The doors shut behind the Guardians with a low, heavy thud that echoed through the hall before slowly fading into the high ceiling.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
Mira remained near the center of the hall with her hands folded neatly in front of her, while the Seven Blessed stood scattered across the room where their Guardians had left them. Without the older warriors surrounding them, something about the group suddenly seemed different, although Mira couldn't quite place what it was.
She had seen each of them during their arrival, of course, but there had hardly been time to truly look at them. There had been Guardians, Keepers, attendants, ceremonies, introductions, and a hundred other things demanding her attention.
Now there was nothing stopping her.
Her eyes first settled on Cael Varin.
The Arbiter of Elyndra stood only a few paces away, his bright orange hair immediately distinguishing him from everyone around him. He was shorter than Mira had expected and softer around the face and body, with pale golden eyes set beneath features that still looked unmistakably young. Yet the way he carried himself fought against that youthfulness. His back remained perfectly straight, his shoulders relaxed but never slouched, and his hands rested neatly behind him as though someone had spent years teaching him precisely how a Blessed of Elyndra should stand.
His clothing was just as immaculate. White fabric layered beneath pale gold embroidery, every fold sitting where it was supposed to and not a single clasp out of place. Even his expression carried the same careful precision, a calm and pleasant smile that seemed perfectly suited to someone bearing the mark of the Goddess of Order.
He looked exactly how Mira imagined Elyndra's Blessed should look.
Beside him stood Serenya Thaloriel, Aenvara's Verdant Heart.
Her dark red hair fell around the pointed tips of her ears and contrasted against the dark red dress she wore, while a black shawl rested over her shoulders with thin golden edges tracing its ends. She was slender, even for an elf, although there was nothing frail about the way she stood.
Unlike Cael, however, Serenya seemed incapable of keeping her attention in one place.
While everyone else waited, her green eyes wandered across the ancient carvings covering the nearby pillars, then toward the enormous windows, then briefly toward one of the plants growing near the edge of the hall before returning to the group. Even then, it was only a few seconds before something else caught her attention.
Mira's gaze moved farther back.
Rokhan Graal stood slightly separated from the others.
The Crimson Fang was bald, and although his body had begun filling out since his selection, he was still thinner than Mira had imagined an Orc chosen by Draveth would be. She had seen warriors from Gravann before. Most were enormous, heavily muscled people who seemed to fill every doorway they walked through.
Rokhan wasn't like them.
Not yet, at least.
His leather jacket was thick and practical, with fur lining its edges and shoulders, while equally heavy pants covered his legs. Nothing about the clothing appeared ceremonial. It looked made for cold nights, hard work, and surviving things rather than impressing anyone.
There were scars visible where the jacket didn't cover him, some older than others, and his hands looked rough despite his age.
He stood quietly with his arms crossed, watching everyone without making any effort to join them.
Then there was Elyra Vosin.
Mira had met Eidoryn before, but she still found herself staring slightly longer than she intended.
The Chronicle's body was unmistakably artificial at first glance and yet strangely alive the longer Mira looked at her. Smooth metallic features formed a face that was almost unnaturally beautiful, shaped with the same precision as a statue but moving with subtle expressions that made it impossible to mistake her for one. Her eyes glowed with a soft blue light, matching the luminous Core visible beneath the layers of crystalline alloy protecting her chest.
Her hair fascinated Mira most.
At first, it looked silver.
Then Elyra shifted her head toward one of the windows, and the strands moved with her.
They were made of liquid metal.
Light traveled across them in thin ripples, making sections shine like polished silver before fading again. Yet they didn't move like metal. They fell over her shoulders with the same softness and weight as ordinary hair, each strand separating and flowing so naturally that Mira almost wanted to reach out and touch it just to understand what she was looking at.
A dark blue dress covered most of Elyra's metallic body, with fine silver lining running along the edges and sleeves. Thin Memory Etchings remained visible along her neck, hands, and portions of her face, faint lines that seemed almost decorative until Mira remembered what they represented.
Then Mira found Narethos's Blessed.
Kaelric Varr had apparently decided that standing with everyone else required too much effort.
