Page 182 of The Shattered Rite
Interlude 11: Vraxxis
“Few survive the moment their illusions are burned away."—Anonymous, fragment recovered from the Ashen Library
Vraxxis of Whitvale stood beneath the high spires of the flame-forged dais with his chin lifted, every thread of his robes tailored to catch the wind just so. Still. Poised. Perfect.
He had already won.
Or so he'd been promised.
The Trials had unfolded exactly as King Thalen, his mentor, had said they would. Wilderness, combat, judgment. All designed. The old rules were real, yes, but enforcement was malleable in the right hands.
And Thalen’s hands had never trembled.
“The Flame may choose,” he’d told Vraxxis months ago, voice quiet as coals. “But fire bends when it knows where to burn. You were made for this.”
Vraxxis had believed him. How could he not? Thalen had given himeverything—access, names, secrets about the trials no other chosen knew. Even whispers of the growing unrest in the lower guard ranks.
The death of Silas had stirred something. Too loyal, too loved. And then there was the little dragonrider, always at his side.
“There are embers rising,” Thalen had warned. “Some of the Royal Guard believe my time should end when the Flame names its next heir. They mistake ritual for weakness. They see only opportunity.”
Vraxxis had assumed it would amount to nothing. The guard was fractured, but too cautious to move.
The Flamekeeper raised her hands.
Vraxxis inhaled, slow and measured. He closed his eyes, awaiting the touch of the Flame.
The crowd fell still.
And then—
“Eliryn of Lirin’s Edge. The Last Dragonrider. The Flame has spoken. It chooses you.”
The words rang out like a death knell.
Vraxxis blinked, waiting for the correction. For another name. His name.
None came.
The Flame vanished. The Rite was complete. It was over in what felt like mere seconds.
Andshestood crowned in fire.
This was not the plan.
Eliryn was meant to fall long before this—quietly, bloody, with her guard at her side. Forgotten by the time the Rite even happened.
A blind girl with no political house, no ambition. A relic.
But now—
The guards surged. Screams sounded and then came the horns.
The court broke open like a wound.
Vraxxis didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Not even as chaos erupted around him.
Because he understood now.
