The chapel was filled with smoke when they brought me in.
Not from incense this time, but from the city itself—ash clinging to the folds of my gown, streaking the stone floor. The nobles had gathered, their jeweled masks gleaming in the firelight. The priests stood in their iron veils, voices rising in endless chant.
The High Priest lifted his hand.
"You will speak, Daughter of Veylen. You will condemn what burns in the streets. Swear before the Veil that you are not their fire."
The eyes of the court fixed on me. Some glimmered with hunger for my submission. Others with dread. All waited for me to kneel.
But I did not bow.
I touched the crown of thorns, still pressed to my brow, its edges biting faintly into skin. The weight should have been crushing, but it steadied me.
When I opened my mouth, I let the silence fall.
No words.
Only silence, stretched long, cold, unbreakable. A silence so sharp it cut through chant and whisper alike.
They demanded an oath of loyalty. Instead, I gave them an oath of defiance. Silent. Absolute.
The Brides shifted in their pews, their pale faces flickering with something new—something dangerous. Servants in the shadows lowered their heads, hiding the sparks in their eyes. Even among the nobles, unease moved like a shiver through silk.
The High Priest's voice cracked with fury:
"You dare deny the Veil?"
I met his gaze through the slits of my mask.
I dared.
And the silence thundered louder than any word I could have spoken.