He had stretched himself across one of the long cushioned benches lining the hall, one leg hanging lazily over its edge while the other remained bent beneath him. Short, pitch black fur covered his body, becoming slightly thicker around his head, cheeks, and neck before disappearing beneath the collar of his uniform. Against the dark fabric, his fur nearly blended into his clothing, broken only by the fine gold trimming that followed the edges of his collar, sleeves, and chest.
One arm rested beneath his head while the other hung loosely over the side, and his black tail had fallen across the opposite end of the bench, occasionally flicking against the cushion whenever something in the room caught his attention.
But it was his face that held Mira's attention.
Or rather, what covered it.
A mask concealed most of Kaelric's features, divided into two expressions that should not have belonged together. One half wore a subtle smile, almost amused by whatever it was looking at, while the other seemed to weep, its expression pulled into quiet grief.
The two halves met perfectly down the center.
Mira knew the mask.
Everyone in the Concord did.
It had appeared upon him during his selection by Narethos.
Still, seeing it in person was different.
There was something unsettling about looking toward someone and having no idea what expression waited beneath the face his god had given him.
Kaelric's head shifted slightly in her direction.
Mira immediately moved her eyes away.
Unfortunately, they landed on Tova Brimestone.
The Emberforged looked as though she had dressed for a completely different occasion than everyone else.
Her skin was a deep brown, contrasting with the mixture of dark and gray hair surrounding her face. Thick gray streaks cut through the darker strands despite her age, and her hair itself seemed only loosely controlled, as though she'd done the minimum necessary to keep it out of her eyes before deciding there were more important things to do.
An oversized white dress shirt hung from her small frame, its sleeves rolled several times around her forearms. Thick black pants and heavy boots made up the rest of her clothing. Mira could see faint stains around some of the cuffs that had stubbornly survived washing, and several small marks across her hands that looked suspiciously like burns.
For someone personally chosen by Thalenor, she looked remarkably unimpressed by everything around her.
At the moment, her eyes were fixed on the thin lines carved into the floor. One of her fingers moved slightly in the air as she followed the path of the nearest line without actually touching it.
Mira made another mental note to watch her.
Finally, her attention reached Silas Drevin.
The Pale Requiem stood near the back of the group with his arms relaxed at his sides. Silver scales covered his visible skin, catching the light whenever he moved and giving him a pale shine that contrasted sharply with the dark clothing wrapped around his body.
Layers of black and dark purple martial fabric covered him, fitted for movement rather than ceremony.
He looked the most like what Mira had expected a Blessed to be.
There was strength in the way he stood, even at sixteen, and the calmness surrounding him didn't seem practiced in the same way Cael's did. He simply watched the others with a quiet expression, occasionally shifting his silver scaled hands but otherwise making no effort to draw attention toward himself.
Seven Blessed.
Seven people personally touched by the Gods.
Mira slowly looked across them again.
Cael noticed.
"Lady Mira, is something wrong?"
Mira immediately straightened.
"Nothing at all, Lord Cael."
There was a moment of silence before a voice came lazily from the bench.
"You've been staring at us."
Mira turned toward Kaelric, who hadn't bothered lifting his head from the arm beneath it.
"I was merely observing, Lord Kaelric."
"Observing sounds like staring with permission."
"It is considerably different."
"How long were you observing us?"
"Not long."
"Eleven seconds," Elyra said.
Mira slowly turned toward her.
"Twelve if we include the time before Lord Cael asked whether something was wrong."
Kaelric's mask turned toward Elyra.
"I like you."
"I haven't formed an opinion yet."
"Give it time."
Mira felt warmth creeping into her face and quickly straightened the front of her robes.
"I apologize if I was being discourteous."
Kaelric waved one hand lazily.
"I don't care. Although you did spend quite a while staring at my face."
Mira froze.
"I was looking at your mask."
"Of course."
Mira hesitated.
She had wanted to ask since he'd arrived, but asking about something placed upon him during the Descent seemed almost disrespectful.
Kaelric seemed to notice.
"You want to know why I wear it?"
Mira glanced at the strange half smiling, half weeping face.
"If you are comfortable answering."
By now, Serenya had turned toward him as well.
"So do I," she admitted.
Tova looked over from the floor.
"I assumed his face was ugly."
Kaelric's tail stopped.
Slowly, almost painfully, he lifted his head from his arm and pushed himself upright as though Tova had just struck him somewhere far more vulnerable than his body.
"My face?"
Tova shrugged.
