The sun climbed higher as the procession neared High Lumen. The city shimmered like a mirage upon the plain: white walls stretching skyward, banners of gold rippling in the wind. Each banner bore the sigil of the Council—an open flame cradled by a circle of radiance. To outsiders, it was a symbol of hope. To those who had seen the Council's judgments, it was a mark of fear.
Elira clutched the reins of her mare tightly, heart thundering in her chest. The closer they drew, the more suffocating the air became. It was as though the walls themselves whispered of trials, of flames waiting to consume.
Beside her, Kaelen sat rigid, his jaw set. The wound at his side still troubled him, but pride held him upright. His gaze lingered on the towers. For him, this was no homecoming. It was a battlefield he had sworn never to walk again.
Sir Alrik raised a gauntleted hand, and the column halted before the great gate. Its doors were carved from blackened oak, reinforced with steel, etched with scriptures in languages Elira could not read. At the gate's heart, a great brazier burned without fuel, its flames eternal.
"Open!" Alrik bellowed.
The doors groaned as they swung wide.
---
Entering the City
The streets within were thronged with people. Merchants, beggars, pilgrims—all pressed close to watch the knights ride through. Children held their mothers' skirts, staring wide-eyed at the prisoners in the center.
"Elira," Kaelen murmured without moving his lips. "Do not meet their eyes. They will feed on your fear."
She obeyed, though the weight of their stares pressed down like iron chains. Whispers followed them. The prince has returned. The girl with fire. Judgment is near.
The city was beautiful, yes—arches of white stone, fountains spilling crystal water, bridges laced with flowers—but beneath the beauty lay silence. No laughter, no music. Only the shuffle of feet and the murmur of prayer. A city of faith, yet absent of joy.
---
POV: Corin
Corin slipped into the city through a gap in the crowd, heart hammering. He kept to the shadows, his lantern hidden beneath his cloak. Every corner was guarded, every street patrolled. Yet the boy moved with the nimbleness of one raised in alleys.
He would find where they took Elira and Kaelen. He would not leave them alone in this nest of fire-birds.
---
The Hall of Light
At last, the procession halted before the Hall of Light—a cathedral carved into the mountain's base. Its pillars soared like the trunks of ancient trees, its windows aglow with colored glass that bathed the steps in shifting rainbows.
The prisoners were led inside. The hall's vastness swallowed them: rows of benches filled with scribes and supplicants, balconies where priests watched in silence. At the far end stood the Council dais, a semicircle of thrones raised above all others. Each throne bore a high seat occupied by a figure robed in white and gold.
The Council of Light.
Elira felt her knees weaken. Never had she stood before such power, so united, so commanding. Their faces were stern masks, eyes gleaming like polished stone.
A man at the center rose. His robe was brighter than the rest, embroidered with suns. His voice carried without strain.
"Prince Kaelen of Araveth. And the girl who commands flame. You stand before the Council. Your fate lies in the Light's judgment."
---
Kaelen's Defiance
Kaelen dismounted with effort, his movements slow but proud. He looked upon the Council with cool disdain.
"My fate," he said, his voice echoing, "is my own. I did not return to kneel."
A stir ran through the assembly. Gasps, whispers, scratching of quills as scribes bent furiously to record his words.
The central figure—High Inquisitor Malrik—regarded him calmly. "You speak as though you have choice, boy. You fled your duty once. Now you return in chains."
Kaelen's lip curled. "Better chains than blind obedience."
The hall bristled with disapproval. But Elira saw something else in Kaelen's eyes—pain, grief, and a rage held at bay only by will.
---
Elira's Examination
Then the Council's gaze fell upon her. Elira felt it like flame on her skin. She wanted to shrink, to vanish, but there was no refuge in that hall.
One of the Councilors, a woman with silver hair braided into a crown, leaned forward. Her voice was sharp. "You—what are you?"
Elira opened her mouth, but no words came.
"She is no one," Alrik said quickly. "A peasant girl. She bears the flame, yes, but without training. Dangerous. Reckless."
The Council murmured. Dangerous. Reckless. The words spread like sparks on dry grass.
Elira's chest constricted. She wanted to protest, to defend herself, but fear sealed her lips.
---
POV: Scribe Theon
Theon dipped his quill, eyes darting between the girl and the prince. He had copied judgments for years, had seen the condemned weep and rage. But this girl's silence unsettled him. She looked less like a criminal and more like a lamb led to slaughter.
Still, he wrote. The girl bears flame. Dangerous. Reckless.
History, he knew, was not truth. It was ink.
---
Interrogation
High Inquisitor Malrik raised a hand, and the hall quieted. "This girl's power must be tested. If she is a gift of the Light, she will be spared. If she is a curse—she will be purged."
Kaelen stepped forward, fury blazing in his eyes. "You will not touch her."
Guards moved instantly, spears crossing before him.
Malrik's lips curved in something not quite a smile. "Ah. So the prince protects her. Curious. Perhaps the flame has already ensnared him."
Laughter rippled through the Council.
Elira's cheeks burned, shame and anger twining within her. She wanted to speak, to shout—but her throat felt bound.
---
POV: Sir Deylan
In the shadows near the pillars, Sir Deylan watched. He saw the girl's trembling, the prince's defiance, the Council's scorn. His heart twisted.
Once, he had believed this hall sacred. Now it reeked of pride more than piety. He clenched his fist. His oath bound him to obedience, but his soul whispered rebellion.
---
The Verdict
Malrik raised his staff. "Bring the girl to the Sanctum. Tomorrow, at dawn, she will be tested by flame."
The words fell like a hammer.
Elira swayed, her vision narrowing. Tested by flame. The phrase could mean only one thing.
Kaelen's voice rang out, fierce and unyielding. "If you harm her, you will answer to me."
But the Council only laughed. Guards seized Elira's arms, pulling her back.
Corin, hidden among the scribes' benches, bit his lip until it bled. He would not let them take her. Somehow, somehow, he would find a way.
---
Closing Beat
As the Council dispersed, the hall echoed with prayers and whispers. Elira was dragged toward the inner chambers, Kaelen shoved into chains once more.
The eternal flame above the dais roared higher, as though hungering.
High Inquisitor Malrik watched them go, his eyes cold. "Tomorrow," he murmured, "truth will burn."
And High Lumen, city of light, waited eagerly for the fire to come.