:: Go to him. You must. ::
The corner of her eye twitched, and she pressed her hand against her forehead. Dizziness assailed her. A pounding headache. How long had she been sitting here? Was the ceremony over now? How would she explain her absence? Would anyone notice? The only time someone remarked on her absence was if she was late to the morning Litany.
However, this wasn’t the Chant or a Procession. The Sokâr’s presence was expected, but not required. The Reckoning would be as grand as always. Kailorien’s onyx cape would trail behind him, a banner of victory in scintillating Polis-light. Aethersteel would gleam, the Resh’Agar’s runic armor—Morvane—making him look taller, like the shadow of the Spines over the Emerald Moores.
Attendantswould throw flowers in his path while the Reskala stood in proud salute. His Second, Thrassus, would try to fill Zarrek’s role with honor as he trailed behind his Sovereign. The People would kneel, and all would sign and pray in unison. Priests would raise their hands in prayer while the People chanted his name in rhythmic song.
Resh…Resh…Resh…Resh…
The Arm of the Void was home.
Glory to the Destroyer.
Hypocrisy, more like. Celebrating the pain of a man who held up the world.
Auryn should have been there. By all rights and laws, she should have stood atop the Penance Stair and given him the Void’s true blessing. Instead, she'd crawled here to mourn him. To give into her fear, for once. Odd that Lu’ma hadn’t tried to stop her. Auryn glanced around again, then looked down at herself.
Lu’ma must have helped me dress.
She wore her Sokâr’s ritual gown. It gleamed with gems and mana thread, white as sunlight shining through the clouds at daybreak. But over it, she wore a thick brown shawl to guard against the chill of Ice.
Why would I have donned the gown when I knew I wasn’t going to attend the ceremony?
She sighed and curled her toes. No shoes, though. She hated them. Without the press of the ground beneath her feet, she felt she might float away sometimes. In thought. In body. And in heart. Especially when Kailorien was gone.
Time moved slowly in the silence of Krystopolis, but it did not heal wounds. Scars and hurts lingered—festering and swelling, growing until their pain overrode all memory.
And now, he had returned.
Or had he?
Over half a century had passed since he’d crowned her Sokâr. As the years peeled away, Auryn had prayed they would grow closer. She’dchosenhim. Gone with him despite her vision of a troubled future. She’dknownthe cost of his regard—had been prepared to pay the price to stay with him in darkness. But the only thing that had grown between them was a void more vast than any the Destroyer wielded.
Though she was Sokâr, she had no place at Council. She had no say in anything of import. Assigned only a single Attendant. Excluded from social customs and invitations. Mocked in shadow. Worshiped in false light. She was a symbol. A placeholder. An ornament displayed in Doctrine festivals then locked back in her room until the next event.
I have no voice to speak for him.No words powerful enough to save him. Or myself.
The black marble floor tiles before her blurred.
Let the masses cheer the blood-stained crown.Let the world bow for the illusion of the Resh’Agar, for I will not.
My Kailorien… that is all you ever were to me…
His name echoed in her thoughts. Again and again until the plea eclipsed even the humming of the Shields within her jaded senses. Until her longing for him grew so vast she locked it deep inside her heart to keep afloat within its waters.
Then—quiet.
Not the kind that followed celebration, but the kind thatpressed.
Soft. Dense. Real.
Her breath froze in her lungs.
A presence approached.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Armored. Cautious.
