CHAPTER SEVEN: THE KING'S FLAME (Part five)
The resonance faded.
But it didn't leave.
It lingered, just under the floor, like an old name whispered into stone.
Timishu held her position.
Zephryn didn't move.
Vaelen exhaled, the edge of his voice tightening.
"You've made quite an impression at the Lyceum."
Silence.
"You should know," he continued, stepping around the center ring, "that several instructors have already inquired about your resonance pattern. Your glyph incident is being reviewed."
Zephryn narrowed his eyes.
"By who?"
Vaelen's answer came without hesitation.
"By those beyond the Lyceum."
The room dropped a breath colder.
Zephryn didn't blink.
But the pulse mark under his sleeve shifted.
"You mean the Choir."
Timishu finally spoke.
Soft. Clear.
No emotion.
"The Hollow Choir doesn't need to look far. They've already heard the name."
Zephryn turned slowly toward her.
Her expression didn't change.
And that—more than anything—said everything.
"I didn't come here to be watched," Zephryn said.
"I came to remember."
Vaelen's voice hardened.
"And what you remember might tear this kingdom in two."
"Then maybe it needs to break."
A flare sparked in the pendant at his chest.
Just once.
A silver pulse—quiet but undeniable.
Vaelen took a step back toward the throne.
"Go."
Zephryn didn't move.
Not yet.
The air was still too heavy.
The hum too near.
But the moment he turned,
Timishu looked at him one last time.
And for the first time since entering the chamber—
she nodded.
Once.
Like she agreed.