Applauses died, but the hall did not calm. The court of Valmira stirred like a hive disturbed—robes rustled, metal sighed. Elijah felt their eyes more than he saw them. Whispers slid through the air: "A hero?" "A curse?" "A seer?"
He stood alone in the sunlight spilling through stained glass. King Aldric did not rise. He watched Elijah with quiet, measured intensity, studying him as a man weighs the weight of a sword he might have to draw.
"You… you hear things others cannot?" the king said, voice calm but piercing. "Tell me—whose words move your tongue?"
Elijah's mouth went dry. He swallowed, then said, "It called itself Av-Riel."
The hall froze, then shattered. "Av-Riel?" "Blasphemy!" "God's name is Auvriel!" The priests began chanting, their prayers colliding like crashing waves. Guards shifted uneasily. A heat of tension pressed down from the balconies to the mosaic floors.
A guard near the dais whispered, "Gods protect us… he named Avriel." Another crossed himself, murmuring a swift prayer. The torches flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Aldric raised a hand. The hall stilled, obeying him as if the very walls listened. His gaze fixed on Elijah. "If you lie, the gods will judge. If you speak truth, none here are fit to. Court is dismissed."
The nobles backed away, muttering blessings as though words could stave off contagion. The last echo of sandals vanished behind the closing doors.
Aldric descended the dais. Up close, his crown seemed too small for the years on his face. "You've spoken what should not be named," he said quietly. "In Valmira, tongues start wars faster than swords. One misplaced word—one—can cost a life. Go learn what you have stumbled into before someone declares your ignorance heresy."
He turned to a knight. "Sir Kael, take him to the High Scholar."
Kael saluted. "Yes, my king."
The corridors cooled as they walked. Sunlight fractured through long panes of glass, painting Elijah's robe in moving gold. Kael's armor clinked softly. "You should mind how you name the divine," the knight said without turning. "Here, one word decides if you live—or die."
"I'm beginning to understand," Elijah answered.
They descended a stair into a vast library whose air smelled of paper and oil. Shelves climbed into shadow. At the center sat an old man surrounded by candles and tangled glass lenses.
"Scholar Mereth," Kael announced. "By the king's command—the summoned one seeks understanding."
Mereth looked up, eyes clouded yet sharp. "Another hero," he said. "Or something worse?"
Kael bowed out, leaving them in the hush of pages.
"Sit," Mereth said. Elijah obeyed. The old man turned a lens, catching light across the table. "You have spoken a name that is not spoken. Best you learn why it is feared."
Elijah leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Mereth's gaze drifted, his voice low and measured. "Auvriel, Sareth, Dornas… they all claim to be the one true god. But perhaps… perhaps they are all the same face, or perhaps I'm just mad."
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "You think they're all the same?"
Mereth nodded, a small, uncertain smile on his lips. "I do. Different voices, different genders… but the message is always the same. A dance of masks, perhaps."
The candles guttered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Outside, bells tolled over Cloud. Voices rose from the city, murmuring names with awe and fear. The distant drums of the citadel signaled that the council of the High Lords would convene under the moon, a summit that would decide whether the "Divine Messenger" lived or died.
Elijah turned toward the window. Between towers and banners, he thought he saw a single thread of light stretched across the sky—thin as a hair, bright as fate. And for the first time, he was unsure who held it.