đź“–
Chapter 22 – Trial by Fire
The council chamber of Valebridge was a cavernous hall of stone, where every word seemed to echo with judgment. Torches burned low in their iron sconces, their light casting long, accusing shadows across the council's stern faces.
At the center stood Nyra Veylock, chains binding her wrists. Her fiery hair framed a face carved from defiance, though deep in her chest the flame of doubt flickered.
The herald's voice rang through the hall:
"Nyra Veylock, once hailed as savior, now accused of treason against crown and kingdom. You stand before the council to answer for your crimes."
Gasps rippled through the gallery. Citizens, soldiers, and merchants had gathered, eager for spectacle. Some looked at Nyra with sympathy. Others with suspicion. And too many with hatred.
From the high seat, Kaelith Stormborn, young heir of Valebridge, shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his golden circlet. His eyes met Nyra's for only a moment before darting away, uncertain, torn.
At his side stood Corvin Ashbane, draped in black silk, his lips curled in a serpent's smile. His voice cut the silence like a blade.
"She stands accused of consorting with Malakar, the Shadow Sovereign," he declared, producing the forged parchment. "This letter proves her betrayal. Maps, routes, strategies—all gifted to our greatest enemy. Tell me, councilors… how many soldiers have already died because of her treachery?"
The chamber erupted in murmurs. The forged letter was passed from hand to hand, eyes widening with every false word.
Nyra's chest burned hotter than any flame she could summon. "Lies," she spat. "Every word. Forged ink and poisoned tongues. You think I would bleed for this kingdom only to sell it to the one who seeks to burn it?"
Corvin's smirk deepened. "Bleed for it? Or bleed it dry?"
Kaelith raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. His voice trembled.
"Nyra… if you are innocent, swear it before the Emberstone."
The Emberstone.
A relic older than the kingdom itself, pulsing with truth-fire. No one could speak a lie while touching its surface. It had judged kings and queens, generals and thieves.
The guards brought forth the stone, setting it before her. Its surface glowed faintly, as though sensing her presence.
Nyra hesitated only a moment before placing her chained hands upon it. The Emberstone flared, bathing her in crimson light.
Her voice rang steady, unwavering:
"I have not betrayed Valebridge. I have not consorted with Malakar. I fight for this kingdom, even when it turns its back on me."
The stone pulsed, brighter and brighter, filling the hall with fiery warmth. The audience gasped — the Emberstone did not flare for liars.
But before relief could take hold, Corvin stepped forward, his smile unbroken.
"And yet," he purred, "you admit to carrying within you the same flame that destroyed half our armies before you ever swore loyalty. What are you, if not a weapon waiting to consume us all? Can a kingdom truly trust a wildfire not to burn?"
The councilors murmured again, torn between the truth of her innocence and the fear of her power.
Kaelith looked at Nyra with eyes filled with sorrow.
"The council must decide," he said softly.
The gavel fell.
Until the council's verdict was reached, Nyra would remain imprisoned in the deepest dungeons of Valebridge.
As guards dragged her away, her gaze locked with Corvin's. His smile widened, victorious.
But deep in the shadows of the chamber, Eryndor Flamebearer clenched his fists. He had seen enough. If the council chose fear over truth, then he would choose rebellion over silence.