26. Seren
SEREN
Morning comes without mercy.
The air smells stagnant. The lack of a window is a luxury I never realised I had until it was stripped away. It’s frightening how quickly I became accustomed to comfort. Trapped in this new cell—no light, no breeze, no sound—I feel more isolated than ever.
This is the room I expected when I first arrived. I see now how easily I fell into their gilded trap.
The darkness makes me think of the Hollow—and of everything Sylas never got to see. He would have loved the pastel sky. Twenty-five years he lived without the sun warming his skin, and I was the one who took that chance away from him.
A crushing weight settles in my chest, a void expanding with every breath. I stretch my palms out in the dark, feeling the ghost of his blood dripping through my fingers. Perhaps this is exactly where I belong: a monster confined, unable to hurt anyone again.
Da would be so disappointed. He fought so hard to scrape a life for us, to teach us how to survive. Yet, in the end, it wasn’t the rot or the deprivation that ended Sylas. It was me. Me and my shadows. I did everything he told me not to do, and this is where it has led.
Kael’s words ring through my skull on an endless loop. I called for Nyx. For him. It makes no sense.
Very few worship her now, for fear of the Sun House. But I remember the hurried footsteps and the whispered Rites in the Hollow—the nights perched on the windowsill, staring into the dark. I remember the workers mumbling that the Veil doesn’t just pick anyone.
I had brushed all these whispers off as the desperate hopes of a broken people, but now I wonder.
The door opens softly. The scent of incense curls through the gap before he appears. Uri, the High Luminary of Mercy, steps inside as if entering a chapel. His robes are immaculate, his voice pitched low, a practiced comfort.
“Good morning, my child. Did you sleep?”
I sit up, pooling the covers to my lap. “I tried.”
“That’s all any of us can do.” He crosses the room and taps the bundle in his hands—a thick roll of parchment and a freshly cut stick of charcoal, all bound in a white ribbon. “I brought you something.”
My eyes flick from the guards to him, then to the bundle. “Oh. Th—thank you.”
He unties the ribbon, his fingers delicate as if caressing a lover. “I told you I would try. I thought that after what you’ve endured, you might like to put your dreams on paper. It might help shed some….unwanted tension before your next test.”
The way he says test makes a knot form in my stomach.
I want to believe he’s here to help, but Kael’s warning lingers.
I take the parchment, careful to avoid his touch.
The paper is smooth, expensive—real parchment, the kind of luxury I’ve never touched in the Hollow.
It’s the sort of gift you give to someone whose worth you’ve already measured.
“Draw what you see,” he says quietly, his hand landing on the duvet, finding the shape of my leg beneath the fabric. “All of it. Don’t leave anything out. When you finish, I’ll look after the pieces myself. I wouldn’t want them…getting into the wrong hands.”
He smiles, and the twinkle in his eyes is blinding.
“Why?”
“Because your dreams belong to the Light now, my dear.” His tone is gentle, but something cold moves beneath it. The word belong settles on me like a chain I didn’t feel clasp. “We keep what might harm you. You want that, don’t you? To be safe?”
I nod, though a small part of me wonders if safety and silence are the same thing.
He watches as I observe the paper and coal. The charcoal feels heavy, as if it remembers everything I’ve drawn. Something inside me recoils from it, like an animal sensing a trap.
I force lines to appear—curving shapes, a woman’s hair turning to smoke, the arc of a crescent above a hollow eye.
Uri hums. Pleased. “Beautiful.”
The compliment tastes wrong. Still, I keep drawing until the page is full and my hand aches. When I hand it to him, his fingers brush mine—too warm, too certain.
“You see?” he murmurs. “The Light can make even the blackest of ink serve a purpose.”
He rolls the parchment, tying it with the white ribbon before tucking it into his robes. “Keep the charcoal and the rest of the paper. Think of it as a small token of my appreciation. I’ll see you shortly.”
He rises, leaning over me as his soft lips brush gently across my forehead. The skin sizzles beneath his touch. He turns to go, but adds over his shoulder, “Be calm during the test, Seren. Mercy is granted to those who deserve it.”
The door closes, the scent of incense lingering in the stagnant air. I look at the charcoal staining my fingers, feeling the weight of a regret I can’t yet name.
Time crawls. Uri’s words circle in my mind. They sound kind, but my shadows stir restlessly, sensing the hook hidden in the bait.
* * *
The door opens, and the curtain on my mind is lifted, leaving the stage bare.
