The chamber rippled with unease after Kael's words. Even the braziers along the blackstone walls seemed to burn lower, as though the fire itself feared to intrude on the tension.
The High Regent's smile did not falter, though his knuckles whitened on the carved arm of his seat.
"Such boldness. Such certainty." His voice flowed like oil across stone. "But this Court deals not in words… only proof. Tell us, Kael Rivenhart—what will you do to show you are not what the prophecy claims?"
The word—prophecy—was bait. It was flung like a hook into the air, meant to set whispers alight. And it did. The nobles stirred. Some muttered prayers. Others exchanged sharp glances.
Kael felt the weight of Lyra's stare. She whispered low.
"Careful. Every syllable you speak now will echo for decades. One wrong step, and they will brand you already guilty."
Darric scoffed under his breath. "Let them test him. If they want proof, he can carve it into their marble floors with his blade."
But Kael's answer was calm, steady—like a storm contained, waiting to be unleashed.
"Then test me. If the Court doubts, let it name its trial. I will face it. Not with masks or whispers, but steel."
The silence cracked like ice beneath a heavy boot.
From the right wing of the hall, a noblewoman in a golden mask rose. She moved with elegance, but her eyes were shards of frost.
"Then so be it. Let the boy fight. Let him bleed where all may see."
Others followed quickly—some with hunger, others with fear. Voices layered atop each other until the hall shook with clamor.
Isryn, ever the shadow, leaned close again. Her voice was a thin thread amid the storm.
"They've already chosen. This was arranged long before you entered the hall."
Kael's jaw tightened. His crimson eyes lifted to the dais.
"And what trial will you set before me?"
The High Regent's smile widened, thin as a knife's edge.
"Tonight, when the moon hangs highest, you will descend into the Hollow Pit. Face what dwells there. Survive, and perhaps we believe you. Fall, and the Veil claims another pretender."
Gasps spread through the chamber. Even Lyra's breath caught.
"The Hollow Pit… they'll feed you to madness itself."
Kael only stood taller. His hand brushed the hilt of his blade, not in threat, but in vow.
"Then I will carve my truth into its darkness."
The Court's masks glittered, hungry for spectacle. Already wagers were whispered, already daggers were sharpened in shadows.
But as Kael turned from the dais, Isryn's whisper bound itself to his ear like a curse.
"The Pit is not merely a trial. It is a message. They want you broken—or remade into something you cannot control."
Kael said nothing, but the weight of her words lingered, heavy as the blade at his side.