Page 183 of The Shattered Rite
This wasn’t about the Flame’s choice. It was about Thalen.
The faction among the guard—they weren’t rebelling against the trials. They were making their move against the throne.
They believed this was the only moment to strike.
When power transferred.
When the old rule could be ended in ceremonyandblood.
And suddenly… Eliryn didn’t seem like such an innocent anymore.
She’d been close with Silas. Too close. Loyal to the end.
Had she known about the unrest? Had she played meek while the knives gathered?
Vraxxis' gaze snapped to her across the chaos, her pathetic form bowed on the ground amongst the throngs of people.
Then a shadow moved. Fast. Clean.
He knew the stride.
Malric.
The king’s dagger. His shadow. His hand in the dark.
Malric reached Eliryn just when it looked like she would be trampled. He caught her in his arms like it had been rehearsed.
For one breath, Vraxxis hesitated.
Had Thalen known? Had this been part of his plan after all?
No…
No. If Eliryn had been truly dangerous, Malric wouldn’t be catching her, he’d be cutting her down.
Vraxxis' jaw slackened. His breath steadied.
Whatever this rebellion was, whatever Eliryn may or may not have known, Thalen was already handling it. Personally. Precisely.
“You are the only one who understands what the realm truly needs,”Thalen had said.
And Vraxxis still believed him.
Let the Flame choose who it liked. Let the guards rage. Let the relic girl play at prophecy.
She had been chosen only seconds ago and already she was walking straight into her demise.
Malric would see it done.
Thalen would see it justified.
Vraxxis turned, his cloak catching the rising smoke, and slipped into the chaos like it had never touched him at all.
A loyal blade.
A future king.
Still very much in control.
