Chapter 24 #2
The architecture itself seems designed to inspire awe and fear in equal measure.
Every line is sharp, every surface gleaming with unnatural perfection.
Guards patrol the walls in precise formations, their armor glinting in the fading light.
Massive ballistae are positioned at strategic points, ready to defend against aerial attacks, or perhaps just to remind the citizens below of the emperor's reach.
She's taking us right to the palace, I realize with growing alarm as Orphara continues her direct course.
I glance sideways at Byron suspended feet away from me. But his profile cuts sharp against the sky, wind tousling his blond hair, jaw set, eyes locked with intense focus on the looming structure ahead.
As we near the palace, Orphara begins to climb higher, her powerful wings carrying us in ever-tightening spirals.
I realize with a jolt of panic that she's aiming for the highest spire.
The central tower that rises above all others, piercing the sky like a dagger.
The emperor's personal quarters must lie directly below.
“Is she mad?” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs as I understand Selen's target. This is the very heart of imperial power. The sanctum above which no unauthorized citizen has ever flown. The penalties for such trespass would be beyond imagination.
Orphara's trajectory leaves no doubt. We're headed for the pinnacle itself: the very apex of the empire's power. The place from which all authority flows, where decrees that have crushed thousands of lives originate. The source of the edict that condemned us all to the Ironhold.
The void drake slows as she approaches the highest point of the central spire, her massive wings now beating gently to keep us hovering.
I notice a small surface at the very top, barely large enough for us all to stand on, with no railings, nothing between us and the dizzying drop to the palace grounds far below.
With impossible grace, Orphara extends her foreclaws toward the surface. I feel myself being lowered, her grip loosening as my feet touch solid stone. Across from me, Byron steps free with similar ease, his eyes cool and steady as he surveys the scene.
One by one, Selen ushers the others off Orphara's back. They inch their way down her scales, movements stiff with nerves. Selen is the last to disembark after whispering something to the drake, who remains hovering in the air.
I step forward cautiously, my legs unsteady after the flight. The wind is fierce at this height, whipping around us with enough force that I instinctively crouch lower, seeking stability. The platform beneath my feet is warm from the day's sun, the stone smooth from centuries of weather.
“Look around you,” Selen says, her voice carrying despite the wind. “Take it in.”
I raise my eyes, and the breath catches in my throat.
The entire empire of Thalyris spreads beneath us in all directions, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon.
The city's concentric rings, the sprawling countryside beyond, the distant mountains where the Ironhold squats like a malignant growth—all of it visible from this single point.
I can see the river that cuts through the Capital, glittering like molten copper in the sunlight.
The great coliseum where imperial champions fight.
The industrial districts belching smoke into the air.
“We stand at the highest point in the empire,” Selen continues, walking to the edge of the platform. “Higher even than the emperor himself.”
I glance at my companions, seeing my own awe reflected in their faces.
Ellis stands with his mouth slightly open, wonder transforming his scholarly features.
Lira's gray eyes shine with an emotion I can't quite name—rage or revelation or both.
Nyx stands tall, her muscular frame silhouetted against the sky, her expression fierce and proud.
Sariah's gold-flecked eyes scan the horizon as if memorizing every detail, while Vex crouches at the edge, her fingers pressed against the stone as if to anchor herself.
The Laverte twin—Talyra?—stands apart from the others, her face taut with a complex emotion that seems to war between fear and longing.
Byron alone seems unsurprised by our location, though his strange amber-threaded eyes have taken on a new intensity.
I turn back to the view, suddenly overwhelmed by the implications of where we stand. From this vantage point, the emperor's domain seems simultaneously vast and small: a patchwork of light and shadow, power and poverty, all stitched together by the will of a single man.
A man who, for all his might, might never have even stood where we stand now.
“Tell me,” Selen says, her voice dropping to barely above the wind's whisper, “what do you see when you look down there?”
Silence hangs for a moment, heavy with uncertainty.
“I see the empire,” Ellis offers cautiously.
“I see a prison,” Lira counters, her voice hard.
“I see everything I'll never have,” Vex murmurs.
Selen turns to me, her teal eyes expectant. “And you, Veyra?”
I gaze at her, realizing it’s the first time she’s used my name. The question settles in me like a stone dropped into still water, ripples spreading outward. I look again at the sprawling city, the palace below, the distant mountains… and something shifts in my perception.
“I see... a construct,” I say slowly, the words forming as the thought crystallizes. “Something built by… mortal hands.”
Selen's eyes flash with approval. “Precisely. You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
She turns to address us all, her silver hair catching the light like a crown. “Everything you see—every tower, every wall, every division between those who rule and those who serve—was built by mortals. Mortal fae with hands and hearts and fears.”
She pauses, letting the words sink in.
“Even the emperor bleeds,” she continues. “Even he must sleep… Even he fears death.”
Something stirs in my chest at her words.
Not hope exactly, but something adjacent to it.
A realization that has, perhaps, been forming since I first connected with the ashblood in the training pit.
The empire, with all its might and cruelty, is not an immutable force of nature.
It's a mortal creation, sustained by mortal belief.
And I could decide to not believe in it.
I notice Byron, finding his eyes already on me, watching with such closeness that it almost makes me think he's following my thoughts. He gives me the barest nod, as if confirming something only he can see.
“The empire tells you that you are small,” Selen continues. “That your only worth lies in your service to power. That the magic in your blood is a defect to be feared and controlled.”
The word “magic” sends a ripple through our group. Ellis's eyes widen, while Lira's skirt uncomfortably. Nyx shifts her weight, suddenly tense.
“They lie,” Selen says simply. “And the greatest power they hold over you is not their walls or their weapons, but your belief in your own smallness.”
She walks the perimeter of our small platform, meeting each fae’s eyes in turn.
“Why did you bring us here?” Talyra asks, speaking for the first time, her voice carrying a note of challenge.
Selen smiles, but doesn't answer immediately. She turns to face the sun, her profile sharp against the late afternoon sky.
“I brought you here to ask a simple question,” she says. “Standing at the highest point in the empire, looking down at all that has been built to contain you, what will you choose to believe about yourself?”
The question hangs in the air between us, profound in its simplicity. I feel something shift inside me. A subtle realignment, like a dislocated joint slipping back into place.
For all my life, I've been told I am small. Insignificant. A ward girl from the slums, destined for the arena or the brothels or an early grave. Someone whose only worth lay in what could be extracted from her.
But standing here, above the emperor himself, with the wind in my hair and the memory of flight still tingling in my veins, I feel the lie of it all.