Page 141 of The Shattered Rite
Eliryn sighed, more exhausted than afraid. “I was hoping for something more encouraging.”
“I’m not good at speeches.”
“No,” she said dryly. “But at least you’re honest.”
They neared the doors. Silas slowed. His voice dropped.
“Eliryn.”
She turned to him, sensing the shift.
“Whatever happens in there… don’t let them see you hesitate.”
A beat.
“You’re still standing. That’s more than half of them expected.”
Eliryn’s mouth quirked. “Including you?”
Silas paused, then shook his head once. “No. Not me.”
Her lips twitched. But her heart steadied.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Then the doors creaked open.
And as the light spilled over them, Silas leaned in just slightly, voice low, steady.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Eliryn rolled her eyes—but couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile.
“Try not to look too worried. People will talk.”
Silas’s answering glance was quiet. Steady.
“Let them.”
She knew that if she failed here or in the trials, she didn’t just die. She made it easier for them to erase her kind from history.
As the doors creaked open and the torchlight spilled out over them, Silas let his fingers graze her forearm once more.
A gesture. A tether.
And together, they stepped inside.
It was a vast space, circular and tall as a tower’s spine. Marble columns loomed like sentinels, wrapped in iron banners bearing the sigil of the ruling line: a black flame rising through abroken crown. At the far end stood a low, obsidian dais. Upon it was the king himself.
Eliryn recognized him instantly, though they had never met.King Thalen.Tall, thin as a reed, but with the stillness of a blade left unsheathed. His hair was gray at the edges, the crown above his brow more bone than gold, shaped like fire frozen mid-burn. His eyes were the color of smoke and just as difficult to hold.
She bowed low beside Whitvale and Garic, noticing that their guards hovered a few paces behind them.
The king’s voice rang out, sharp and echoing.
“So. You are what remains.”
