Angelina finally turned from the window, and the gaslight revealed features that, while marked by time, still bore the strength that had once commanded this very chamber.

"You speak of control, Oceana, but what you truly desire is possession. You see in my grandson a weapon to be shaped rather than a young man to be guided."

Her words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of years of experience and the sting of truth. "I have seen what becomes of those who are trained in isolation from the world they are meant to protect. They become powerful, yes, but they also become distant from the very humanity their power should serve."

Jaegar just stood beside her, listening to her.

Oceana then said, "It is better than letting them roam free. Here, we can train him and protect him."

"Under supervision that amounts to imprisonment," Angelina replied sharply.

"Surrounded by those who would study him like a specimen rather than nurture him as a young man with fears, hopes, and dreams that extend beyond his magical abilities."

She moved to stand beside her grandson, placing a protective hand upon his shoulder.

"I have made my decision, and it remains unchanged. Jaegar will not be staying here or anywhere."

"I can take care of him myself."

The chamber fell silent save for the soft hiss of gaslight and the distant sounds of the city below. The tension stretched taut as a bowstring until Oceana, with obvious reluctance, inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"Very well. I cannot compel you to remain, though I believe this decision may prove costly for all concerned."

As if summoned by some unseen signal, Angelina raised her hand and spoke words in the old tongue, her voice resonating with power that made the very stones of the chamber vibrate in harmony.

The air outside the great windows shimmered and twisted, reality bending like heated glass until it reformed into something that drew gasps from all present save Angelina herself.

A carriage of impossible beauty materialized in the air beyond the windows, suspended as naturally as a cloud.

Its body appeared to be crafted from crystallized moonlight, translucent yet solid, decorated with silver filigree that traced patterns of constellations across its surfaces.

But most wondrous of all were its bearers—six great swans whose feathers gleamed like fresh snow, their wings spread wide to catch the currents of magic that held them aloft.

Their necks, graceful as sculpture, bore harnesses of what appeared to be woven starlight, and their eyes held an intelligence that spoke of ancient agreements and willing service.

"My transportation awaits," Angelina said simply, though the display of power had clearly been intended to remind all present of exactly who they were dealing with.

She had not earned the title of Reverend Witch through political maneuvering alone, and the casual summoning of such magnificent creatures served as a gentle but unmistakable demonstration of abilities that had not diminished with retirement.

Mirabel rose from her chair with sudden decision, her rose-colored skirts rustling as she moved toward Angelina.

"Master," she said, using the title with deliberate emphasis, "if you would permit it, I would like to accompany you. My service to the current Council has been... enlightening, but I find myself longing to return to the ways of true wisdom."

The statement hung in the air like an indictment, though Mirabel’s tone remained respectfully neutral.

Oceana’s eyes flashed with something that might have been anger or hurt, but she maintained her composure.

"If that is your choice, Mirabel, then you are free to make it. The Witch Council has always operated through willing service rather than compulsion."

Angelina smiled at the younger woman—younger being a relative term, as Mirabel had seen nearly forty years herself.

"You are most welcome, my dear. Your counsel has always been valued, and your company will be a comfort in the days ahead."

As the two women prepared to depart, Ewen and Veronica exchanged glances before moving toward the chamber’s exit themselves. They had been silent in the conversation the whole time. They were greatly shocked when they heard that Jaegar was the grandson of Lady Angelina and Spire hadn’t disclosed the information about Jaegar being her grandson or Augusta being her daughter. Veronica and Ewen were thrilled to find such extremely delicate information, but Veronica felt she was benefitting at the expense of her friend.

Ewen was oblivious to her feelings. They just decided to leave.

Their departure was conducted with formal courtesy—respectful nods to all present, murmured words of farewell, and the rustle of official robes as they withdrew to attend to other duties.

But their message was clear: the Ministry’s Arcnytes would not linger to witness what might follow, though their swift exit also suggested they would be reporting everything they had observed to their own superiors.

The great windows swung open at Angelina’s gesture, admitting the cool evening air and the distant sounds of the city.

The swan-drawn carriage moved closer with elegance, its ethereal beauty somehow made more real by proximity.

A set of steps, formed from the same crystallized moonlight as the carriage itself, extended toward the window sill.

"Come, Jaegar," Angelina said gently, extending her hand toward her grandson.

"It is time we returned home."

The young man looked back once at the chamber where his fate had been debated, his eyes meeting Oceana’s for a moment that stretched longer than courtesy required.

In that exchange, something passed between them—perhaps understanding, perhaps warning, perhaps simply acknowledgement of powers and responsibilities that neither fully comprehended yet both were bound to bear.

Then Jaegar took his grandmother’s hand and stepped into the waiting carriage, followed by Mirabel, whose decision to abandon her position marked the end of one Chapter in her life and the beginning of another.

Jaegar felt like the Oceana wanted to gain control over him, and ever since they knew about the flames, he was aware of their eyes on him.

Now they wanted to cage him inside the spire. He would have wreaked havoc in the spire if not for his grandmother. And the next time they come for him, he wouldn’t let them off easy. Jaegar thought to himself.