Caeden walked down the halls of the Mess with Erik and Cat at his sides. Lily was still busy handling Forged business, so it was just the three of them. Caeden had no idea what to expect. Cat had nothing to say about bit, but she didn’t seem concerned.

That didn’t grant him as much peace of mind as he would have liked. Cat was the Headmaster’s granddaughter and likely experienced the best parts of him. Caeden was aware that this was the Central Authority. Or, more accurately, he was aware of what kind of world they lived in. No one got to Damon’s level without doing some things they regretted and sometimes things they didn’t. The worse option being the second one.

Caeden was a fly next to a dragon when compared to Damon, and he already had things he regretted that were nevertheless necessary to come as far as he had. What he feared was not that Damon was the same as him but that he wasn’t. A man that can take the actions necessary to grasp power without regret or remorse was a sociopath at best.

But Cat seemed to truly love her grandfather, so he was going to give the man the benefit of the doubt. And, not to put too fine a point on it, the fact that Caeden was still alive spoke volumes about the Headmaster’s intent. If he was a power-hungry madman, Caeden would have already been a skid mark on the Academy lawn. Not to mention, running the Academy in the manner he had for the last 50,000 years showed a certain level of care and empathy for the students coming through.

Based on the history Lily had explained to him, no matter how bad, how violent and brutal the Academy seemed, it was infinitely better than the conditions young shrouded experienced before it existed. Records from the time indicated that, at its worst, there was no learning process. Shrouded were thrown into battle without even an introduction to what their shrouds could do, let alone an education. Damon Vestigious had changed all that.

Putting all the facts together, between his recent actions, Cat’s experiences, and his track record, Caeden was cautiously optimistic. Not that he had any choice. Caeden had made peace with his fate the moment he evolved Cat’s shroud. He knew that the CA would figure out what he could do sooner rather than later. So, his fate was in Damon’s hands, whether he liked it or not. Honestly, if Caeden had experienced so much dramatic, life-or-death conflict recently, he might have been more moved by that idea. But at this point, it was just another day. He had become more than a little numb to it all.

The Headmaster’s office was near the top of the Mess. It wasn’t a very long trip, the Mess being more wide than it was tall and elevators being what they were. Whatever Caeden was expecting, it was not what he found. The office they approached wasn’t ornate or even decorated much at all. It was a plain wooden door that was likely nearly as old as its occupant. Caeden could tell it was at least infused, but the work wasn’t anything impressive. Honestly, he expected more. Better defenses, more finery.

Then again, the man inside didn’t really need defending. More to the point, if you came this way, you knew where you were. And who you were seeing. Ostentatious decor was unnecessary.

There was no reception or waiting area, and Cat simply walked up to the door and entered without knocking. Caeden and Erik looked at each other before shrugging and following her in. The office inside was essentially a perfect reflection of the door. Everything was plain, understated, and old. Caeden wondered if everything here was from the founding of the Academy, literally unchanged since its occupant first moved in.

Then, he noticed something that indicated at least a few changes over the years. A series of family portraits hanging on the wall, first painted and then actual pictures, showed up. Damon was the obvious constant, though two figures occupied many of the earlier portraits with him. A beautiful woman stood at his side, and they were alone in the first few paintings. Then a baby came, later turning into a boy and then a young man.

Eventually, much later down the line, the young man was joined by a rather plain-looking, unnotable woman. One with black hair and tan skin, very much like Cat. Though she obviously got her features and athletic build from her father’s side of the family.

Another notable change happened several portraits before that. The lovely woman next to Cat’s grandfather vanished. It was only several paintings later that Cat’s mother joined. And a few after that, when the photographs replaced the paintings, Cat showed up.

“Aww, you were a cute little baby.” Erik had been following along, much the same as Caeden had. “Look at your chubby little cheeks.”

Cat rolled her eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, a spectral hand manifested next to Erik’s head, smacking him upside it. “Shut up, dork. You weren’t even supposed to be here.”

“Now now, Kitten. Be nice to your friend. After all, he’s not wrong. You were an adorable baby.” A teasing voice came from the high-backed chair behind the desk at the far end of the office. Cat was standing next to it as it faced out a window overlooking the Academy campus.

“Graaamps, not in front of my friends,” Cat whined. “It’s bad enough that you picked my cover name.”

“Wait, you didn’t pick ‘Cat?’” Erik asked.

“No! Did you seriously think I wanted to be called Cat?” she looked incredulously at him.

“Well, I just figured, you know. Hekate, Cat. Cat’s kinda in there if you squint at it.” Erik shrugged.

