Chapter 24
The Hall of Houses is already crowded when we arrive.
Light filters down from the domed ceiling overhead, where the solar system moves in real time across panels of crystalline glass.
Planets cast coloured shadows across the marble floor below: Mars bleeding crimson, Venus glowing amber, Jupiter’s stormy pulse illuminating the crowd in shades of bronze and ochre.
The floor itself is cut with planetary sigils inlaid in precious metals, each one glowing faintly as delegates gather in their House sections.
Ren takes her place beside me, posture rigid and watchful, her hand resting near the blade at her hip. Zevran stands by the Mars banners, expressionless in his usual uniform. No one could guess what happened between us barely an hour ago.
Delegates murmur among themselves in tight clusters. Cardinal Benedict waits at the centre of the chamber, hands folded behind his back. He’s dressed in formal white Cardinal robes, with Cardinal Maria beside him.
“Thank you for assembling quickly,” Cardinal Benedict begins, his voice filling the hall with practiced authority. “There was an incident last night. A security breach inside Lady Cyra’s personal quarters.”
A ripple of voices moves through the room, some sharp with alarm, others edged with suspicion.
Cardinal Maria steps forward, her eyes unblinking as she surveys the crowd. “The intruder gained access using a security panel override device. The attacker has been removed from the premises, and Lady Cyra was unharmed.”
Removed, not captured. The distinction settles over the hall like frost.
Cardinal Benedict continues, his tone carefully neutral. “The override device was analyzed – it appears to be of Uranus origins.”
All eyes turn to Commander Kaelix.
They stand beneath Uranus’s banners, arms crossed, their electric blue eyes glowing brighter in the charged atmosphere.
Their expression doesn’t shift, but their posture sharpens.
“And you’re suggesting what, exactly?” Their voice carries an edge of contempt.
“That I authorized an assassination attempt?”
“We would never suggest such a thing. Nevertheless,” Cardinal Benedict says, his expression unchanging, “the technology matched Uranus specifications.”
The Commander’s nostrils flare. “If someone forged Uranus tech, they did so with access to experimental prototypes we don’t distribute. That’s an act of industrial espionage against my House.”
Before Cardinal Benedict can respond, Lord Castor steps forward from Jupiter’s section.
He’s dressed in battle-worn leather, hazel eyes tracking the room with predatory focus.
His voice booms across the hall. “It’s an act of aggression against us all.
If Uranus security can be compromised, none of our technology is safe. ”
“It wasn’t Uranus,” Commander Kaelix snaps, their voice slicing clean through the hall. “But I don’t expect someone whose idea of problem-solving is to hit whatever’s nearest to understand how complex this tech truly is.”
A muscle jumps along Lord Castor’s jaw. His hands curl once at his sides, slow and deliberate, as if he’s physically forcing himself not to break something. The hall seems to shrink around him, the weight of Jupiter’s storm gathering behind his eyes.
“You speak boldly for someone who hides behind machines,” Lord Castor says, voice low. “If your innovations were half as brilliant as your insults, Commander … perhaps they wouldn’t be so easily stolen.”
A ripple moves through the crowd. Venus aides tilt toward each other, whispering behind jeweled hands.
Mars aides shift subtly, ready for violence but unwilling to be the first to draw.
Saturn scholars exchange glances, equal parts alarmed and fascinated.
Even the Cardinals stiffen, sensing just how quickly this exchange could ignite.
Commander Kaelix only smiles, thin and sharp, pleased to have struck the nerve they were aiming for.
Lady Tavia moves forward from Mercury’s delegation, her diplomatic training evident in the careful modulation of her voice.
“We should consider that this breach represents a vulnerability in all our systems. If Uranus tech can be compromised, Mercury’s communications could be next.
Or Saturn’s archives. Or Mars’s military protocols. ”
Murmurs rise in pockets around the hall, voices overlapping in worried speculation.
Commander Kaelix tilts their head, studying the Cardinals with clinical detachment. “Or … perhaps this is the result of central authority stretched thin. The Cardinals have lost control, and now they’re scrambling to pin the blame on anyone but themselves.”
Cardinal Benedict’s eyes fix on the Commander coldly. “Uranus would do well to remember its place.”
