35. Riven
RIVEN
The chamber smells of blood and glass.
Not the red kind, but silver. Liquid light seeps between the cracks of the marble, cooling into dull mercury veins. The air still hums with the residue of divinity—a fever that won’t break. It should have terrified me. Instead, it sharpened my focus.
I kneel beside Solmir’s body. His mask lies in shards near the dais, his face turned toward the heavens he served. There is nothing holy left in him now—just the hollow gaze of a man who believed the light could be caged.
Calis stands motionless a few paces away, her robes ghosted in dust, her mask removed. Her hands tremble even as she offers the rites of release, but the words sound wrong—thin and desperate.
“Enough.” I say, my voice echoing off the fractured pillars. “He is gone. Your prayers won’t change that.”
She looks at me, her eyes like molten glass. “Watch your tongue, Commander. The Light always demands a body. This was his turn, but yours won’t be far away if you forget your place.”
She turns away before I can respond, sharing a silent word with Uri before retreating. Her glow fades as she goes, a dying ember in the dark. I walk out of the hall and wait in the corridor for Uri to depart, but a guard rushes out first.
Glass crunches underfoot as Uri follows, instructing the guards to scrub the mess and bury the truth of the day. We walk side by side into the gilded halls.
“Tragic,” Uri says softly. “Darkness doused the sun’s flame. Who would have thought it was possible?”
“You called her a child of rot once,” I remind him.
He chuckles, staring at the silver blood coating his finger. “Perspective, my dear Commander. Even rot feeds the soil from which new things grow.”
“Spare me your sermons.” I brush the dust from my uniform, knowing I am teetering on the edge of caution.
“We both know you have a fascination with the girl—one I am happy to assist you in achieving. But first—” I intertwine my hands behind my back.
“—we must consider the people. They will need reassurance that the Light prevails and that the Triarch remains strong, even through the break. Power leaks through the cracks like mercury, Uri. I intend to be the one who catches it.”
“Of course,” he glides closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial low. “Delegate the optics to whomever you choose. Your job is to find her. Not for caging. Not for execution. You bring her to me before anyone else. Do I make myself clear?”
“The Council will want her trial. Calis will demand a public execution.”
“Leave Calis to me. Her demands will be met…after mine.”
“And what will I receive for delivering her to you?” He knows what I hunger for—a throne carved from light. I need it. I deserve it. I have served longer and sacrificed more than anyone. Solmir’s throne is mine; I can already feel its weight settling into my bones.
“The Light will remember you as the man who delivered salvation,” Uri says, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes carved into his face. “You will receive what your heart desires.”
He offers salvation as though he does not choke on the taste of it.
My eyebrow raises. “And Calis?”
“Faith is a game, Commander. Some of us simply know how to navigate the rules better than others.”
I bow—lower than I intended. And the light above us flickers as if the city itself is mocking me.