"Why else cover it?"
Kaelric placed one hand over his chest and stared at her through the two faced mask as if struggling to comprehend the cruelty of what he had just heard.
"I'll have you know the exact opposite is true."
He rose from the bench with sudden purpose, smoothing the front of his black uniform before stepping into the open space between them. Then he spread both arms wide, his tail sweeping behind him as though the entire hall had transformed into a stage meant solely for him.
"I was born so devastatingly handsome that Narethos himself realized allowing mortal eyes to gaze upon my face would be irresponsible."
Silence.
Mira stared at him.
Serenya's hand rose toward her mouth.
Kaelric wasn't finished.
He took another slow step forward and pressed one hand solemnly against his chest while raising the other toward the vaulted ceiling, speaking with all the seriousness of a priest delivering scripture.
"Men would despair. Women would abandon their husbands. Artists would break their brushes knowing they could never recreate me, and kingdoms would tear themselves apart for the privilege of witnessing my face from a respectable distance."
He slowly lowered his raised arm, allowing the silence to settle around him before touching two fingers against the weeping half of his mask.
"The mask isn't for me."
He turned his masked face toward Tova.
"It's for all of you."
Tova stared at him.
"I'm starting to think ugly was right."
Serenya broke first, laughter slipping past the hand covering her mouth.
Rokhan lowered his head, but not quickly enough to hide the brief pull at the corner of his mouth.
Cael remained composed, although one eyebrow rose slightly.
"That seems unlikely."
Kaelric immediately turned toward him.
"Jealousy is unbecoming of Elyndra's Blessed."
"I assure you, jealousy has nothing to do with it."
Kaelric tapped the smiling half of his mask.
"Narethos disagrees."
Mira looked at him for another second as he returned to the bench with all the dignity of someone who believed he had just won an argument no one else had agreed to participate in.
She couldn't tell whether a single word of that had been true.
Somehow, she suspected that was exactly what he wanted.
She took a quiet breath and reminded herself of what her grandfather had asked of her.
"My grandfather has entrusted me with your care until he returns from the Council meeting. If there is anything any of you require while you remain within the Concord, you need only ask."
"Anything?" Tova asked.
"Within reason, Lady Tova."
Tova immediately glanced toward the floor again.
Mira followed her eyes.
"No."
Tova looked back at her.
"I didn't ask anything."
"You were about to."
"You don't know that."
"You've been staring at the defensive array for the last several minutes."
Tova looked down at the thin geometric lines carved into the stone.
"I was only looking."
"Please continue doing only that."
Tova crouched slightly, bringing herself closer to one of the carvings.
"Lady Tova."
"I didn't touch it."
"Your hand was moving toward it."
"I look with my hands."
"Please don't."
Tova looked up at her for several seconds before reluctantly straightening again.
"Fine."
"Thank you."
Mira made a quiet mental note that Thalenor's Blessed was not to be left alone anywhere near the Concord's arrays.
Once Tova stepped away from the markings, Mira returned her attention to the entire group.
"There is actually something I believe we should do before my grandfather returns."
Cael turned toward her immediately.
"Of course. What did you have in mind?"
"I don't believe any of you have properly introduced yourselves."
A few confused expressions met her.
Kaelric had already returned to lying across the bench, apparently exhausted by the tremendous burden of protecting civilization from his appearance.
"We know who everyone is."
"You know their titles," Mira corrected him. "You know Lord Cael as the Arbiter, Lady Serenya as the Verdant Heart, Lord Rokhan as the Crimson Fang, Lady Elyra as the Chronicle, Lord Kaelric as the Whispered Smile, Lady Tova as the Emberforged, and Lord Silas as the Pale Requiem. But knowing what the world has begun calling someone is not the same as knowing the person carrying that title."
Kaelric stared at her through the mask.
"That was surprisingly reasonable."
Mira frowned.
"Were you expecting otherwise?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Cael cleared his throat.
"I believe Lady Mira is correct. Considering the circumstances, formal introductions would probably be appropriate."
Tova glanced at his immaculate white and gold clothing, then at the perfectly straight way he was standing.
"You really like doing things properly, don't you?"
Cael's smile didn't move.
"I don't see anything wrong with that."
"I didn't say there was."
