Vaeron’s jaw ticked once before speaking. "The gods can’t be fooled. Might I remind you what happens when Downwolders crosses the threshold of Blackvale?" he paused a second before adding. "Or has the hold lost its purpose,"
Downworlders? Lucrezia thought. Could that be the reason he teleported them here? Because there was so magic against kinds below them?
"Rest assured, Vaeron. Your absence doesn’t change a thing in their making," It was Vaeloria who spoke at the other end of the table. "It is you whom we should be concerned about. It’s no tale how seasons change them to be worse or less than before. Ti does temper what was never ant to bend,"
A low murmur rippled around the table. Lucrezia stayed silent, though her pulse had begun to drum in her ears.
Downworlders. The word carried weight here, sharpened by old fear and older laws that made her question.
Vaeron’s gaze cut to Vaeloria, sharp as flint. "Your concern is misplaced. You speak as if I’ve grown careless,"
"I speak as if you’ve grown close," Vaeloria emphasised calmly. "Closeness clouds judgnt. Blackvale was raised for a reason, and thresholds exist to remind us of our place above them."
Lucrezia stiffened when she concluded. So it was true that so binding, or so ward were woven into the land itself, not as a prison, but a filter.
No wonder folks hardly talk about them. Because those who wander beyond never survive to return with news. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Vaeron steepled his fingers and leaned back. "And yet the gods themselves cross realms when it suits them,"
"Because they can afford the consequences," Vaeloria said. "Can you?"
Thick silence fell in the room. Lucrezia had believed the woman nad Vaeloria to be the most amiable among them, all warm eyes and cordial grace—but it was she, she noticed, who held the sharpest blade.
Vaeloria’s gaze never left Vaeron. Those eyes were patient and unyielding, as if ti itself answered to her and he t it without flinching.
"If closeness were corruption, then this council would have rotted centuries ago."
A few heads turned and the murmurs that died earlier seed to thicken with a sudden stillness in the air.
Lucrezia tried so hard to remain stoic as the faces seated among the tables but she could barely keep up. So many tis her eyes widened slightly or she inhaled softly it drew eyes to her direction.
Finally, "The threshold stands for a reason," Vaeloria countered. "To keep out what festers beyond our order, and to restrain those whose natures are too malleable to withstand corruption,"
Her words settled like frost and Lucrezia’s throat tightened. She kept her gaze fixed on the table’s dark surface, but the implication rang louder than any accusation spoken aloud.
It wasn’t rely about borders or realms but about worth. About who was deed capable of restraint, and who was not.
Vaeron’s expression did not change. "You speak of thresholds as if they are divine commandnts rather than constructs of fear," he said. It was his own turn to grab the goblet before him. Guarding it to his lips, "Pray tell , Blackvale was raised to guard balance, not to enshrine stagnation, isn’t it?"
Vaeloria’s lips curved the bite faintly in his words. It wasn’t sothing considered a smile but an acknowledgnt. "Balance requires separation,"
"Mm," he murmured after a asured sip, setting the goblet back upon the table. "It requires understanding," Vaeron said with a tone calm and unaltered, yet it cut through the chamber with lethal precision.
A low chuckle broke the tension, followed by the soft scrape of a goblet against stone. "And yet," drawled the Sin with amber eyes glinting with idle curiosity as he reclined back in his throne. "It took centuries of summons to finally draw you back to us. Strange timing for a patron of understanding,"
"Centuries pass more quickly when one is listening instead of ruling," Lord Vaeron countered evenly without sharing looks.
"Or perhaps absence has softened or altered you. Mortality leaves stains that do not wash clean."
Lucrezia felt their words circle like carrion birds. Her breath felt too loud in her chest as she pressed her palms against her knees, steadying herself, more than aware that at this point, she was no longer present.
"Your conclusions were decided long before I entered this hall,"
"That does not answer the question," Vaeloria said. Her eyes were fierce when she gazed towards him. "Why now?"
Lord Vaeron’s eyes lifted to her. It was the calm lethal kind one could not catch a glimpse of emotions in them. "Because the summons finally has a better aning," Those words dropped like icicles and no one rushed to dull them.
Lucrezia tensed, breathing shallowly. The tension in the room was enough to cut her in half. A silence thick enough that she could hear the faint crackle of candle wicks and the slow, steady rhythm of her own pulse. She beca acutely aware of every swallow, every breath, every shift of her shoulders.
Lucrezia couldn’t wait for the banquet to end so she could bury herself in the midst of silence in her chamber. She needed to gather her thoughts, her mind, and her ability to stay neutral in situations like this. The facade she built after crossing the threshold was crumbling sooner than she’d expected.
And Gods... she felt the wave of sickness crush her bones.
"There is a way to determine whether ti among the fragile has bled into your essence," For the first ti, the one with red hair spoke, and Lucrezia found herself drawn to his presence once again.