“Hahahahaha!” Deep laughter rolled out from behind the chair. It spun around, revealing the pale, smiling face and twinkling eyes of Damon Vestigious. “No, I’m afraid that was a little joke of mine. You see, when Hekate was a baby, she would always make the cutest little sounds. My wife always said she sounded like a little kitten, and the name simply stuck. Hekate quite liked it until she hit her rebellious years. Now it embarrasses her.”

“Gramps!” Cat pouted while Damon smiled at her. Caeden could read the genuine love in that expression.

“Now, enough joking aside,” His expression turned serious. “Caeden, we need to talk.”

“I figured as much. This has to do with what you talked about during the attack, right?” Caeden wasn’t about to admit he could evolve shrouds, so he erred as vague as possible.

“Yes, about how you evolved Hekate’s shroud. And I expect you did the same for the Meteoris girl.” Damon nodded.

Well, there went any hopes that he didn’t know.

Caeden sighed. “Yes, yes, I did. I assume you’re wondering how I did it?”

“No, not at all. You’re a Throne. Such things are natural.”

“Well- Wait, a what?” Caeden started to recount an abbreviated explanation of his unique shroud situation when Damon threw in something entirely unexpected.

“Yes, your Physical Enhancement shroud is a Throne. The most powerful of all shroud types. Although you haven’t actually activated it yet, I’m assuming.” Damon explained. “I knew as soon as I received the report on your sigils. Although I never would have hoped for such a drastic outcome.” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You’re saying my shroud is special because my sigil looks like a throne?” Caeden asked, baffled. He already knew Physical Enhancement was special, but not like this. The researcher never mentioned it.

“Yes, I suppose you’ll need a bit more explanation. Though I’m afraid little is understood on the topic, considering how rare Thrones are. They occupy a similar status to Magic shrouds.” He looked at Cat. “Very powerful and very rare. Such a combination does not lend itself to the free spreading of knowledge. Those who know anything are far more likely to hide that information, hoard it and deny all comers.”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” Caeden said. He had so little understanding of this special skill of his.

“Good. To answer your question, no. Your shroud is not special because its sigil is a throne. Rather, that shape indicates a certain power. In fact, it is why our special brand of shroud is called Throne. All of them have a similar sigil shape.” Damon explained.

“Our?” Caeden asked.

“Yes, Caeden. I also hold a Throne shroud.” Damon nodded. He waved his hand, and a cloud of sickly green and oily black formed together into a ghastly image. A throne formed from bones with a powerful figure sitting atop it. A lich in a dark cloak clutching a bone scythe within a skeletal hand. Caeden could feel an ephemeral, unknowable pressure radiating from the figure. Like a knife held to his throat, pure lethality crystalized into a single sensation.

The sigil vanished, and the pressure went with it.

“Now, you may have noticed a key difference between my sigil and yours beyond the basic aesthetic.”

“The throne was occupied.”

“Exactly. That is the key to activating your shroud and ultimately improving it. Unfortunately, this is also where my ability to help you ends. Let me explain. As far as I have ever found, Throne shrouds hold a certain ability to affect the world more deeply than normal. More than that, every Throne shroud starts out empty. This can be considered its ‘inactive’ state. While your shroud is like this, it will act like any other shroud, with one exception.”

“Evolving other shrouds.” Caeden nodded.

“Ha! Unshrouded gods, no!” Damon laughed. “No, but you’re close. I shudder to think of a world where every Throne could evolve shrouds at will. You are unique in that ability. Other Thrones instead grant especially powerful splinters. More importantly, Thrones are guaranteed to create a splinter with any shroud. That consistency and strength is a major boon. But it pales in comparison to the potential of an activated Throne. Once a Throne shroud reaches its completed form, it loses the original ability to enhance other shrouds, but in exchange, the shrouded will gain a massive, unique boon.”

“Unique?” Caeden asked.

“Indeed. Every Throne conveyed an ability that no other shroud has ever or will ever hold.”

“How can you possibly guarantee that? Shrouds are so expansive. They can do practically anything within their domain. Or are you saying…” Caeden trailed off.

“Oh, worse than what you’re thinking. Thrones don’t just defy the limits of a domain. They can break the fundamental rules governing shrouds.”

“I…What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, if you want an example, mine will do. A rule no shroud can break is that they cannot affect other shrouds. That is to say, the part of a soul that contains a shroud is immutable, even to the power of the greatest shrouds in existence. Except for mine. I can rip the shroud from a soul and fuze it with a ghost monster created with my Ghost shroud. I can gain the shrouds of any shrouded I slay.”

Caeden reeled. “O-Oh.” The absolute magnitude of what could be done with just that one example was absurd.

