For Delphine, it went still.
The expected light never came.
Not even a fraction of gold.
Then the color lifted out of her Mark.
A thin, pale thread rose from her skin and hovered above the basin.
Delphine’s fingers tightened on the rim, her knuckles white.
When the thread vanished, the Mark on her forearm was paler than before.
Less there.
Quill stared at the Mark for a long moment.
Then he said, “A Dimming has been observed.”
That was the word for what was happening to Delphine.
The one she had been asking for.
The one they had withheld until the moment it could be used against her.
Dimming.
The hall held still.
Delphine took her hand from the basin.
She didn’t look at me.
Caswell was already at the west door with Linden.
That was when I understood: this had never been a reading.
It had been a choreographed exit.
Quill murmured something none of us could hear to Delphine.
Whatever it was, it made her look once toward the west door.
Then she walked toward Linden and Caswell.
Linden opened the door.
The name from yesterday moved through me.
Zenith Tower.
Caswell set a hand on Delphine’s shoulder, light as a courtesy and final as a lock.
She passed through.
Caswell followed.
The door closed.