There was something almost too precise about the way he carried himself. His back remained straight, his hands rested properly behind him, and even with Tova openly examining him now, the pleasant expression on his face barely changed.
Mira had seen that kind of discipline before.
She had practiced it herself.
She placed one hand lightly against her chest.
"Then allow me to begin. My name is Mira Vale. I am sixteen years old, a priestess of the Concord, and granddaughter and protégé of Senior Keeper Orren Vale. My grandfather has entrusted me with assisting all of you while you remain here, and I hope that I can be of service during your stay."
She bowed.
When she raised her head again, Kaelric's mask was turned directly toward her.
"That was incredibly formal."
"It was an introduction."
"I think you somehow made your own name sound ceremonial."
Mira's expression tightened.
Cael spoke before she could answer.
"I thought it was appropriate."
Kaelric rolled onto his side and propped his masked face against one hand.
"Of course you did."
Cael maintained his smile.
"I suppose I can begin."
He stepped forward and adjusted the edge of his clothing before placing one hand over his chest. The movement was smooth enough that Mira suspected he had practiced it many times, although she had enough courtesy not to mention it.
"Cael Varin, Blessed of Elyndra and bearer of her mark. I come from Valmyr, and although my selection was unexpected, I intend to honor the responsibility Her Grace has placed upon me and represent my Dominion as faithfully as I am able."
His delivery was nearly perfect.
Mira couldn't help but feel impressed.
He sounded exactly like someone chosen by Elyndra should sound.
Even Kaelric remained quiet for a moment.
Then his masked head tilted.
"Do you always talk like that?"
Cael's eyes shifted toward him, but the rest of his posture remained perfectly still.
"I don't understand what you mean."
"Like someone's writing everything down."
"I'm simply introducing myself."
"Right."
Kaelric's tail flicked once against the bench.
Cael's fingers tightened behind his back, so briefly that Mira might have missed it had she not already been watching him. His smile, however, never changed.
Mira had the distinct impression that neither of them particularly trusted the other.
"What did you do before the Descent, Lord Cael?" she asked.
Cael paused for only a moment.
"My life before the Descent was fairly ordinary. I studied, worked when I was able, and lived much as anyone else my age might have."
Kaelric lifted his head.
"That was impressively vague."
"There isn't much worth telling."
"That's usually what people say when there's something worth telling."
Cael turned his head toward him, still wearing the same pleasant expression.
"I'll remember that when we reach you."
Kaelric slowly lowered his head back onto the cushion.
"I knew I liked you."
Serenya stepped forward next.
"My name is Serenya Thaloriel. I'm sixteen, and I come from Thalenwood. Before Aenvara chose me, I was studying to become a healer."
Mira smiled warmly.
"It is an honor to meet you properly, Lady Serenya."
Serenya smiled back before her attention drifted almost immediately toward Elyra.
More specifically, toward Elyra's arm.
Elyra noticed.
"You may ask."
Serenya's expression immediately brightened.
"Can you feel your shell?"
"Yes."
Serenya took a small step closer, her eyes following the faint etchings running across Elyra's metallic wrist.
"All of it?"
"Most of it."
"Can you feel temperature through it?"
"Yes."
Another half step brought her close enough that Mira could already tell where this was going.
"What about pressure?"
"Yes."
"Pain?"
"Unfortunately."
Serenya leaned slightly to one side, trying to see where the smooth metal of Elyra's neck disappeared beneath the collar of her dress. One of her hands began to rise almost unconsciously.
"What happens if part of it cracks? Does it heal naturally, or does someone have to repair it? And can you feel things through the sections around your Core differently than the rest of your body?"
"Lady Serenya," Mira interrupted gently.
Serenya froze with her hand halfway between them.
Mira gave her a small smile.
"Perhaps Lady Elyra would prefer to finish introducing herself before being examined."
Serenya looked down at her own raised hand before quickly lowering it.
"Oh."
She looked toward Elyra.
"I'm sorry."
"I don't mind."
"Can I ask later?"
"Yes."
Serenya smiled and returned to her place, though her eyes lingered on Elyra's arm for another few seconds.
Mira looked toward Rokhan.
The Orc immediately seemed to realize what was happening.
"Rokhan Graal. Sixteen. Gravann."
He stopped.
Kaelric lifted his head slightly.
"That's it?"
Rokhan looked at him.