Kael stands there, eyes shadowed, posture crisp. He doesn’t speak as he crosses the threshold and lays out a new set of clothes. He turns his back to give me privacy, the sound of a zipper closing filling the void.
My pendant stares at me from the bedside table. My shadows curl tighter as the silver draws me in. I chance a glance at Kael’s back before I snatch it, locking the clasp and tucking the metal beneath my collar.
“They’re waiting,” he says. His voice is groggy—from sleep or shouting. I can’t tell.
“What exactly are they waiting for?” I ask, though the answer already stirs in my gut.
“Your final evaluation.”
His tone gives nothing away; he sounds almost bored. The chain he carries glints as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. A sharp click draws my gaze down to the fresh metal adorning my wrists. A pit of dread opens inside me, threatening to erupt.
We walk in silence through the corridors bright enough to blind. The air hums differently today—charged, expectant. Guards line the hall, their armour burnished until it mirrors the walls.
A sea of browns and creams surrounds us. An army of faceless spectators, their malicious curiosity the only thing visible behind their masks. Their murmurs ring out like a chorus from a perfectly tuned song.
Static energy pricks my skin, making my hair stand on end.
I wasn’t expecting an audience. My shadows try to hide between my legs, but they are naked under this light.
I look down at my bound hands, feeling exactly like the monster they’ve painted me to be.
A perfect rendering of everything they despise.
The murmurs die into a hushed silence as Uri steps from a side passage, cutting us off.
The guards freeze; even Kael’s pace falters. Uri’s robe gleams, crease-less and blinding. His smile peeks out from beneath a gold, winged mask, his deep emerald eyes twinkling through the slits.
“Seren,” he says smoothly. “A word, before you meet with the remaining members of the Triarch.”
Kael’s hand twitches against the chains. “She is under escort…sir.”
“And you are under me,” Uri replies. “A moment will suffice. I do not wish to keep them waiting.”
Kael’s jaw tightens, a single muscle flickering wildly, but he steps back as far as the chains allow. He doesn’t look at me.
Uri closes the distance. His sweet, sickly scent sends a surge of nausea through my stomach. “Are you well, my dear?”
“Yes…thank you.”
“Good…good. You shouldn’t fear today. This is where faith and obedience will free you.”
“Obedience?” The word cuts my tongue. “You said I would be shown mercy?”
“I believe I said mercy is given to those who deserve it.” A cruel smile twists his features. “In Auria, mercy and obedience are the same thing.” He raises a finger, tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Let us see how well you obey.”
The warmth in his eyes turns to ice. “Do as we ask, and you will be free.”
I pull back. “At what cost?”
He chuckles, his eyes narrowing behind the slits of his mask. “My dear child, that is for the Triarch to decide. You may be blessed, Seren, but even blessings can fester unless dealt with…appropriately.”
A single, warm finger traces the outline of my jaw. “You will do as you are told, or I will see to your reprimand myself. And when I do, you’ll beg for Riven.” He pulls out the rolled parchment from his robes and taps it slowly against his palm. My soul, drawn in charcoal, held hostage.
“Sir. We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” Kael says quietly.
Uri pulls his hand away, his posture returning to effortless composure. “Ah, our faithful shadow-scholar. Do be sure to get her to the chamber safely, won’t you? It’s such an arduous task for you.”
He turns and glides away, robes hissing over the marble, leaving only the echo of his perfume and the heat blooming my face.
Kael doesn’t speak. But his expression is as solid as the walls around us, his gaze fixed forward as he resumes our march. The chain between us is the only thing that connects me to the world, and today, it feels like a fuse. Yet I’m the one holding the match.
* * *
The chamber swallows the sound. White marble, gold filigree, twelve steps leading up to three thrones. The High Luminaries sit above the gathered priests—Uri in the centre, each feather of his winged mask glowing in the light.
Beside him sits the High Luminary of Radiance, broad-shouldered and wearing a mask of a blazing sun. To his left, the lone woman circled in fire; the High Luminary of Judgement. I remember their fables well; they look exactly like the stories.
Their sun-emblazoned robes shimmer as they shift in their seats. Riven stands to the side, a mask of cold indifference hiding the cruel smile that twists his features.
Kael directs me to the circle at the room’s heart. My bare feet land on runes that glow with a faint light. The hum vibrates through my soles, sending a deceptive warmth through my limbs. Kael stands near the dais, parchment in hand, watching.