Page 176 of The Shattered Rite
She crossed the room slowly and opened the door herself.
The man on the other side froze.
She watched him through the dragon-sight, through her stolen awareness, as he took her in. The gold, the crimson, the bare feet, the shining marks that traced up her arms and throat like living flame.
His throat bobbed once as he swallowed.
Then, carefully, deliberately… he bowed.
“My Lady,” he said, voice quieter now. “I… have heard the stories of the Dragonriders. Of the firstborn who walked barefoot into war, and left ash behind them. I do not know what the Flame will choose.”
He lifted his gaze, his expression fierce and reverent.
“But I hope it’s you.”
She felt her chest tighten, but she said nothing, only nodded once, sharp as a blade.
He offered his arm.
“I am to escort you to the Rite.”
Eliryn took his arm gratefully.
As they walked, the silence between them felt like a kind of respect. Vaeronth’s presence was heavy at the edge of her thoughts, but for once, he said nothing. Even he understood this moment was hers.
The square outside the castle gates was more crowded than Eliryn’s village ever had been.
From the carved terraces of Stonefell to the wind-raked steppes near Lirin’s Edge, people had come. Banners of old families fluttered beside the patchwork cloaks of field laborers. Children perched on shoulders. Merchants stood quiet behind their carts. Even the nobles had left the balconies to standamong the people, eager to see who the Flame would choose. All eyes turned toward the balcony above the flame-forged dais, where history would soon be made as a new victor was crowned.
Eliryn stood just beyond the towering doors, waiting.
She could feel the sun on her skin. The sounds of the crowd like a single, massive breath held in the body of the realm. When she saw Garic and Corwin waiting, when she heard the gathered city breathing as one collective body, the guard released her arm, stepped back, and spoke low.
“Walk well, Dragonrider.”
And then she stepped forward.
The crowd did not gasp when she emerged.
They went utterly silent.
Even Vraxxis, ever the serpent, was staring. Garic turned, his eyes wide, his jaw tightening—but whether it was with awe or something else, she couldn’t tell.
Eliryn stood alone now at the edge of the flame-forged dais, the sun gleaming off the gold at her throat, the marks along her arms glowing faintly, undeniably alive. Barefoot. Crownless.
And radiant.
High above, where the judges watched, King Thalen stood draped in black and silver, and the Flame itself waited.
Eliryn took her place beside the other Flame chosen, pretending as though no one watched her.
They wait for something they can believe in,Vaeronth said.Even now.
Eliryn swallowed. Her fingers curled at her sides. She wasn’t sure what she believed in anymore.
The doors opened.
Golden light spilled across the marble, and the guards flanking the entrance stepped back. A herald’s voice rang out above the crowd, amplified by spell and steel:
