Vivian.
The storm did not break all at once.
It gathered first.
Wind moved around the Northern Estate like a warning that refused to be ignored. Curtains snapped sharply against the tall stone windows. Torches along the corridor bent low, their flames struggling to survive. Even the air felt different — thick, charged, waiting.
Waiting for something to begin.
We did not return to my chamber immediately after leaving the council hall.
Sebastian walked beside me in silence. My mother walked on my other side. Our footsteps echoed through the long corridor, steady but slow, as if each step carried more meaning than movement alone.
No one spoke.
Words felt too small for what had just been set in motion.
The Trial of Convergence.
Tradition's answer to uncertainty.
Love placed beside destiny — not as enemies, but as truths that must endure examination.
When we reached the inner corridor, my mother stopped walking.
"Vivian," she said softly.
I turned toward her.
