The next sound rose in Sable's mouth like a cough she could not swallow.
Her tongue pressed against her teeth. Her throat tightened. Her lungs drew in air as if her body had decided for her.
Maera's hand clamped on Sable's shoulder.
"Sable," Maera said, low and urgent. "Do not."
Vessa moved to Sable's other side, eyes wide, jaw set. "Bite down. Hard."
Sable did bite down. Pain shot through her jaw. The sound still pushed up, insisting, stubborn and ancient.
The duplicate watched Sable's mouth with a hunger that felt like fear wearing a smile.
"Say it," the duplicate whispered. "Let the court settle. Let the bells stop."
The voice that filled the hall spoke again, calm and merciless.
"Name the signer."
Sable forced her lips closed. The sound pressed behind them anyway, turning her mouth into a sealed gate.
The masked figure lifted its stylus.
Sable saw the tablet in its hand more clearly now. The surface was not metal the way Registry tablets were metal. It looked like dark stone polished to mirror sheen. Lines moved on it like ink that had never dried.
The masked figure wrote:
THE COURT ACCEPTS SPOKEN, WRITTEN, OR BOUND PROOF.
Maera's eyes snapped to the words. "Written."
Vessa's head turned fast toward Sable. "Do you understand what that means."
Sable swallowed with effort, keeping the sound trapped. The act hurt. "It means I do not have to say it."
The duplicate's smile tightened. "You will still have to provide it."
Sable stared at the empty bowl on the dais. The light above it shifted, impatient.
"Written," Sable repeated, more to herself than anyone else.
The masked figure wrote again, quicker this time.
WRITTEN PROOF MUST BE TRUE AND COMPLETE.
Sable's palm burned where the name mark lived. She held it up and looked at it like it was a wound and a key at the same time.
The mark was not letters she knew, but she could feel the shape of the name in her muscles. She could trace it without understanding it.
Maera leaned close. "Write it. Here. On the floor. Give the court what it wants without giving her your mouth."
Vessa frowned. "If she writes it, the duplicate can see it."
The duplicate's gaze flicked confirmingly to Sable's palm. "Exactly."
Sable's stomach tightened. The court wanted a true name, but giving it publicly could become another chain. She could feel that danger in her bones.
The voice above them spoke again, colder now.
"Proceed."
The grooves in the platform lit brighter, tracing a wider circle around Sable, Maera, Vessa, and the duplicate. The circle did not trap them in place. It trapped their options.
Sable forced herself to think like a warlock.
Words are tools. Records are weapons. A court is a machine. Machines have rules.
She looked at the four carved seats on the bench. The symbols remained clear. Witch. Shifter. Registry. Flame.
The flame seat glowed faintly near Vessa.
The Registry seat glowed faintly near the duplicate.
The others did not.
Sable said, carefully, "Where is the shifter witness."
The voice answered, instant and flat.
"Incomplete panel."
The masked figure wrote:
A FULL PANEL STABILIZES TRUTH. AN INCOMPLETE PANEL INCREASES FRACTURE.
Vessa's face hardened. "So this court is missing a piece."
The duplicate's eyes narrowed. "Convenient."
Maera said, "Do not act like you are not part of the fracture."
The duplicate did not look at Maera. "I am the remedy."
Sable felt the trapped sound in her throat shift, trying again to climb out. She needed to act before her body betrayed her.
She turned toward the dais and stepped forward.
The circle allowed it.
Maera moved with her. Vessa followed. The duplicate stayed where she was, as if confident Sable could not escape her anyway.
Sable reached the dais and looked at the black glass bowl.
The light above it turned toward her, the way a face turns.
Sable forced herself to speak, slow, precise. "If I write my name, will you accept it without sound."
The voice replied, "Yes."
Sable's pulse thudded. "If I write it, will you keep it from being used by another."
The hall went silent for a breath.
Then the voice answered, "No."
Vessa let out a harsh sound. "Of course."
Maera's jaw tightened. "Then we need a different kind of proof."
Sable stared at the bowl, thinking. A court accepts written or bound proof. Bound proof implied oathwork. Oathwork could be structured so the court receives the truth while witnesses receive only the result.
Sable turned toward the masked figure. "What is bound proof."
The masked figure wrote:
A NAME SEALED TO THE SEED BY WILL. A SIGNATURE WITHOUT DISPLAY.
The duplicate took a step forward. "There. Do that. Seal it. Finish it."
Sable's eyes narrowed. "You want it sealed because you believe you can control the seal."
The duplicate's expression stayed smooth. "I want stability."
Vessa snapped, "You want custody."
The duplicate ignored her and looked at Sable. "The court requires a true name. If you refuse, it will forfeit you."
Maera's hand flexed. "Forfeit to who."
The voice answered for her.
"Forfeit to the most coherent record."
Sable's blood ran cold. "And the most coherent record is the one shaped to obey."
The duplicate smiled. "You understand."
Sable looked at her palm again.
The name burned there, whole but not spoken.
Sable had one advantage the duplicate did not want her to use. Sable could choose how to bind. The duplicate wanted a public name. Sable needed a private binding.
Sable lifted her hand over the bowl.
The light above it pulsed, waiting.
Sable whispered to Maera and Vessa without turning her head. "If I seal it, I must do it with intention. If I hesitate, the court chooses her."