"Yes."
Kaelric nodded.
"I respect it."
Mira smiled politely.
"And what did you do before the Descent, Lord Rokhan?"
Rokhan's eyes moved toward her, and for a moment Mira thought he might refuse to answer.
"Worked."
"What kind of work?"
"Whatever I could find."
He shifted his weight slightly, one thumb hooking beneath the edge of his leather jacket as the attention of the entire room settled on him.
"Loading. Carrying. Cleaning. Sometimes helping merchants. Whatever paid."
There was no embarrassment in the answer, but there was no pride either. He said it simply, as though work had never been something he had the luxury of choosing.
Mira nodded.
"I see."
Rokhan gave a small nod in return before crossing his arms again, physically closing himself off from any further questions.
Tova didn't wait to be called.
"Tova Brimestone. Sixteen. Atherion. Inventor."
Mira waited.
Tova stared back while turning a tiny metal piece between her fingers that Mira was almost certain hadn't been there a moment ago.
"And the Emberforged," Mira added.
Tova's expression soured.
"Unfortunately."
For a moment, Mira genuinely wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
"I'm sorry, Lady Tova?"
"I said unfortunately."
"You are referring to being chosen by Thalenor?"
"Yeah."
Mira stared at her.
"The God of Chaos and Change chose you personally."
"I noticed."
"And you consider that unfortunate?"
"He stole my invention."
Mira's confusion deepened.
"Thalenor stole your invention?"
"Finished it."
Mira paused.
"That seems different."
"It is different. It's worse."
Tova's fingers stopped turning the little piece of metal as she crossed her arms.
"I spent two years working on that thing, and right when I was finally getting somewhere, that flaming bastard came down and finished it for me."
Mira's eyes widened slightly.
She knew fourteen traditional titles used when addressing Thalenor during formal Concord ceremonies.
Flaming bastard was not among them.
"And you were already an inventor before the Descent?"
Tova looked offended.
"Obviously."
"I only meant to ask what kind of work you did."
"I built things. Fixed things. Broke things when the first two didn't work. Mostly machinery."
Her eyes drifted toward the defensive array again.
Mira stepped between them without a word.
Tova looked up at her.
"Seriously?"
Mira smiled pleasantly.
"Yes."
Tova stared at her for another moment before shoving the little piece of metal back into one of her pockets.
Mira decided not to ask what it was.
Elyra stepped forward next, the silver lining of her dark blue dress shifting softly against her metallic body. Her movements were smooth and deliberate, and her liquid metal hair slipped across one shoulder before settling behind her again.
"I am Elyra Vosin, recorder of the Luminar Spire, citizen of the Continuum, and Blessed of Vaerith. Before the Descent, most of my work concerned the preservation of testimonies, memories, and historical accounts."
Mira bowed her head slightly.
"It is an honor, Lady Elyra."
Elyra returned the gesture with almost perfect precision.
Kaelric looked interested.
"You record memories?"
"When appropriate."
"Other people's memories?"
"Yes."
His mask hid his expression completely, but his tail stopped moving.
"Without asking?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Kaelric watched her for another second.
"Good."
Elyra seemed ready to ask why that mattered, but Mira spoke first.
"And what do you enjoy doing outside your work, Lady Elyra?"
Elyra thought about the question.
"Listening to people."
Tova frowned slightly.
"Voluntarily?"
"Yes."
"Strange hobby."
Elyra looked toward her.
"You build machines for fun."
Tova paused.
"Fair."
Elyra's attention shifted back toward Cael.
Something from his introduction appeared to have stayed with her.
"Lord Cael, may I ask you something?"
Cael turned toward her.
"Of course."
"You said your selection was unexpected, but you also spoke about representing Valmyr as though you had been preparing for the responsibility."
Cael's pleasant expression remained unchanged.
"I've had time to learn what is expected of me since the Descent."
Elyra tilted her head slightly, causing the light from the windows to travel through her metallic hair in a thin silver wave.
"So you didn't receive formal religious education before Elyndra selected you?"
"My education was ordinary."
"Were you already familiar with Elyndran law?"
"To the extent expected of someone raised within Valmyr."
Elyra took one measured step closer.
"Did you expect to be considered during the Descent?"
"No."
"Then how did you react when Elyndra chose you?"
Cael paused.
