Chapter Four: The Broken Chord (Part One)
Date: May 22, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 22)
Location: Trial Arena – Harmonic Lyceum
Time: Afternoon
Yolti left the ring without applause. She didn't need it.
The echo of her final lattice still hovered in the dust behind her, fragments of quiet glyphlight settling like snow across the stone. Her breathing was steady. Her hands didn't shake. The fight was over—but her presence hadn't dimmed.
She walked past Kaelen without a word.
He nodded. "You could've broken him."
Yolti didn't look back.
"That's not what I do."
At the edge of the formation ring, Selka stirred. Her body was still stiff from the collapse, her glyphs dimmed from overuse—but she was awake now. Focused. She watched Yolti return, eyes sharp.
But before the silence could settle, the instructor's voice cracked through the air—raw and sudden.
"There's been a change."
The crowd shifted. Something in the tension changed pitch. Across the arena, the glyphlines pulsed a new color—deep gold, instead of white.
"Due to limited active students, the next evaluation will not follow standard pairings."
"Three names. One ring. Survival protocol."
Zephryn's pulse skipped.
"Zephryn.
Lumyra.
Riko.
Enter the field."
Selka sat forward. "What?"
Kaelen's jaw flexed. "That's not a match."
"That's a sentence."
Zephryn's feet moved before his mind caught up.
He stepped forward.
Lumyra was already halfway down the line, her movement smooth, hair glinting silver-black in the high sun. Riko followed—not swaggering, but certain. His expression unreadable. A brawler's shoulders, stone-cut glyphs banded across both forearms.
Zephryn said nothing.
Behind him, Selka rose unsteadily, resting her hand on the stone beside her. She didn't shout. But her eyes didn't leave his back.
Not once.
From the tower above, the royal gallery remained still.
King Vaelen Tiramis leaned forward, one hand pressed to the railing. His silver rings caught the light. His face showed no emotion.
Thaelen stood at his side, arms folded.
"That one," Vaelen said. "The boy with the black-thread cloak."
"Zephryn," Thaelen answered.
"The Crystal Monarch's heir?"
Thaelen hesitated.
"That's what the rumors say."
The King exhaled once. "We'll see."
Zephryn stepped into the ring.
He didn't activate a glyph.
He didn't touch the Veil.
He just stood there.
Lumyra and Riko took position opposite him, both at opposite points—triangle formation. Zephryn stood at the apex.
The instructor raised a hand.
"No team protocols.
No yield clause.
Engage."
Riko moved first.
He came in sharp, low—his right arm snapping back with a wide rotational spin. His glyph flared across his elbow like a stone plate dragged through heat.
Lumyra followed a second later, cutting in from above with light-shadow flickerstep. Her blade flashed in and out of visibility.
Zephryn didn't brace.
He moved.
Bubbalor's hum wasn't loud. It was quiet, almost buried beneath the roar of the crowd. But Zephryn heard it. Felt it.
Left. Low. Turn. Roll.
His foot caught the edge of a glyphline—and he bent.
Riko's strike missed his jaw by a breath.
Lumyra came down, blade arcing.
Zephryn dropped to the ground, one hand sliding through dust, body spinning as Bubbalor weaved beneath his ribs like smoke through glass.
He was up again in a blink—just far enough to see their next strike before it landed.
From above, Vaelen narrowed his eyes.
"He's not using Veilmark."
"No," Thaelen said. "He's using rhythm."
Vaelen's voice sharpened. "Then who's singing?"
Riko landed a knee to Zephryn's ribs.
The boy grunted—body folding inward—but he didn't fall.
He pivoted, letting the strike pass, then used the momentum to stumble into Lumyra's blind side. She swung—
Zephryn fell back again.
Dust exploded from his landing.
His shoulder cracked stone.
He didn't scream.
He rolled.
Riko closed the gap again. "No Veilmark? What's the matter—afraid we'll see how weak you really are?"
Lumyra's voice came softer—but colder.
"You don't belong here."
Zephryn's breath caught.
Not from the pain.
From the words.
You don't belong here.
The memory flashed—blinding.
Volume I. The false gates. The false Lyceum.
Riko. Standing tall.
"You shouldn't be here. Go back to your little cave. You're nothing. Your mother's nothing."
"The flame dies with her."
Zephryn's eyes widened.
"You said that," he breathed. "You… said that to me."
Lumyra raised her blade. "We're saying it again."
They moved together.
Bubbalor hissed—but Zephryn's legs faltered. Blood trickled from his lip.
He couldn't dodge forever.
Riko's fist blurred.
Lumyra's blade descended.
Selka stood.
From the stands, her voice didn't rise.
But her lips moved.
"Remember."
Bubbalor screamed.
The glyph beneath Zephryn's feet lit up—not from command, but from memory.
His eyes flashed with the color of a fire never given, only remembered.
And when the strike landed—
He wasn't there.