Chapter 28 The Council Arrives

Chapter 28 The Council Arrives
Maya's POV

I threw up in the kitchen sink at 6 AM.

Not because I was sick. Because through the studio window, I could see reality literally tearing apart. The morning sky over our backyard had split open like someone unzipped the universe, revealing swirling colors that shouldn't exist and made my eyes water just looking at them.

"They're early," Dante said behind me, his voice tight. "Victoria said they'd come today, but I thought we'd have until noon at least."

"Mommy, the air tastes like pennies," Lily whispered from the doorway, still in her unicorn pajamas. Her eyes were wide with fear. "Are the bad people coming?"

"Not bad," I lied, wiping my mouth with shaking hands. "Just... powerful. And we need to show them we're not dangerous."

The irony wasn't lost on me. Seventy-two hours ago, I'd created a painting so powerful it stabilized dimensional boundaries. Now beings who governed the entire supernatural world were coming to judge whether my family's magic made us a threat to existence itself.

Through our soul bond, I felt Dante's terror matching mine. But when he spoke, his voice was steady. "Lily, go get dressed. Your blue dress with the stars. Maya, we need to—"

The dimensional tear expanded. Three figures stepped through.

The first was a man who looked carved from ancient stone—tall, severe, with silver hair and eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires. Power radiated from him like heat from a furnace, making my skin prickle.

The second was a woman whose age seemed to shift as I watched her—young, then old, then something in between. Her eyes swirled with images: possible futures flickering past too fast to follow. When she looked at me, I had the unsettling feeling she was seeing every choice I'd ever make.

The third was built like a warrior from mythology, all muscle and controlled violence. Tribal tattoos covered his dark skin, glowing faintly with magic that made Dante's faded Cupid marks look like children's drawings.

"Maya Blake Rossi," the silver-haired man said, his voice resonating in my bones. "Dante Rossi, formerly of the Cupid order. Lily Blake Rossi, wish-weaver. The Council has come."

I grabbed Lily, pulling her against my side. She was still in her pajamas. We weren't ready. We'd never be ready.

"I am Magistrate Theron," the man continued. "I have overseen supernatural law for four thousand years. This is Oracle Cassia, who sees what may be. And Enforcer Kael, who ensures our laws are... respected."

The way he said "respected" made my blood run cold.

"You created something three days ago," Theron said, walking into our kitchen like he owned it. His fingers trailed along the counter, and where he touched, frost formed. "A combination of mortal artistic magic, wish-weaver power, and residual divine essence. This has never existed before."

"We saved our daughter," Dante said, stepping forward. "Victoria was going to take Lily's magic. We found another way."

"Yes. You did." Cassia spoke for the first time, her voice layered with echoes. "I see 847 futures where you created that painting. In 623 of them, the power corrupts you within five years. In 198, you destroy Rosewood Falls trying to control it. In 26, you reshape reality itself and break the fundamental laws holding dimensions together."

My stomach dropped. "And the other futures?"

"Uncertain. Clouded. Which is why we're here." Cassia's swirling eyes fixed on me. "Unprecedented power without oversight has destroyed civilizations. You must convince us you're different."

"We don't want to hurt anyone," I said desperately. "We just want to live our lives. Raise our daughter. Make art. We're not trying to reshape reality or break dimensional laws or—"

"Intention is irrelevant." Kael spoke, his voice like grinding stone. "A wildfire doesn't intend to burn the forest. It burns anyway." He moved faster than I could track, suddenly inches from Lily. "This child wished for her mother to be happy. That wish activated dormant Valentine magic, transformed your artistic gift, and created a magical resonance that can be felt across three dimensions. All because a six-year-old wanted her mother to smile."

Lily whimpered. I tried to pull her away, but Kael held up one hand. "Stay."

I froze. Not because I wanted to—because my body simply stopped obeying me. Beside me, Dante was similarly frozen, muscles straining against invisible bonds.

"This is the danger," Kael said softly, crouching to Lily's level. "Uncontrolled wish magic combined with reality-altering art and divine resonance. What happens when this child hits puberty? When her emotions run wild and her wishes become more complex? What happens when she wishes her parents would never die, and her magic tries to make it true by stopping time itself?"

"I wouldn't!" Lily cried. "I'm careful now! Elena's teaching me control!"

"Control can slip," Theron said. "Power this great always finds a way to break free."

Cassia moved to our refrigerator, where Lily's drawings were stuck with magnets. She touched one—a crayon picture of our family, golden light radiating from us. "This child draws what she feels. And she feels your combined magic growing stronger every day."

"So what do you want?" I managed to force the words out through frozen lips. "To take our magic away? Split us up? Kill us?"

"We want truth," Theron said. He waved his hand, and we could move again. I immediately pulled Lily into my arms. "You have thirty days to prove this family magic can exist without becoming a threat. We will station an observer here. We will examine every use of your powers. And at the end of thirty days, we will render judgment."

"And if we fail?" Dante asked.

"Then we seal your magic permanently," Kael said. "All of it. You'll live as completely normal humans, with no memory you were ever anything else."

My art. Lily's wishes. The soul bond connecting us. Everything that made us us—gone.

"However," Cassia said, and her voice held something that might have been sympathy, "I should tell you that in the 26 futures where you break dimensional laws, it always begins the same way." She looked directly at Lily. "It begins with love. With a parent trying to protect their child from an impossible choice. With magic used desperately to save someone you can't bear to lose."

Ice flooded my veins. "What impossible choice?"

"I cannot say. Speaking it aloud would make it more likely to occur." Cassia's eyes swirled faster. "But know this: the greatest danger to your family doesn't come from us. It comes from what you'd be willing to sacrifice to protect each other."

The dimensional tear opened again. A fourth figure stepped through—a young woman with copper hair and suspicious eyes.

"This is Iris," Theron said. "Your observer. She will live next door, monitor your magic use, and report any concerning developments." He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Your painting from three days ago—the one that stabilized dimensional boundaries—its effects are already fading. Victoria lied to you. Or perhaps she simply didn't know."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"The painting bought you time. Perhaps six months before dimensional instability returns." Theron's expression was unreadable. "Which means in six months, someone will need to create another painting of equal power. The question is: what will you sacrifice next time?"

They vanished through the tear, leaving only Iris standing in our kitchen.

And through the soul bond, I felt it—Dante's sudden, terrible realization.

He knew what we'd have to sacrifice next time.

And he was already planning to make sure it was him.