"Lady Elyra," Mira interrupted.
Elyra stopped immediately and turned toward her.
"Yes?"
"This was meant to be an introduction."
"I am getting to know him."
"You've asked Lord Cael four questions."
Elyra glanced back toward Cael.
"I have more."
Cael gave a polite laugh.
"I don't mind."
Kaelric stared at him through the two faced mask.
Cael noticed.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"You can't see how I'm looking at you."
Cael paused.
Kaelric tapped his mask.
"That is sort of the point."
Tova laughed.
Mira quickly turned toward Kaelric before Cael could answer.
"I believe that leaves you, Lord Kaelric."
Kaelric groaned and allowed his head to fall backward against the bench.
"Please don't call me that."
Mira blinked.
"Lord Kaelric?"
"Yes."
"You are Blessed of Narethos."
"I've been informed."
"It is a proper form of respect."
"It makes me sound like I own land."
Mira frowned.
"Then how would you prefer I address you?"
"Kaelric."
"Simply Kaelric?"
"That's generally why people have names."
Mira hesitated.
"Very well... Kaelric."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"Beautiful."
Mira rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.
His masked face immediately turned toward her.
Mira realized what she had done and straightened.
"I apologize."
"For what?"
"That was inappropriate."
"No, do it again."
"I will not."
"We're making progress."
Cael cleared his throat.
"I don't particularly see anything wrong with maintaining a reasonable degree of decorum."
Kaelric turned toward him.
"Of course you don't."
Cael's smile remained.
Mira had to look away to hide her own.
Kaelric finally pushed himself off the bench and adjusted the black uniform hanging around his body.
"I suppose it's my turn. Kaelric Varr. Sixteen years old, devastatingly handsome, exceptionally humble, beloved of Narethos, and apparently condemned to spend the foreseeable future with all of you."
Cael frowned.
"Exceptionally humble?"
"My greatest quality."
"You just spent several minutes explaining how your face could collapse kingdoms."
Kaelric opened his arms slightly as though the answer should have been obvious.
"And yet I remain grounded."
"You're impossible."
"Thank you."
Mira shook her head.
"And what did you do before the Descent, Kaelric?"
For the first time since the conversation began, he didn't immediately have an answer.
His arms slowly fell back to his sides.
His tail stopped moving.
Even with the mask hiding his expression, Mira noticed the change. The careless posture remained, but something underneath it seemed to become strangely still.
"What did I do?"
"Yes."
Kaelric leaned his head slightly to one side.
Then he shrugged, and the moment vanished.
"Mostly avoided responsibility."
Tova snorted.
"Finally, someone respectable."
Mira watched him return to the bench, but the hesitation remained in her thoughts longer than it seemed to remain in his.
Only one Blessed remained.
Silas had spent most of the conversation quietly watching the others, neither uncomfortable nor particularly eager to participate. When everyone finally turned toward him, he straightened slightly, silver scales catching the light against the black and dark purple fabric covering his body.
"Silas Drevin. Sixteen. Eldranveil."
He stopped.
Kaelric waited.
Silas said nothing else.
Kaelric slowly looked toward Rokhan.
"You two are going to get along wonderfully."
Rokhan looked at Silas.
Silas looked back.
"Probably."
Rokhan gave a small shrug.
Mira couldn't stop the smile this time.
"And what did you do before the Descent, Lord Silas?"
Silas didn't correct the title.
"Combat training, mostly."
That, at least, sounded much closer to what Mira had expected from a Blessed.
"What kind?"
"Whatever I was given."
There was something in the answer that made Mira suspect the list would be considerably longer than he wanted to explain.
"And outside your training?"
"Painting."
Mira paused.
Serenya turned toward him so quickly that her shawl shifted across one shoulder.
"You paint?"
Silas nodded.
"What do you paint?"
For the first time, he looked away from the group. His gaze settled briefly on the light coming through one of the tall windows, while his thumb brushed absently along the edge of one silver scaled finger.
"Whatever I want to remember."
Elyra's attention immediately sharpened.
"You use paintings to preserve memories?"
Silas looked toward her.
"Yes."
"Even though the painting only preserves what you saw rather than the memory itself?"
Silas considered that.
"It preserves what I thought was worth remembering."
Elyra went quiet.
That answer seemed to interest her even more.
