The decree

The Morioka Clan was one of the Thirteen Great Magic Clans of Japan, an institution that had shaped the Nations magical economy since its founding, a pillar upon which the Magic Association itself had been built.

        Its name carried weight. Authority. Tradition.

        And cruelty.

        Within the Morioka estate, footsteps echoed through a vast corridor lined with ancestral crests and spell-inscribed pillars. The passage climbed toward a twin staircase, its polished stone worn smooth by generations of power. Beyond it lay the clan head's office, and further still, the council chamber.

        A long, heavy table dominated the room, carved from ancient wood and etched with sigils of binding and command. Figures sat along its length in rigid silence as a meeting convened.

        At the head of the table, the clan head spoke. His voice echoed, measured and absolute.

        "You will be engaged to the heir of the Tao Clan's eldest son."

        The words fell like a decree.

        For a heartbeat, the room remained still.

        Eto did not speak.

        She did not protest.

        She did not even blink.

        Yet for those who knew her well, the shift was unmistakable.

        Her expression remained cold, unreadable, but something behind her eyes fractured. A tension flickered beneath the surface, sharp and fleeting, before it vanished behind the discipline drilled into her since childhood.

        The decision had already been made.

        And in that room, her will did not matter.