“Yes, ‘oh.’ And that’s just one example. I tell you freely, every Councilmember is a Throne, and all are activated. The Core Seat, for example, can affect ether with her shroud, manipulating it in accordance with her domain. The Bronze Seat took a more mundane route, but one that is no less daunting. He expanded his domain to cover all metals instead of just bronze. He can freely create and control any metal in existence.”

Caeden’s mind nearly whited out. The sheer possibilities either ability provided was impossible to parse. It went so far beyond anything he’d ever heard of; he could hardly imagine it. And that didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what was possible with an empty Throne.

“...Any rule whatsoever?” Caeden finally asked, trying to grasp that enormous concept.

“Well, that’s where our knowledge becomes a bit more spotty and untested,” Damon explained. “We assume any rule can be broken because we’ve never run into one that couldn’t. But you must consider that the number of Thrones on the Starry Sea today can be counted in the dozens across its entire expanse. When you truly consider it, the number of rules shrouds cannot break dwarf that paltry amount. There very well could be rules that are truly immutable for us; we just never encountered an example.”

“There are some rules that govern a Throne’s power. Only one rule can be broken by a throne, no more. Once the rule is decided, the Throne is filled, and they can never go back. You need not fear a Throne that can change their ability on a whim or one completely unbound from any limit.”

“Ok, why doesn’t a Throne just make their first rule broken, the one that limits the number of rules a Throne can break?” Caeden asked.

“HA! Your first question is how to completely break everything, huh? Lovely.” Damon shook his head. “The answer is simple. No one chooses their rule. It is something we don’t understand fully. Some say it is an ability borne of strong desire to defy a particular limit; others think it is a predetermined natural extension of one’s domain. Either could be true, or neither. In any case, you cannot simply decide which ability to gain.”

“Why are you even telling me all of this?” Caeden couldn't help asking. “Most shrouded would never want me to rise. You’re telling me exactly how to surpass everyone.”

“Firstly, because you helped Hekate.” Damon once again looked fondly at his granddaughter. “For that, I cannot thank you enough. A little-known weakness of powerful shrouds, your offspring tend to gain domains so eclectic and incomprehensible that they are essentially useless. I have suffered that particular curse. My son has the Ethereal shroud. He never understood it and was relegated to the weakest of shrouded.”

“But back to why I am telling you because it is not just out of gratitude. More importantly, you’re going to need it. The Tournament of Powers is coming, as you’ve been told. What you haven’t been told is that we are going to be relying on you and your friends to win and win flawlessly. Our last few generations of shrouded have not produced anyone nearly so powerful as you are at your age. The other nations involved will be looking to our youngest for weakness, and you cannot show it. If you do, they will be all the more likely to throw caution to the wind and assault the Central Authority en masse.”

Caeden gulped.

“But that is not the most basic and the most important reason.” Damon’s voice lowered, becoming softer. “The real reason I tell you this is because I am a teacher, and it is my duty and pleasure to help the younger generation grow and excel as best I can.”

“And in the spirit of helping you, I have good news. Caeden, Erik, I have taken steps to prevent the Council from interfering with you any further than they have already tried. Erik, your family has been covertly moved to a distant, little-known corner of the CA with practically no military presence. Caeden, your uncle will be free of any restriction on his healing. I trained half the military brass currently active, and I called in a few favors. Tomorrow, an expert healer will come by to restore him, better than new.”

“Hey, that’s great, bro.” Erik patted him on the back while Caeden stood in stunned silence.

It was too much. The concept of Thrones was blown from his mind. In its place was a dense mix of feelings he wasn’t sure how to parse right now. But the lead emotion was one he had desperately needed for almost a year now.

Relief.

“Ha,” Caeden wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, that’s awesome. Thank you, Headmaster.”

“Oh, you’re Hekate’s friends; just call me Gramps.” He waved a hand.

“Thanks, Gramps. I wish you would have done that when I told you about it.” Cat huffed.

“Yes, I know, Kitten.” Damon sighed. “I was caught up in foolish things. I needed some helpful insight to see how much I had erred.”

“Wait, Cat, you tried to…” Caeden couldn’t even speak.

“Well, duh!” I wasn’t just going to leave you hanging! Gramps was just being dumb about it.” Cat crossed her arms, glaring at her grandfather, who looked suitably chastened. Finally, she relented, leaning over and giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek. “That’s Gramps. Love you.”

“I love you too, Kitten.”

Caeden’s mind eventually focused enough to process a little more of what was going on. He looked at Erik. “Actually, I’ll let you know if we need the healer. I think I've got it covered.”

Erik looked back at him.