"What determines whether something is worth remembering?"
Silas stared at her for a moment.
Then he looked toward Mira.
"Does this count as another introduction?"
Mira tried not to smile.
"No."
"I thought so."
Elyra looked between them.
"I only asked two questions."
"Lady Elyra."
"I'll ask later."
That earned a small laugh from Serenya.
With the introductions finished, Mira allowed herself to look over them again, except now the titles she had memorized her entire life felt slightly different.
These were the Seven Blessed.
She had imagined meeting them more times than she could remember. She had imagined great warriors, prophets, scholars, saints, and people whose very presence would make everyone around them understand why the gods had chosen them.
Instead, Elyndra's Arbiter seemed determined to behave exactly how a Blessed should behave, every movement and word chosen with almost perfect care.
Aenvara's Verdant Heart could barely contain her curiosity.
Draveth's Crimson Fang had spent his life taking whatever work he could find and seemed happier saying as little as possible.
Thalenor's Emberforged had insulted her own god several times within the span of a few minutes.
Vaerith's Chronicle couldn't stop asking questions.
Narethos's Whispered Smile was lying across furniture in formal clothes while claiming his face was too beautiful for mortal civilization to survive.
And Kharoth's Pale Requiem, a Dragonkin trained most of his life to fight, liked to paint things he wanted to remember.
For one brief moment, a thought slipped into Mira's mind before she could stop it.
'These are really them?'
Guilt immediately followed.
Of course they were.
The Seven themselves had chosen them. No mortal hand could make that decision, and Mira had been taught from childhood that questioning the Descent was little different from questioning the judgment of the gods themselves. She had never found much reason to challenge that lesson.
Still, they weren't anything like she had imagined.
For a short while, nobody spoke.
Cael seemed to be thinking over everything they had just said. His pale golden eyes moved slowly around the group, lingering briefly on each of them in turn.
Mira wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Eventually, he spoke.
"Can I ask all of you something?"
Serenya looked toward him, while Kaelric lifted his head slightly from the bench.
Cael hesitated.
"Before the Descent, did any of you think you might actually be chosen?"
That question changed the room.
Tova answered first.
"Fuck no."
Mira flinched slightly.
Cael blinked, apparently not expecting the answer to come quite that quickly.
"I certainly didn't either."
Kaelric raised his masked face toward him.
"Really?"
"No."
"You seem very comfortable with it."
"I have had time to adjust."
"How long?"
Cael looked at him.
"That isn't relevant."
"Long enough to practice the smile?"
Mira looked between them.
For the first time, Cael's jaw tightened enough for her to notice. It lasted no more than a second before the tension disappeared and the pleasant expression returned.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Kaelric's tail flicked once.
"Of course."
Serenya interrupted before he could continue.
"I didn't expect it either."
She looked down toward her hand where Aenvara's mark rested.
"I don't think anyone around me did."
Rokhan shook his head once when Mira looked toward him.
"No."
Elyra's answer took longer.
"I had studied previous Descent records and wondered what experiencing divine selection would feel like, but I never seriously believed Vaerith would select me."
"And now?" Serenya asked.
Elyra looked down at the light glowing beneath her shell.
"Now I have considerably more questions than I did before."
Kaelric laughed.
"Sounds disappointing."
"I find it exciting."
"That sounds exhausting."
Silas gave the same answer as Rokhan.
"No."
Mira listened quietly.
She had never seriously considered the question herself.
Across the world, people had celebrated when the Seven rays descended. Bells rang, temples filled, banners rose, and millions celebrated the arrival of the new Blessed. Mira herself had barely slept afterward because she had been too excited.
She had never stopped to wonder whether the seven people underneath those rays had been excited too.
Kaelric looked around the room.
"So none of us expected it."
Nobody disagreed.
His tail shifted slowly behind him.
"That's comforting."
Cael frowned.
"How?"
Kaelric's shoulders rose in a small shrug, but unlike most of his gestures, there was nothing theatrical about it.
"It means I'm not the only one who has no idea what I'm doing."
For once, there was no obvious joke hiding underneath the words.
The room became quiet again.
Mira looked at the seven of them, and for the first time since the doors had closed, the titles surrounding them seemed to fade just a little.
Not completely.
