A young child lies motionless on the examination table, her delicate form bathed in the sterile glow of overhead lights. The hovering monitor above her pulses in quiet rhythm, its soft beeps a steady testament to the rise and fall of her tiny chest.

  Loran stands beside her, his fingers nervously adjusting the cuffs of his coat as he glances at the man next to him—Velkor. A figure of undeniable authority, draped in regal purple robes, hands clasped rigidly behind his back. He exudes an air of control, but his gaze flickers—between the monitor, the unconscious child, and the physician—betraying the storm beneath his measured exterior.

  “What you are asking of me is impossible, Velkor.” Loran’s voice is careful, but firm. “You cannot simply sever an ability. The effects on the mind could be catastrophic.”

  Velkor’s expression remains unreadable, save for the tightening of his jaw. “Suppression, then?” he offers. The doctor tenses. “Anything to ensure she can never use them again.”

  Loran hesitates, the weight of the request pressing down on him. His lips part, searching for the right words, his pulse a frantic beat in his throat.

  “My Lord, she is hardly…” He falters, but Velkor’s patience is thinning.

  “…typical.” The doctor exhales, almost relieved to have found a word that doesn’t doom him. “I would not even know where to begin. If she is as dangerous as you say—”

  Velkor’s fist slams down onto the metal table, jostling surgical instruments. The air in the room crackles with unspoken fury.

  “Do not speak another word,” he warns, voice low and sharp as a blade, “if you are about to suggest I exterminate my daughter.”

  Loran shrinks back, head bowing instantly. “I apologize, Your Honor.” His words are barely above a whisper.

  Velkor eyes him, cold and calculating, considering whether even this near-treasonous implication should go unpunished. The moment stretches, taut with tension—until a sudden voice shatters it.

  “My Lord.”

  A Palace guard stands at the doorway, posture rigid with urgency. He offers a swift salute, then a bow. “The Council demands your presence.”

  Velkor’s gaze lingers on his daughter for a breath too long before he finally acknowledges the summons with a curt nod. “I will be along shortly.”

  “They insisted I return with you immediately, My Lord.”

  Velkor exhales sharply, the restraint evident in his posture. He turns to Loran, eyes dark with warning. “Guard her.” His voice is a command, failure to do so promising a great unpleasantness.

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  Then, without another word, he turns on his heel, striding out of the lab, the guard trailing close behind.

  ~~~

  The chamber is vast and cold, its dim lighting barely reaching the towering walls. Velkor stands at its center, a lone figure against the ever-present scrutiny of The Council.

  The giant holographic heads were an assembly of self-important, egomaniacal figures who wielded the power to determine life or death, all while cloaked behind the comfort of anonymity. Their faces, expressions animated yet devoid of true emotion, flicker ominously in the air, casting unsettling shadows on the walls.

  Meeting with them felt like descending into a court of whimsy and cruelty, making it easily the worst part of his week. Rendered even worse whenever he was issued an impromptu summons.

  “I am handling it,” Velkor states, each word measured, controlled. His fists are clenched behind his back, but his expression betrays nothing. It would be unseemly for a Sovereign to lose his composure.

  “Our atmosphere nearly collapsed in on itself,” one voice grumbles, thick with disapproval.

  “The child is unpredictable on a good day,” another interjects, its tone acidic. “What happens the next time she decides to throw an even bigger tantrum?”

  “We are working on a way to safely rid her of her abilities.” Velkor says.

  “And if you fail?” The first head thunders ominously

  A new voice joins the fray—calm, but no less damning. The only woman among them. “You know what must be done.”

  Velkor’s breath catches, his control wavering. “Please do not ask me to kill the child, Councilwoman.”

  The silence that follows is suffocating.

  “We are not asking, Velkor.” The voice is soft, but it might as well be a death sentence. “We are more than capable of assisting where you hesitate.”

  The chamber feels colder. The walls seem closer. Velkor stands frozen beneath their unblinking gazes, his heart a lead weight in his chest.

  ~~~

  He storms back into the lab, his footsteps a sharp contrast to the stillness of the room. Loran startles, his fingers tightening around the data pad he’d been reviewing.

  “My Lord?” The doctor’s voice is cautious.

  Velkor does not answer immediately. He paces once, twice—his mind waging war with itself. Then, finally, he stops.

  “Memory erasure.”

  Loran blinks. “My Lord?”

  Velkor gestures vaguely toward his own temple, his meaning clear.

  The doctor exhales, his mind already sifting through the implications. “A temporary fix,” he muses, his voice wary. “But feasible.” He hesitates, then asks carefully, “How far back do you want it to be?”

  Velkor turns to face him fully, his expression set in stone.

  “Blank slate.”