Chapter 37: Where the Thread Unravels

  The doors stayed open as Alvereth stepped aside. Two guards hurried in, faces pale beneath the gold trim of their helms.

  "Princess—"

  "You felt it, didn't you?" Serenya's voice cut through the chamber, soft yet absolute.

  The guards exchanged a glance, then bowed in unison.

  "We did, Your Radiance."

  "Then you understand the urgency." Her tone sharpened, the lilt of melody giving way to command. "Summon Commander Cenareth at once. Tell Ruvethar the clergy are to move through every ring of Sar'Vareth and aid those in distress."

  Her gaze fixed on the second guard. "Find the Exarchs. A Vaelirra is to be prepared immediately: one for Commander Valmir in Kar'Sariel, and another for Tharion in Sil'Karrel."

  They bowed again, resolve settling where fear had lingered, and departed. The great doors drew shut with measured grace.

  "What just happened… what was that?" Zoey's voice cut across the chamber. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself, breath still uneven.

  No one answered at once.

  "The thirteenth Ancient is rising," Serenya said at last.

  Zoey blinked. "I—what? We're not actually supposed to fight that thing, right?"

  "No," Serenya replied. The ornate mirror in her hand caught the light as she turned it between her fingers. "Not yet. The thread states that the twelve Ancients carry a weight of Existence. If enough of those Scales are claimed, perhaps the conflict can be subverted."

  Zoey glanced down at her Archive status, faint script reflecting in her eyes. "We have forty-one combined right now," she murmured. Then, looking up, "So we just need nine more to stop the Reckoning? It doesn't say one faction has to hold them, just that half must be claimed."

  Serenya's expression tightened. "No. That seems unlikely. The council raised that very point last night. The thread speaks of when the Reckoning falls, not if."

  "So the Reckoning will come either way," Aeor said quietly. "The Ancient bound to Existence will rise, and if we fall short of fifty Scales, the world will be unmade."

  Serenya inclined her head once. Silence followed, heavy and alive with things unsaid.

  "What even happens during the Reckoning?" Zoey asked.

  "Alvereth believes the Archives have withheld the truth," the Princess said. "Whatever this thread was truly meant for, we will learn only when the Reckoning arrives."

  Zoey drew a slow breath. "Then we need to find another Ancient, one worth at least ten Scales, and appease it."

  Dregor grunted. "That'll be harder than it sounds."

  The chamber doors swung open, cutting the moment short. Commander Cenareth stepped inside.

  "Princess… are you unharmed?" Cenareth's voice carried the tension of restraint, concern threaded beneath discipline.

  "I am well, Cenareth. Deliver your report."

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  Cenareth bowed her head slightly. "Both Exarchs are preparing a Vaelirra. We should receive word from Tharion and Valmir shortly. The visions were not confined to the Sanctum, Your Radiance. They spread through every quarter of the city. All signs suggest they reached beyond our walls."

  She hesitated, a faint tremor in her breath. "There were losses within the Sanctum. Those without a firm Essence foundation suffered most. We fear more among the populace."

  "How many?" the Princess asked. Her voice lost its lilt, settling into calm authority.

  "A few confirmed within the Sanctum," Cenareth said. "We are compiling a full account. Ruvethar has gathered the Wardens and priests. They are preparing to move into the city proper."

  Serenya drew a quiet breath. "Keep me informed. I will address the city once order has been restored."

  "As you command, Your Radiance." Cenareth bowed and withdrew, her footsteps fading behind her.

  The chamber stilled. Serenya turned toward Aeor. The mirror in her hand caught the dim light and scattered it across her face.

  "Alvereth spoke of a bond. He claimed you felt akin to Solenar, yet not the same. Tell me, do you bear a Primordial Aspect?"

  Aeor hesitated. That echo stirred again, first with Alvereth, now here. "Yes," he said at last. "Death."

  The Princess's brows drew together. "Others wield death. What sets you apart from them?"

  Her words settled. He hadn't asked himself that before. He thought of Velora, how death through her felt gentle, almost merciful. His did not. Violet flames flickered through his mind, and with it came the echo of the Archives, the words of his Scion's Requiem striking like a revelation.

  Primeval Death

  "The death I command is different," he said softly. "It is death in its primeval form."

  For a heartbeat, Serenya said nothing. Light played across her features, half shadow, half light, as though she were weighing what she saw in him.

  "And you, Princess?" Aeor asked. "What Aspect do you command?"

  "Command is the wrong word," she answered, lowering her gaze to the mirror. "We guide, not rule. The Solenar bear the Aspect of Light."

