She never cared about us. She just wanted the power that came with being Chosen, with being worshiped. When she saw a chance for even greater power, she seized it instantly. First Strix’s offer of the throne, then whatever Caligula promised her.

“I… I wanted her to leave it all behind. To give me a chance. To be something other than a warrior. For a moment, I thought she might. But it was doomed from the start.”

They soaked it in. After a moment, Capra asked, “What of the Waters of Prophecy? How did they play into this?”

I laughed bitterly. “In awful ways. The Waters… deceived us. Gwyn took the last vial we had, and the two of us split it. It showed her a grand and glorious destiny, and it showed me what I wanted to see: a moment where I could change Gwyn from her path. It convinced Gwyn that going to the city was the right move, that the vision she’d seen long ago was correct.”

Vesta frowned. “Long ago?”

I nodded. “The chantry’s supply has dwindled over the years, but when Gwyn, Mal and I were training to be Chosen, Morgan took us to the chamber where it was kept. One by one, we drank. We never discussed what we saw with anyone except Morgan, but on our journey to the city, Gwyn shared her vision: statues in her honor, enemies lying bloody in an open field, and foreign worlds explored by kindred working in her name.”

The Council looked at Morgan sharply. Vesta demanded, “You’ve had more of that substance all this time, hidden away? If I had known, I could have cautioned you against trusting it.”

Morgan just stared at the ground.

Slowly, their attention returned to me. Ibis asked, “Well, did you find any? Did the city hold more prophecies?”

“No. Nero’s cache was too heavily-secured. Though with warlock magic, it might be within Gwyn’s grasp.”

Vesta’s expression was pensive. The Council whispered amongst themselves, casting stray glances at me, and at the others in the room. Below, we were all silent, constricted by tension, waiting to hear our judgments, or to hear what testimony would be demanded next.

Capra broke the air. “Duncan, your warning is appreciated. You may rest, but remain present. Your fate is bound to Gwyneth’s.”

I let out a deep, relieved sigh, nodded, and slumped against the nearest wall.

Ibis picked up where Capra left off. “The Council now calls forward Chantry warriors Gavin and Merill, to provide character witness for both Duncan and Gwyneth.”

They stepped into the center circle and stood there awkwardly, casting nervous glances around the room.

“Tell us, warriors: do you believe Gwyneth capable of such malice? And if so, why did you stand by her for so long?”

Gavin was the first to gather his wits. “I think… I think that she is. And I wish I had seen that sooner, but…” he trailed off and put his head in his hands. “We thought… we…”

Merill put a hand on his shoulder. “We were blind and stupid. We all saw her flaws, and we ignored them readily. Gwyn was too ambitious, too arrogant, too brutal. But she was strong. Stronger than any of us, and that was enough. We wanted a champion to serve the Chantry, and we didn’t care if that champion was a terrible person, so long as she was strong enough to do what was asked of her.”

Gavin nodded. “There was something intoxicating about her power. Watching her fight was an incredible experience, and it made us forget the person underneath. But now that she’s revealed, now that she isn’t Chosen… yeah, she’s capable of that malice. She always was. From snide comments to her brutality in training, Gwyn would do anything to get an edge. Nobody else would be Chosen, only her. Only she ‘deserved’ to be Chosen.”

The Council conferred, and then Lupa asked, “And what of Duncan? Do you vouch for her? What difference is there between one failed Chosen and another?”

For a moment, their shrouds of grief fell away, replaced by righteous indignation. Merill glared at the Council. “Duncan has always stood by us, and has given everything for our home. She is nothing like Gwyn.”

Gavin looked at me and held my gaze. “When news of Gwyn’s disgrace reached us, many in the Chantry began considering a shift in power. Morgan himself was open to the idea; with Gwyn turned away by the Council, perhaps it was time to appoint a Chosen who, while not as strong, was liked by all and a charismatic figure. We wanted to make Duncan the Chosen. Not a single person in the Chantry could hate her. She is a good person, and we’ll all vouch for that.”

Capra clasped his hands together. “Very well. Your testimony is received. You may rest.”

Gavin and Merill nodded, bowed to the Council, and backed away.

“This story is troubling. The Unchosen now represents a dire threat to our way of life, and that threat is of utmost importance, but we cannot forget that this outcome was preventable. The situation here is not so simple as good and evil.

“In light of that, we must hear another side: an accusation of lethal negligence.”

Confusion rippled across the faces of Gavin and Merill, and I frowned. Negligence?

“Mal and Morgan, step forward.”

All eyes were on them. Mal was grinning, sneering. Morgan was surprised, then broken once more, battered.

Capra gestured for Mal to speak, and she did. She spread her hands and addressed each audience member in turn.

“Yes, lethal negligence. I’m sure some of you have no idea what I’m talking about, but that’s fine. You will in a moment.” Mal whirled on Morgan and pointed at him. “Morgan, leader of the Chantry, interpreter of prophecy, you are a liar and a charlatan who is directly to blame for this… unpleasantness.”

Morgan didn’t respond to her. Instead, he looked up at the Council. “I… I only ever wanted to help. To save us. To protect our people. Please, you must believe me.”

Mal laughed. “Believe you? They’d have to be mad, or blind. No, your ideas of tricking everyone are over, old man. You can come clean now and maybe keep a glimmer of respect from your ‘students’, or you can let me spill the whole story. Your choice.”

I didn’t understand what was happening, and neither did most of the people in the room, except for Sam. Her arms were crossed and her gaze was disapproving, but it was hard to tell if she was directing it at Mal, Morgan, or both.

