Chapter 29. The Summons

Dawn cracked like bone. The Conclave gathered like a storm choosing a hill to ruin.

We stood where we had the day before, each in our places as if we’d always belonged to these exact inches of stone. The Clerk of Moon wore a look of ceremonial satisfaction—paperwork was about to become weaponry, his preferred miracle.

“By ordinance of the Thirteen,” he intoned, “by witness of the Mother, by counsel of the Seers, the Moon Court convenes the Trials.”

The word hung. No one cheered. You don’t applaud weather.

“Order of inquiry,” Mara said, voice even: “Bond. Blood. Law.”

Rellan’s mouth tightened; he’d wanted Law first to make abjuration taste like mercy. Ilyra permitted herself a visible breath of pleasure. It looked like someone had paid a bill on time.

The Clerk lifted a silver plate etched with phases. The wards bent toward it like dogs who knew a command they didn’t love. Letters rose from nothing, liquid and bright, coalescing into lines we could