  The hours slipped by as the sun bled across the horizon, its light softening from amber to rose before giving way to twilight. The chamber seemed to breathe with the changing sky. Through the open circle of its ceiling, the first stars appeared, faint as scattered embers. Below, the central pool mirrored the shift, its surface deepening from molten gold to the still blue of night.

  By the time moonlight touched the water, the chamber had filled. Figures of rank and standing lined the marble periphery. Envoys from the two allied houses, senior clergy in sun-marked robes, dragon riders with scaled pauldrons, and the two commanders currently in Sar'Vareth.

  The air thrummed with layered voices.

  Plans and theories overlapped as voices rose with purpose. The spoke of orders to expand search parties for anomalies like Sil'Karrel, proposals to infiltrate Thar'Iluneth for information, the need for a public address from the Princess to steady the masses, and rites for lives lost.

  Through it all, Zoey shifted uneasily before speaking. "Princess... are you certain we should be here? These are high matters—"

  Serenya's gaze turned to her, steady but not unkind. "You should remain," she said. "Your presence here is earned. You have seen what others cannot imagine. You stood against the Reclaimers and faced an Ancient itself. That experience may serve us more than you know."

  The chamber quieted as a firm knock echoed against the doors.

  "Enter," Serenya said.

  Two figures stepped inside, their robes marked with the sun-threaded insignia of the clergy. They bowed low before her. Fatigue clung to them, their faces drawn, movements heavy with sleeplessness. The others in the chamber bowed in turn.

  "Exarchs," Serenya said. "Were you able to reach the others?"

  "Yes, Princess," the orc answered, his voice rough and low. "The Vaelirra succeeded. Commander Valmir reports that in Kar'Sariel the visions were the same. The entire settlement saw them."

  The human Exarch exchanged a brief look with his companion before stepping forward. "There is more, Your Radiance. Commander Tharion also sent word. He requests aid."

  Serenya's brow lifted. "Aid? What has transpired?"

  "More Ozarian forces have appeared in the ruins where Morvaketh lies. Hundreds, more than Tharion's Talon could withstand. They managed to collapse part of the ruin, sealing themselves in with Morvaketh's remains, but the Reclaimers are breaking through."

  "What would they want with Morvaketh?" Serenya asked.

  "The Commander believes they intend to raise it again."

  A faint ripple passed through the gathered voices before dying into silence.

  They can still perform the ritual? Did I fail to grant Morvaketh a true death? The thought crossed Aeor's mind.

  Across the chamber, Serenya spoke, her tone even. "Are there patrols nearby with a Vaelirra?"

  The Exarch nodded. "I informed a Talon from Kar'Sariel and they are heading to aid, but it is only four riders."

  He hesitated, words catching.

  Serenya's gaze sharpened. "Speak, Exarch Alon."

  He swallowed once. "The corrupted beasts around Sil'Karrel have begun to move again. They have already overrun Thar'Velune on the northern edge."

  Zoey turned toward Aeor, panic tightening her expression. Neither spoke, but the same name struck them both like a breath drawn too sharply.

  Velora.

  Alon's next words came quietly. "The beasts are moving toward the ruins."

  The chamber fell utterly silent. Even the pool's surface seemed to still as the weight of those words settled over them all.

  "We have to aid Tharion," Ruvethar said, his tusks catching the moonlight. "Dragons are faster. If the riders leave now, they can reach it before the next sunset."

  The room stilled. Every gaze turned toward the Princess, who sat in quiet thought. Her expression betrayed nothing.

  Before she could speak, the doors opened once more. Another figure stepped inside, his presence commanding the same reverence reserved for her.

  Alvereth crossed the threshold with an unreadable expression. The chamber shifted around him, conversations falling away like wind before a storm.

  "I would suggest," Alvereth said in a measured voice, "that we allocate our forces with care."

  Serenya rose from the stone bench. "Alvereth. What word from the Custodians?"

  "Riddles, as always," he replied. "Yet their meaning was clear enough this time. They spoke of binding the Aspects to restore balance. To sustain Existence's advance, the Primordial Aspects must stand united."

  Serenya's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did they reveal where the Ancients who hold these Aspects might be found?"

  "They did," Alvereth said. "The answers lie beneath our ancestral seat. Beneath Aurel'Tharan."

  A hush swept the chamber. Faces turned pale, whispers dying before they formed. All within the chamber knew what name lingered behind those words, what being had claimed the cradle of the Solenar bloodline.

  Vaelkar.

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