Maera's voice was steady. "Then do not hesitate."
Vessa's voice was lower, almost gentle. "And do not do it alone."
Sable blinked. "What do you mean."
Vessa lifted her own hand. On her palm was no thorn crown, no carved mark. But Sable saw faint scars there, as if the skin had once been branded and then healed.
"Cinderbreaths used to anchor each other," Vessa said. "Fire to fire. It is why they hunted us. We could share heat without sharing names."
The duplicate's eyes sharpened. "Do not."
Vessa stepped closer to Sable and held her palm near Sable's palm, not touching. Heat moved between them, controlled and deliberate.
Sable felt her throat loosen slightly, as if the pressure of her true name paused to listen to something else.
Maera stepped in on Sable's other side and placed two fingers lightly on Sable's wrist.
"I do not have magic," Maera said. "But I have witness. I can hold you to the choice you make."
Sable's breath caught.
The masked figure wrote, almost immediately:
TRIAD BINDING ACCEPTABLE. WITNESS STRENGTH INCREASED.
The duplicate surged forward, sudden anger breaking her calm. "No. That is not permitted."
The voice corrected her without emotion.
"It is permitted."
The duplicate stopped, eyes tight. She looked smaller for half a heartbeat, like a plan had cracked.
Sable realized something with a jolt.
The court was not on anyone's side.
But it had rules the duplicate did not fully control.
That meant Sable could still win.
Sable held her palm over the bowl. Vessa's heat hovered close, steadying. Maera's fingers grounded Sable's wrist.
Sable spoke to the court, not giving the sound, only giving the promise behind it.
"I will seal the signer to the Seed," Sable said. "But I will not display the name."
"Proceed," the voice said.
The light rose from the bowl and curled around Sable's hand like a ribbon.
It did not burn.
It pressed.
Sable felt it reading her.
Her memories flickered. The cell. The hall of oaths. Oren's eyes. The duplicate's smile. The crack in the vault wall. The forbidden thorn crown mark.
The light pressed deeper.
Sable's throat clenched and the next sound slammed upward, stronger than before.
Sable's lips parted against her will.
Vessa's heat flared.
Not as flame.
As a steady pressure under Sable's chin, warm and firm, like a hand holding her mouth closed without touching it.
Sable's jaw locked.
The sound stopped at her teeth.
Pain spiked behind her eyes. Tears sprang up, unwanted.
Maera's fingers tightened on Sable's wrist. "Stay with us," Maera said. "Do not let it take you."
Sable forced her focus down into her palm, into the mark.
She imagined the name not as a word to speak, but as a line to draw.
She imagined the Seed as ink.
She imagined her will as the pen.
The light responded.
It flowed into the grooves of the mark on her skin, tracing it without revealing it, turning the name inward instead of outward.
The hall shuddered once.
The pillars rang like distant bells.
The voice spoke, louder now.
"Seal acknowledged."
The duplicate cried out, sharp and furious. "No."
She lunged.
Maera moved instantly and stepped into her path. No sword, no shield, only her body and her refusal. The duplicate's hand hit Maera's shoulder and Maera stumbled back, but she did not fall.
Vessa's mouth opened and a small flame flickered on her tongue.
The duplicate froze at the sight, eyes narrowing.
"You will burn me in court," she said, voice low. "How brave."
Vessa's flame went out. "Not brave. Necessary."
The black glass bowl on the dais filled with light until it overflowed.
The light poured across the floor toward the four seats on the bench.
The witch seat flared once.
The shifter seat flared once.
The Registry seat flared once.
The flame seat flared once.
Sable's heart leaped. "The shifter seat."
Maera breathed, "It recognized a shifter witness."
Vessa snapped her head around. "Jory is not here."
The light pulsed again and the air beside the platform rippled.
A black fox appeared, crouched low, eyes bright and wild.
Jory.
He looked around, then fixed on Sable.
He did not shift. He stayed fox.
The voice spoke.
"Panel complete."
The duplicate's face went pale.
Sable's throat loosened suddenly, as if a clamp had been removed. She gasped, gulping air.
The masked figure wrote:
WITH FULL PANEL, THE COURT MAY RENDER VERDICT.
The duplicate backed away one step, then another, as if distance could protect her from judgment.
Sable looked at her palm.
The mark was still there, but the new line beside it had changed.
It no longer looked like a partial signature.
It looked like a closed loop.
A seal.
The voice filled the hall, steady and absolute.
"Fracture identified. Remedy required."
Sable's stomach dropped. "Remedy."
The voice continued.
"One record must be made whole."
The duplicate's eyes locked on Sable with open threat. "It will choose me."
The voice corrected her.
"It will not choose. The signer will."
Sable's breath caught.
Maera's head turned sharply. "Sable, do you understand what it is asking."
Vessa's face tightened. "It is not asking you to pick a side. It is asking you to pick a self."
The fox paced a tight circle, tail twitching. Jory's eyes stayed fixed on Sable as if he already knew what the answer would cost.
Sable looked at the duplicate.
Two faces, one truth.
One realm, breaking.
The voice spoke one final line, and the words landed like a locked door.
"Combine or sever. Decide."
Sable opened her mouth to answer.
And felt the Seed's seal in her palm tighten, as if it would force the choice out of her whether she wanted it or not.