CH. 43 The Trial of Integrity, Part III
For a long moment, no one breathes.
The Resanarum falls completely silent — the kind of silence that swallows even thought.
Then, slowly, the light gathers behind Sorien and takes form.
A woman steps out.
Long black hair cascading like ink down her back.
Eyes bright as twilight.
Her gown shimmers faintly, stitched with moonlight.
And when she smiles, it’s soft, familiar, and entirely wrong.
Because it’s me.
It’s Andromeda.
---
I sit bolt upright in my seat on the balcony. “What— oh, come on!”
Gavin mutters, “Is that…?”
“Yes,” Farro says, squinting. “It’s the parade girl.” Then, smirking, “He’s hallucinating about her again.”
“I heard that,” I shout, crossing my arms. “And for the record, this is not my fault!”
But no one hears me down there — the illusion has swallowed Sorien whole.
---
The false Andromeda moves closer. Her voice is gentle, like the hum before a storm.
“You’ve fought enough,” she says. “Bled enough. Look at you — always carrying others, always trying to be more than they’ll allow. You don’t have to anymore.”
Sorien watches her warily, sword still in hand, but not raised.
“This isn’t real,” he says softly. “You’re not her.”
“Maybe not,” she answers. “But what I offer is real. Peace. A home far from Gazaar. No thrones. No Seers. Just us.”
Her hand lifts — delicate, patient — like she’s offering salvation itself.
---
I lean forward over the railing, whispering, “Don’t you dare, Sorien. Don’t you dare be romantic right now.”
But it’s hard to breathe.
Because part of me wonders — if that were really me standing there, saying those words… would I mean them?
Would I run, if it meant peace?
---
The illusion shifts — and suddenly, Sorien sees it:
A cottage at the edge of a lake.
The same one where we met under moonlight.
And there — two small figures playing in the grass, laughter ringing like bells.
A family. His family.
The false Andromeda’s smile deepens.
“You could have this. A life without battles, without crowns, without pain. You’ve earned it, Sorien.”
He takes one step forward.
Just one.
My heart seizes.
---
Farro whispers to Gavin, “Is he really thinking about it?”
Gavin says nothing. His jaw tightens.
Below, Sorien’s eyes flicker — longing, exhaustion, disbelief.
He kneels in front of her, reaching out a trembling hand.
And for a heartbeat, I think he’s going to take it.
I think he’s going to choose peace. Choose her. Choose me.
---
Then, his fingers stop just shy of hers.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he says quietly. “Of rest. Of… her.”
His voice falters, gentle as confession.
“But peace without purpose is only another kind of cage.”
The false Andromeda tilts her head. “And what has purpose ever given you? Pain. Loss. Loneliness.”
He exhales. “Yes. But it’s mine.”
He draws his hand back.
The illusion trembles. “You’ll regret this.”
He almost smiles. “I already do.”
---
The false Andromeda’s expression flickers — her perfect calm cracking, splintering like porcelain.
And then, with one final whisper — “You could’ve been happy…” — she shatters.
The golden mirage collapses in on itself, raining shards of light that dissolve before they touch the ground.
The Resanarum returns to silence.
Sorien stands alone in the center, shoulders bowed, breathing hard. The other princes watch him — neither mocking nor pitying. Just quiet.
Maybe for the first time, they understand him.
---
I slump back in my seat, pressing a hand to my chest. “Well,” I whisper to no one, “congratulations, Sorien. You passed the trial. And possibly broke my heart.”
From below, Farro calls out, “What happens now?”
The air ripples.
The Seer’s voice returns — soft, almost approving.
“Integrity is not choosing peace over truth.
It is standing when comfort asks you to kneel.”
The gold fades from the floor.
The illusion dissolves entirely.
And with it, the trial ends.