She couldn't look at Cael without remembering that Elyndra herself had reached down from the heavens and chosen him. She couldn't look at Serenya without thinking of Aenvara, or Silas without remembering whose mark he carried. Everything Mira had been taught told her these seven were sacred, people who deserved reverence and protection beyond almost anyone else alive.
But beneath all of that, Kaelric had just admitted something remarkably simple.
None of them knew what they were doing.
Mira slowly stepped closer.
"You don't need to know yet."
Kaelric looked toward her.
Mira continued, choosing her words carefully.
"You were chosen only recently. Whatever the Seven expect from you, I doubt they expect you to understand everything immediately."
Tova gave her a doubtful look.
"You sure about that?"
Mira opened her mouth to answer.
The certainty came naturally. It always had. She had spent her entire life studying the Seven, learning their teachings, their histories, their traditions, and the countless ways people had interpreted their will.
But none of that told her what they wanted now.
Her mouth closed again.
"No."
Kaelric's mask tilted toward her.
"So even you don't know what they're doing."
Mira frowned slightly.
"I never claimed to know everything the Seven intend."
"No, but you probably know more about them than any of us."
Mira couldn't argue with that.
Kaelric looked around at the others before settling back on her.
"And you're still guessing."
Mira hesitated.
"Yes."
For once, Kaelric didn't turn the answer into a joke.
"Huh."
Serenya looked down at the mark on her hand.
Strangely, Mira thought the admission might have comforted them more than another confident answer would have.
Cael said nothing, but Mira noticed some of the stiffness leave his shoulders. It wasn't much, and she wasn't sure what exactly had caused it.
After a moment, Kaelric looked back toward her.
"Actually, that brings me back to something."
Mira immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
"The titles."
Mira sighed.
"What about them?"
Kaelric pushed himself upright.
"No Lords, no Ladies, no Blessed this or Chosen that while it's just us."
Mira frowned.
"They are proper forms of address."
"We're all sixteen."
"That does not change who you are."
"No, but it does make it strange when another sixteen year old talks to us like we're visiting royalty."
Mira looked around the room.
Serenya gave her a small, apologetic smile.
"I wouldn't mind."
Tova immediately raised her hand.
"Neither would I."
Rokhan shrugged.
Elyra considered the question.
"I have no preference."
Silas gave another small shrug.
Mira looked toward Cael.
He seemed to realize everyone was waiting for him.
"I don't particularly see anything wrong with maintaining a reasonable degree of decorum."
Kaelric pointed toward him.
"Of course you don't."
Cael ignored him.
"However, considering we will apparently be spending a considerable amount of time together, using our names seems reasonable."
Kaelric spread both arms toward Mira.
"There. Even him."
Cael's smile tightened slightly.
Mira sighed.
"Very well. I will try."
"Try now."
Mira looked around the room.
Seven Blessed stared back at her.
"Cael."
Cael gave her the same flawless smile.
"Mira."
"Serenya."
Serenya smiled.
"Rokhan."
He nodded.
"Tova."
"Finally."
"Elyra."
Elyra bowed her head slightly.
"Silas."
He gave a small nod.
Then Mira reached the last one.
She stared at the half smiling, half weeping mask.
"Lord Kaelric."
Kaelric threw his head back and spread his arms toward the ceiling as though appealing to Narethos for strength.
"Oh, come on."
Mira laughed before she could stop herself.
It was only a small laugh, but it escaped quickly enough that she couldn't hide it afterward.
Kaelric slowly lowered his arms and looked at her.
"You did that on purpose."
Mira regained her composure, although the smile remained.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
For the first time, Kaelric was silent.
Cael looked toward her with what might have been approval.
Tova laughed.
Serenya joined her.
Even Rokhan lowered his head with the faintest smile.
The Seven Blessed were nothing like Mira had imagined.
They were louder, stranger, less certain, and considerably less dignified than every story had led her to expect. She still felt the same reverence when she looked at the marks they carried, and some part of her still wanted to straighten her robes whenever one of them addressed her.
Yet as their voices began filling the enormous hall, Mira realized that her hands were no longer folded perfectly in front of her.
She hadn't even noticed when she'd stopped.
For sixteen years, Mira Vale had dreamed of meeting the Seven Blessed.
She had expected to stand before seven miracles.
She hadn't expected the miracles to feel so much like people.