The council chamber was still.
Dust floated slowly through the air.
Broken pieces of stone lay across the floor.
The ceiling where the trial symbols once burned was now cracked and empty.
For the first time in centuries—
The chamber looked ordinary.
No glowing runes.
No ancient voice.
No power deciding who was worthy and who was not.
Just silence.
Vivian stood beside Sebastian.
Her fingers were still wrapped tightly around his hand.
Neither of them had let go.
Not since the trial ended.
Sebastian slowly looked around the chamber.
The elders looked shaken.
Some whispered to each other in low voices.
Others stared up at the broken ceiling as if they were watching their entire world collapse.
Because in truth—
They were.
Lord Cassian stood in the center of the chamber.
His posture was steady.
But the weight in his eyes was clear.
For generations the trial had ruled them.
It judged power.
It judged bloodlines.
It judged destiny.
