Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Divine flames were the stuff of legends, something they had only heard of in old, almost forgotten tales. They had never imagined they would witness one, let alone see it in the hands of a mortal.

Each of them was overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

Oceana, realizing the danger of this revelation, quickly raised her hand, casting a sealing spell over the room. A shimmering barrier of light spread from her palm, enclosing the space around them and muffling the sounds from outside.

This news could not be allowed to escape.

The flame's presence would change everything, and if word spread, the Spire would be thrown into turmoil—or worse, it could attract unwanted attention from far beyond the coven's walls.

"This changes everything," Oceana said, her tone heavy with the weight of responsibility.

"We all know what this flame represents. Divine flames are wielded only by gods, and in the most ancient of legends, it was said that those blessed by the gods could control them.

But now..." she turned to Angelina, her expression hardening. "Now it is in the hands of a man. Your grandson, no less."

Jaegar's eyebrows knitted at her contempt. He could tell that him holding the flame brought more hate to him.

The six women, the council of witches, including Yasmine, now stood before Angelina, their eyes fixed on her, awaiting her reaction.

One of the council members, a stern-faced woman named Marian, broke the silence. "We need to restrain him in the Spire. If the flame is truly divine, we should retake the flame from him. We can't risk it anymore."

But before the tension could rise further, Griselda, a forty-something woman, interrupted in a calm but firm voice. "We all know once the flame is attached to someone, it can't be taken by anyone. The divine flame can only pass to another when the wielder is dead. It is bound to them, and they are bound to it." Her words carried a chilling finality.

"Shouldn't we restrain him in the spire?" One of them said.

"Yes, we should keep him in the spire until we figure out what to do?"

Suddenly the atmosphere in the hall, dropped to zero temperature as five women, except for Yasmine, stared at Angelina; their gaze now turned blank, masking their emotions. They very well know; that she wouldn't agree with them.

The situation now turned into a tense standoff. They may have loads of respect for her, but when it comes to matters of the spire, they all unite and act on what's best for the spire.

How quickly the priorities change, within a matter of seconds.

Angelina closed her eyes, shaking her head, lightly. She didn't blame them or was angered by their motives. And she had her own motives.

Jaegar stood silently, his brow furrowing as he listened. He had known that wielding the flame set him apart, but hearing these witches speak of restraining him, taking the flame by force if necessary, sparked a deep unease. He clenched his fists, though the flame in his hand remained steady.

Then, Angelina's voice cut through the tension like a blade. It was not loud, but there was a firmness in it that made everyone in the room flinch. "No one is going to restrain my grandson," she said, her tone unyielding. "As much as I cherish this place, and as much as I value each of you, you are speaking of my blood. And I am sure you know, you will have to go through me if you even think of taking the flame from him."

A ripple of arcane energy emanated from Angelina as she spoke, invisible to the eye but felt by everyone present. It was a subtle but powerful reminder of who Angelina was—a matriarch who had spent decades building this coven into a force to be reckoned with. Her power was not to be underestimated, and in that moment, every witch in the room was reminded of the depth of her strength.

The council members exchanged uneasy glances.

Even Oceana, who had led the council with a firm hand, hesitated in the face of Angelina's raw determination.

No one wanted to cross her, not when she spoke with such conviction.

However, it would have been different if they knew about her poison and Yasmine had kept quiet about it.

"I have dedicated my entire life to the Spire," Angelina continued, her eyes never leaving the faces of those around her. "I have ignored my family, my dear ones, all to ensure that this place stood as a sanctuary for our kind. But now that I am reunited with them, I will not let anyone come between us. Not the council, not the Spire. No one."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Yasmine, sensing the growing tension, quickly intervened. "Angelina, we understand. No one here wants to harm Jaegar; they really don't mean that. We spoke out of concern for the Spire, for its safety. You must know that."

Angelina's gaze softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "I know why you spoke as you did," she said, her voice steady. "But the heavens willed that Jaegar bear the flame. It was not the council's decision, and it is not for any of us to take away. I can promise you all—Jaegar is not your enemy, and he never will be."

The tension in the room eased, though it did not disappear entirely. The witches still exchanged wary glances, as if speaking something.

Then Angelina held Jaegar's hand and turned to leave the hall. As they reached the door, she paused and cast one last look over her shoulder. "Do not think of harming my grandson," she said, her voice carrying a final warning. "I may tolerate many things, but I will not stay silent if anyone crosses that line."

The door closed behind them, leaving the council members in a tense silence. They had witnessed something extraordinary—a flame from the gods, wielded by a mortal.

As the door closed behind Angelina and Jaegar, the tension in the room seemed to linger in the air like a storm waiting to break.