Cardinal Benedict seizes the moment, stepping forward with renewed authority. “Lady Cyra is correct.”
He tries to turn my words into his, to reclaim control of the room,but the gathered delegates know better. They heard where the stability came from, and it wasn’t from the Cardinals.
“Security protocols are already being restructured,” Cardinal Maria says. “A breachwill nothappen again.”
Whether the leaders believe her or not, the shouting has stopped. The tension remains under the surface, but the room has found its equilibrium again.
Cardinal Benedict allows a pause, then continues with measured authority. “Now that we have addressed the security matter, we must turn our attention to the Conclave itself. The second trial will commence in two days’ time.”
The shift in topic is deliberate, an attempt to redirect focus from their failures to the competition. Murmurs ripple through the chamber again, but this time with anticipation rather than anger.
“This trial will test not only your individual capabilities,” Cardinal Benedict says, “but your ability to lead and trust others. You will be divided into two teams. Assignments will be determined by random selection to ensure fairness.”
My stomach drops.
“Each team will navigate the Fractured Mirror,” Cardinal Benedict continues, “a labyrinth designed to test wisdom, collaboration, and the courage to trust others when your own perceptions fail you.” He lifts a crystalline sphere that glows from within, light pulsing like a heartbeat. “The maze responds to emotional states and deepest fears. Only by working together can you hope to reach the relic at its centre and win.”
The withdrawal pulses under my ribs. If the maze feeds on fear and emotional instability, I’m already compromised.
Cardinal Benedict gestures to a young Cardinal carrying an ornate box. “Team assignments will be drawn now. The first name called leads Team One.”
The Cardinal reaches into the box. His fingers close around a crystal that flares bright gold.
“Lady Cyra of the Sun Kingdom.”
The words wash over me like a surge.
The room shifts. Eyes lock onto me from every direction. The withdrawal spikes – nausea, vertigo, the desperate need to heal someone,anyone, just to take the edge off. I clasp my hands behind my back so no one sees them shake.
Ren’s presence at my shoulder steadies me. Barely.
“The remaining members of Team One.” The Cardinal draws three more crystals, calling names as each one lights. “Lord Castor of Jupiter. Lady Nerida of Neptune. Lord Evander of Saturn.”
I stare at the assembled names, my mind racing.
Lord Castor, who might still want revenge after I cost him the first trial. Whose contempt for weakness could make him dangerous.
Lady Nerida, who speaks in riddles and sees things the rest of us can’t. Unpredictable at best.
And Lord Evander, who trusts logic over people. Who will calculate every move and expect the same from everyone else.
“Team Two,” Cardinal Benedict continues. “Led by Lord Zevran of Mars. The remaining members: Lady Isolde of Venus. Lady Tavia of Mercury. Commander Kaelix of Uranus.”
The assignments send ripples through the chamber. Zevran has the diplomatic powerhouse: Isolde’s strategy and charisma, Lady Tavia’s quick thinking and communication expertise, and Commander Kaelix’s innovation and technical brilliance. A formidable group that complements each other’s strengths.
Meanwhile, my team looks like a disaster waiting to happen.
Lord Castor grins across the room at me – threat and calculation both visible in his expression. Lord Evander’s face stays neutral, but I see him already running probabilities, measuring variables. Lady Nerida seems unsurprised, as if she’d seen this outcome before it happened. Her ocean eyes meet mine, and something in her gaze sends a chill down my spine.
Cardinal Maria steps forward. “You have two days to prepare. Study your teammates. Understand their strengths. The Fractured Mirror shows no mercy to divided teams.” Her eyes sweep the room, lingering on me for just a moment too long. “Those who cannot learn to trust will not survive.”
The dismissal is clear. Delegates begin filing out, team members gravitating toward each other with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Zevran stands just close enough that I feel his presence, solid andgrounding. But he can’t help me now. Not when we’re on opposing teams. Ren remains behind me, silent and watchful, her doubt about the Cardinals still visible in the careful way she holds herself.
As the delegates spill into the corridors beyond, some cast glances back at me as they leave, their expressions ranging from curiosity, to calculation … to what might be respect.
The corridor outside the Hall of Houses feels like the aftermath of a storm that hasn’t quite passed. Delegates gather in tight clusters, voices hushed but urgent, eyes cutting sideways at rival Houses. The tension from inside has followed us out, clinging to the air like static before lightning.
