The third day of the Candidate Trials.
Another tea party.
Another room spun from gold and glass.
Valeria stood at the entrance for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze sweeping the space. Different hosts this time. Different sigils woven into the silken banners draping the walls. But the feeling? The same.
Elegant nobles perched in cushioned chairs, sipping from crystal glasses and laughing with the calculated ease of predators at rest. Servants floated by with trays of imported fruits and delicate pastries spelled to remain eternally fresh. In the center, once again, the familiar sight: a wide, suspended scrying orb, its mirrored surface displaying shifting glimpses of the ongoing Candidate Trials.
The forest-like arena had changed—less vibrant now. The ground looked torn, the trees thinner, darker. Fewer candidates moved through the space. The culling was well underway.
Valeria stepped fully into the salon.
She knew what this was.
