The Hall of Judgement was a cold, imposing space. High gothic arches clawed towards a shadowed ceiling, and the air hung thick with the weight of centuries of pronouncements, expulsions, and hushed whispers. Elias stood at the center, a lone figure facing the Academy Council – a grim assembly of aged wizards and witches, their faces etched with suspicion and disapproval. The Keepers of the Ancient Flame sat in the front row, their faces smug, their eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. The flickering candlelight cast grotesque shadows that danced across the walls, mimicking the unease that churned within Elias's stomach.