Whispers in the Hall
The marble hall of the Silent Throne stretched like a cathedral, each echoing step swallowed by the vaulted ceilings above. Murmurs rippled through the gathered nobles, hushed voices darting between velvet sleeves and jeweled collars. No one spoke openly; in this court, even whispers carried the risk of erasure.
The decree had come at dawn. House Valemont, accused of treachery, had been silenced. Not executed, not exiled—silenced. Their name stripped from records, their banners torn from the walls, their children erased from the line of succession. It was as though they had never existed. The Crown of Silence demanded obedience, and it would have nothing less.
I stood at the edge of the hall, the weight of silence pressing on my chest. My father had once told me loyalty was the coin of kingdoms, but here, fear was the currency that bought survival. And I, bound by duty yet gnawed by doubt, could not decide if I had come to witness strength or ruin.
At the far end of the chamber, the Sovereign rose. Draped in obsidian robes, crowned not with gold but with the authority of silence itself, he let the hush settle until even the flicker of torches seemed too loud.
"Unity," his voice cut like steel, "is not born of noise. It is forged in silence. Those who oppose the Crown oppose the peace it protects." His gaze swept the hall, and heads bowed like reeds in a storm. "Let Valemont's fate be your reminder."
A chill slipped down my spine. Eyes met mine across the chamber—Duchess Serenya, sharp as glass, her expression unreadable. She tilted her head, just slightly, and in that motion I caught the flicker of defiance. Not all were cowed. Some were calculating.
Later, as the court dispersed into clusters of hollow courtesies, I felt a brush at my sleeve. A folded scrap of parchment slipped into my palm, the ink still damp from a hurried quill. No words were exchanged; none were needed. I pocketed it before the guards' eyes could find it.
Yet even without unfolding it, I knew: the silence was cracking. Whispers were sharpening into blades.
When the hall emptied and I turned to leave, a shadow intercepted me—an armored hand on my shoulder, firm and cold. "The Sovereign summons you," the guard intoned.
I had been seen. I had been marked.
And now, silence had chosen me.