The ones who live hidden in plain sight (A discovery of witches story)

32- Venice

Andrew POV: 

Two weeks later

Venice shimmered under the late afternoon sun, casting reflections across the canals and cobblestones. The headquarters of the Congrégation stood tall and imposing, nestled within the grandeur of Venice's winding streets. The building was opulent, with marble pillars and intricate carvings adorning its façade. Rich tapestries hung from the walls inside, depicting the legacy of ancient sorcerers, and chandeliers of shimmering crystals illuminated the halls in a soft, warm glow. Every detail screamed of wealth, power, and influence, a stark reminder of the authority this institution wielded over the magical world.

Andrew and Camille walked through the heavy, ornate doors into the grand hall, where the Congrégation was convened. Camille, holding Andrew's hand, ready to do her testimony. As they entered the room, the members of the Congrégation were there, as also the member of the attack. their faces grim and expectant.

As they waited, a voice interrupted her, unexpected and young.

— I have something to say.

The room fell into a shocked silence. All eyes turned toward the source of the voice—a boy, barely 18, who stood trembling. His face was pale, his hands shaking slightly as he raised them to speak. He was one of the youngest among those involved in the attack.

The directrice of the Congrégation stared at him curious, other in disdain. Camille's breath caught, and she exchanged a glance with Andrew, both wondering what the boy could possibly say.

— I can't... I can't keep this inside anymore," the boy said, his voice shaking but resolute. "They told me to lie. They told me to say that Andrew attacked someone, that he was violent... but it not true. We... we went into their home to find evidence. His eyes flickered towards Camille, and he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. We lied about everything. The evidence against Andrew... it was all fabricated. They wanted him out of the way.

The room erupted in gasps and whispers. Camille felt Andrew's grip tighten on her hand. The tension that had been suffocating them both for weeks now began to lift, like the sun breaking through a dark cloud.

One of the older sorcerers leaned forward, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Do you understand the gravity of what you're saying, boy?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

The boy nodded.

— "Yes. But I can't live with the guilt anymore. We framed Andrew. We broke into his house. I'm so sorry.

Andrew turned to Camille, smiling. His name would be cleared.

As the Congrégation processed the boy's confession, whispers grew louder. Some members looked skeptical, others furious, the originator of the investigation. He confessed the truth.

—This is a serious accusation and crime, said the directrice, her voice commanding silence in the room. There will be consequences. Session over.

As they left the grand hall, Andrew felt a lightness in his chest that had been absent for weeks.

— That boy..., he did the right thing. I wonder what will happen to him now," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern.

Andrew nodded, his gaze distant. 

— He's not just any boy. He's the son of Ulrich Ardent. 

Camille froze, her eyes widening in shock. Ulrich Ardent was a most powerful and feared wizards in the Congrégation. His influence ran deep, and he had been one of the key figures pushing for Andrew's condemnation. That his own son had betrayed him in such a public and dramatic way was nothing short of unimaginable.

— Ardent's son..." Camille whispered, the gravity of the situation settling in. "He betrayed his father."

Andrew's jaw clenched. "He could be in danger now, for sure. Ulrich won't take this lightly. Léopold risked everything to tell the truth."

As if summoned by their conversation, a shadow fell across the steps where they stood. They turned to see a tall, imposing figure descending the marble staircase behind them— Ulrich Ardent himself. His eyes, cold as steel, locked onto Andrew and Camille with a seething intensity. Andrew tensed.

Léopold was a little away. Camille went to him. This could be a.... he followed her, anyway. The boy hesitated, juggling on his feet, glancing towards Andrew and Camille. — "I'm sorry," he whispered, I had to do it.

Camille smiled softly at him:

— You did the right thing. Thank you.

— Thanks you, Andrew say again, grateful.

The boy nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and relief.

— If you need something, started Camille, you can come to us and we will try to help.

Andrew smiled, agreeing back.