Chapter 27. Assembly of the Moon

The Conclave doors opened on a sound that wasn’t applause and wasn’t prayer. It was the inhale of an audience that meant to eat what it had been promised.

The Hall of Phases gleamed, a crescent of thrones perched above a floor of black glass. Twelve elders seated, one seat empty for a thirteenth who had the right to arrive late and be forgiven. Lanterns hung from chains like captured stars. The air hummed with wards so old they’d forgotten their own instructions and were following memory instead.

I wore plain dark cloth and the veil Rhea had given me—folded back over my hair, not my face. The brand sat visible where my collar dipped, quiet as an eye that had decided blinking was overrated. The anchor Mavienne had tied around my wrist lay warm like a hand. Kael walked beside me. Syra paced a half-step behind. Ilyra strode ahead like a woman coming to collect gossip that owed her money.

We took our places on the floor beneath the dais. Garran stood to our left. Leth