As expected, his voice was deep and monotone like the others, carrying the weight of indifference as those eyes passed around the table when several heads turned.
"Mortality reshapes," he continued. "It dulls what should not dull. It teaches all things that reveal themselves under strain. Hesitation, rcy," he listed. "We’ve existed long enough to understand the rules. If doubt exists, it will be resolved as it always has,"
That seed to have added to the tension when she felt the air thicken around her. Resolved in what way? She thought.
The red-haired turned his gaze to Vaeron, appearing fathomless as ever. "By trial."
There was a slow deliberate pause that followed after he declared and Lucrezia froze, shooting concern across to the table towards Lord Vaeron.
It couldn’t be...
"Let him stand in the Trial of Severance where will is stripped from pretense, and essence answers truth," he continued. "That way, uncertain observations would beco fact instead of rumours."
For unknown reasons, Lucrezia’s heart raced as the room awaited his response. The word was a death knell that echoed through her again and again and again, so heavy with old mory and domination.
She held her breath when he inclined his head in acceptance, and her blood ran cold.
He didn’t cast a glance her way and returned his gaze to the table. That action seed to hurt her more than it should have as she watched him reach for his goblet.
"Trial it is!" The voice of the Naless King echoed in the chamber, causing her breath to stutter as she looked away. "Now, now, what a wonderful reunion it is, isn’t it?" The Naless King called with a sly smile on his face.
Lucrezia knew without a doubt that he was enjoying this more than anyone else at this table, and that alone made her feel sick.
"You have answered why you returned. Whether the answer satisfies us is not a matter to be decided tonight," he said to Lord Vaeron before his gaze fell on the table. "As of now, let’s enjoy the banquet before it gets cold,"
His interruption was an unspoken acknowledgnt that the stalemate had been set aside, not resolved as no words followed. No blessing was spoken nor a toast was raised when they simply began.
They all ate with a kind of deliberate restraint that felt more unsettling than indulgence with movents precise, and economical.
Knives slid through flesh and root without haste. It was a al observed as much as consud with every gesture carrying the faint weight of ritual. Enough food she recognized were lined on the table, the array of spices lingering in the air, beckoning.
Silence reigned in a curated manner this ti, thick enough that Lucrezia could hear the faint crackle of the hearth, the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat, and the soft rumble of her stomach. She was starving.
"The food is safe for you to eat," Lucrezia heard soone speak, and her eyes t those amber ones. "We’re not going to bite,"
His white teeth glead in a way that suggested otherwise. Lucrezia avoided his gaze, avoided that strange, animated tal eye that focused on her like a predator blooded with power.
It seed they all sensed her restraint, as their gazes settled on her in a way that almost made her cower.
She recalled those familiar words when she sat with her husband for breakfast for the first ti. Realizing it was identical to his words sent a chill scurrying down her spine. It made her wonder if it was just a statent to her or perhaps other Punishnts... just like her.
For the second ti since her presence was known here, those hazel eyes found hers too, staring at her among the others.
She tensed subtly. Lucrezia cleared her throat softly, tearing her gaze away. "Y-yes," she muttered, thankful her voice didn’t sound as sour as she had recited several tis in her head in semblance to her sister’s tone.
When at last she moved, it felt like stepping onto thin ice as she reached first for the bread nearest her.
It was dense beneath her fingers, warm despite the cool stone table with its crust dusted lightly with sothing aromatic like salt, perhaps, or ground spice.
They still watched her—watched her every move, the flare of her nostrils as she sniffed the food on her plate. Again, no tallic stench of magic. She broke off a small piece, careful not to draw attention, and brought it to her lips.
The taste surprised her.
It was earthy and faintly sweet, richer than any bread she had known, with a depth that lingered on her tongue. It grounded her, just a little, enough that the knot in her chest loosened by a fraction.
Lucrezia followed it with a bite of roasted root, a deep violet flesh glazed with honey, and sothing sharp that made her eyes sting faintly. The flavor blood slowly, warmth spreading through her mouth and down her throat, anchoring her in the present.
It was an effort to keep her eyes from closing. Gods, it tasted... divine.
Across the table, no one watched her openly, but Lucrezia felt the awareness all the sa. It was a peripheral pressure she could not escape, too aware of them observing her.
She kept her gaze lowered, her movents asured, mimicking the restraint she saw around her. A sip of wine followed. It was clear as crystal, cool and almost weightless that tasted of fruit.
It did not burn nor soothe but simply existed, and she forced herself to refrain from drinking too much.
Conversation did not resu so much as seep back into the hall like a low, asured exchange between them. Words passed like distant thunder, never quite close enough for her to grasp their aning, yet heavy all the sa.
Just when she thought her presence to be invisible in their eyes, "Lady Anastasia," Vaeloria called, and she felt her back stiffen.
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