The Crown That Dared to Speak Her Name
The inner chamber of the royal citadel wasn't grand.
It was clean. Sharp. Almost hollow.
Pillars of pale white resonance-crystal circled a polished obsidian floor. No throne. Just a low, circular seat at the far end, designed to seem equal.
Zephryn stood opposite it.
Alone.
He didn't fidget. Didn't pace.
He simply waited.
The double doors behind him remained closed. Not locked. Just heavy.
The king arrived without herald.
He walked with a rhythm that didn't announce power—but hinted that he knew what it cost. His robe was quiet gold. His eyes clouded but not dull. A man who had seen decades of Veilmark wars and come out with just enough soul left to carry a crown.
He stopped five paces from Zephryn.
Didn't sit.
Didn't smile.
Didn't lie.
"You're alive."
Zephryn said nothing.
"You shouldn't be."
Still silence.
"And yet… here you are. Not hiding. Not begging. Not even asking questions."
He looked Zephryn over slowly. Noticing the Veilmarks. The stance. The silence.
"That's how I know it's you."
The king finally sat.
No one else entered.
"Solara," he said softly, "was a fine soldier."
Zephryn's head lifted slightly.
Not enough to be rude.
Just enough to remind the king not to use that name without weight.
The king didn't flinch.
"She saved hundreds before the Choir found her. You know that, right?"
Zephryn's jaw tightened.
The king exhaled. "You'll have questions. You'll get answers. But you're not a citizen anymore, Zephryn. You're an unknown variable with an unregistered mark. The Lyceum will want to scan you."
He reached into his sleeve.
Pulled a small envelope—sealed with glyphprint.
"Inside is a pass to the dormitories. You'll find quarters there. A student robe. Celestols for food. And a key."
He held it out.
Zephryn didn't take it.
"You have until morning. Attend the scan. Or don't. But if you want to walk these streets with a name again, you'll need their approval."
A long pause.
Then the king leaned back.
"I hope the Choir doesn't get sound of this."
Zephryn took the envelope.
And walked out.
He didn't look back.
Because he didn't need to.