Commander Kaelix offers a faint smile that has no warmth. “My place is wherever the system fails. Which seems to be right here.”
Cardinal Maria interjects, her voice rising through the growing noise. “We are increasing internal wards. Additional barriers will be placed on all residential quarters and access points. You will all be protected, we can assure you.”
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Lord Evander clears his throat, his long-fingered hands folded carefully in front of him. “Protection is not the concern here, Cardinals. Trust is.”
The hall goes still for a moment, as everyone registers his words.
Cardinal Maria’s composure falters for the briefest moment, a muscle twitching at the corner of her thin mouth.
I turn to catch Ren’s eyes flick toward the Cardinal for a brief moment … and it’s almost as if there’s a hint of doubt in her expression.
Lord Castor folds his arms across his broad chest, his scarred hands gripping his biceps. “Cardinals … if your security cannot guarantee our safety, say so.”
Cardinal Benedict lifts his chin, his expression hardening. “We have the situation under control.”
The leaders don’t believe him. I can see it in the way Commander Kaelix’s expression shifts from contempt to calculation, in the cold assessment that flashes across Isolde’s beautiful face, in the way Lady Nerida’s shifting eyes focus on things I can’t see.
The room begins to swell with overlapping frustration, voices rising in accusation and defence.
I listen as Commander Kaelix demands full access to the override device for analysis, their tone dripping with barely subdued fury.
Lady Tavia suggests pooling intelligence resources to identify the source of the tech theft.
Lord Castor warns that Jupiter will not tolerate further negligence, his voice loud enough to rattle the banners overhead.
The Cardinals try to maintain order, but the hall is losing its shape.
They are losing the room.
The noise rises, filling the cavernous hall until it feels too tight, too crowded. Voices collide and fracture, and I feel the room tipping toward danger.
Before I can reconsider, I step forward.
The sound doesn’t exactly stop, but it falters. A break in the current. Faces turn toward me, some curious, some irritated, some surprised.
“If someone stole Uranus tech to breach my quarters,” I say, my voice steadier and louder than I thought possible, “they wanted this reaction. They wanted us shouting, instead of listening.”
Dozens of eyes fix on me. Lord Castor’s beady gaze sharpens with assessment. Commander Kaelix watches with new curiosity, their electric blue eyes glowing.
“We gain nothing by blaming each other,” I continue, forcing myself to meet their gazes one by one. “Someone used experimental override technology to provoke a fracture. If we spend our energy tearing into each other, we give them what they want.”
The hall falls silent.
Cardinal Benedict seizes the moment, stepping forward with renewed authority. “Lady Cyra is correct.”
He tries to turn my words into his, to reclaim control of the room, but the gathered delegates know better. They heard where the stability came from, and it wasn’t from the Cardinals.
“Security protocols are already being restructured,” Cardinal Maria says. “A breach will not happen again.”
Whether the leaders believe her or not, the shouting has stopped. The tension remains under the surface, but the room has found its equilibrium again.
Cardinal Benedict allows a pause, then continues with measured authority. “Now that we have addressed the security matter, we must turn our attention to the Conclave itself. The second trial will commence in two days’ time.”
The shift in topic is deliberate, an attempt to redirect focus from their failures to the competition. Murmurs ripple through the chamber again, but this time with anticipation rather than anger.
“This trial will test not only your individual capabilities,” Cardinal Benedict says, “but your ability to lead and trust others. You will be divided into two teams. Assignments will be determined by random selection to ensure fairness.”
My stomach drops.
“Each team will navigate the Fractured Mirror,” Cardinal Benedict continues, “a labyrinth designed to test wisdom, collaboration, and the courage to trust others when your own perceptions fail you.” He lifts a crystalline sphere that glows from within, light pulsing like a heartbeat.
“The maze responds to emotional states and deepest fears. Only by working together can you hope to reach the relic at its centre and win.”
The withdrawal pulses under my ribs. If the maze feeds on fear and emotional instability, I’m already compromised.
Cardinal Benedict gestures to a young Cardinal carrying an ornate box. “Team assignments will be drawn now. The first name called leads Team One.”
The Cardinal reaches into the box. His fingers close around a crystal that flares bright gold.
“Lady Cyra of the Sun Kingdom.”
The words wash over me like a surge.