Mal took a few steps towards Morgan and the lines around her eyes tightened. “Are you going to be a coward forever, Morgan? When it has already cost the kindred so much?”

Morgan’s hands became fists, but then he slumped. “Fine.” His voice came out weary. “I will tell them what you told me.”

Mal just smirked.

Morgan turned from the Council, and he looked at me. I felt pinned, trapped. “I… I am so sorry, Duncan. I truly believed that…”

“Cut the posturing.” Mal’s voice was sharp, acerbic.

Morgan nodded slowly, and returned his gaze to the Council. “Years ago, as part of training the potential Chosen, I took them to the Waters of Prophecy, our dwindling supply. Gwyn saw power, strength, and glory. Duncan saw peace and unity. But Mal… she saw darkness. Corruption writhing within the Chantry. She saw foreign worlds, broken… empty. Her vision showed the Gates, and beyond them… nothing.

“No displaced peoples seeking revenge. No great empire wanting to conquer our shard of the universe. The prophecy that had guided us for so long… was a lie. Whatever our founder saw, Mal’s vision contradicted it. It suggested that… that the entire foundation of our faith was, if not a lie, then certainly not absolute truth.”

Vesta nodded slowly. “As I said, I would have warned you if I knew. The Waters do not show an absolute destiny, only one of many possibilities. They show you what you want to see, or what you need to see, but only rarely do they show you what is there.”

Morgan looked away from everyone. “When I heard Mal’s vision, I… I didn’t know what to do. How could she see such a different future from Gwyn or Duncan? If the Waters could show such contradictory images, what did that mean for the order?

“I admit my cowardice. I could not bear the thought of my life’s work being nullified, so I turned my back on Mal’s warnings. I trusted that I could turn Gwyn into a proper Chosen, that I could mold her into a champion of our people. I was wrong.”

I just stared. I could barely comprehend what they were saying.

Mal shook her head and looked me dead in the eyes. “The prophecy is fake, Duncan. There is no Chosen One. There never was.” Then she flicked her gaze back to Morgan. “I tried to warn people, but this wretched creature got in my way. So I left, and tried to convince you to do the same. I warned you, Morgan, and now we’re all suffering.

Morgan bowed his head, but then someone else joined the conversation: Sam.

She walked up beside Mal and grabbed her arm. “Enough. There will be time to gloat when we’re not in imminent danger.”

Mal rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sam. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Years have led to this.”

Sam glared. “Don’t act like you predicted this with perfect certainty. Neither of us ever imagined Gwyn would become such a threat. We didn’t anticipate the scale of this betrayal.”

Mal looked annoyed, but she relented. “Fine. I’ll admit my own failures. I should have stopped Gwyn quicker. I should have killed her when I had the chance. But here we are.” She turned to the Council. “Well? What say you, mighty overlords? Ready to make a decision yet?” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

There was another bout of whispers, and then Capra rose from his seat.

“This Council has reached a decision: the Unchosen must die.” A somber wave swept through the room. “All of us bear some responsibility for this impending tragedy. Had we executed Gwyn when she activated the portal, it would not have come to this. Had we acted against the Chantry sooner, it would not have come to this.”

Lupa looked away, but Ibis practically preened. Vesta just kept walking behind them, watching everything.

“Morgan. You betrayed this Council’s trust, and your Chantry gave Gwyneth the tools she needed to survive the dead city. By failing to heed the warnings of your students, you may have doomed us all.”

Morgan hung his head, and said nothing.

“Sam and Mal. The two of you were content to live an idyllic life, even while you knew that darkness was festering within the Chantry’s walls. You were bystanders when you could have intervened.”

Mal glared, but nodded. Sam held her hand, and gave a more affirmative acknowledgment.

“Gavin and Merill. You fought by her side, helped her train, and ignored all the warnings signs. From all accounts, you were closest to her, and yet you did nothing to stop her from becoming a monster.”

Guilt played across their faces.

“We have all made mistakes. We all bear responsibility for this. But one among us bears the ultimate weight.” Capra turned his masked face directly at me. “Duncan. You stood in Gwyneth’s presence as she declared her plans, as she turned from her people, as she plotted to destroy us. And yet, you did not cut her down. Why?”

I clenched my fists and tried to control my emotions. Shock and sorrow and rage were swirling inside me. Morgan’s lies. Gwyn’s betrayal. Mal’s vision. The Council’s verdict. “I… was weak. I was afraid. I didn’t believe I could do it. And I… I couldn’t bring myself to attempt it. How could I decide who lives and dies?”

Silence. Then, he said, “We have sympathy for you. But in this moment, sympathy is not enough. You must do what you could not, for only you have the strength. You must go back through the portal, find the betrayer, and kill her.”

The weight of his words settled over me. It was a monumental task. I hated Gwyn, but could I kill her? Could I drive my blade into her heart if it meant saving all the people who had stood by me, who were innocent and vulnerable? Slowly, weakly, I nodded. “I accept. I will do what must be done. For the kindred.”

Mal stepped forward, waving her hands. “Hey, hold up. That’s a death sentence and you know it.” She glared up at the Council. “You are not sending her to face Gwyn alone.”

Capra tilted his head. “Will you join her?”

Mal crossed her arms. “Yeah. I will. Who else has the guts to stand with Duncan?”

Sam joined Mal, and then Gavin and Merill came forward too. Capra nodded. “So be it. The five of you will travel to the dead city and stop the betrayer from claiming Caligula’s power. Ancestors be with you, for all our sakes.”

And with that, the meeting was over. Now for the hard part.