**Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Voice Beneath the Throne**
Victory leaves echoes.
After Lord Marren's death, the court shifted.
Nobles who once whispered behind wine goblets now bowed deeper when I passed.
But fear is not the same as loyalty.
And I didn't want either.
I wanted truth.
I wanted security.
And I wanted to know how far the rot went beneath our feet.
So I returned to the tunnels.
This time, alone.
No guards.
No Elira.
No firelight.
Just a map Bram had drawn before he died…
…and the pendant Thalia had gifted me—one that pulsed faintly in darkness, reacting to blood traces and ink invisible to the eye.
* * *
The tunnel led deeper than I thought.
Beyond the prison cells.
Past the old catacombs.
Until the walls turned from stone… to iron.
And I found it.
A door.
Sealed in gold wax.
Marked with a crest I had never seen before.
A mouth stitched shut in silver.
It didn't open with keys.
It didn't open with force.
But when I pressed the pendant against it—it pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then the seal melted.
And the door opened.
* * *
Inside was silence.
Not quiet.
Real silence.
The kind that made your ears ring.
The kind that tasted like ash and ancient bones.
The air was thick.
The walls pulsed faintly with glyphs I couldn't read.
And in the center sat a single chair.
Black stone.
Chains hanging from its arms.
And in it—
A man.
* * *
He looked no older than thirty.
But his eyes…
They were timeless.
Gray. Hollow. Endless.
He didn't flinch when I entered.
Didn't blink.
Just watched me.
Then—he spoke.
"You're late."
I froze.
"You were expecting me?"
"Ivelyn promised you'd come."
My heart skipped.
"You knew Queen Ivelyn?"
"I knew her truths," he said.
"I carry her blood," I whispered.
"I know."
He stood, slowly.
The chains unlatched on their own.
He stepped down from the platform.
And for a moment, I thought he would vanish like a ghost.
But he didn't.
He came closer.
And extended a hand.
"I am Solas," he said. "The Voice beneath the Throne. The memory they tried to bury."
* * *
I didn't take his hand.
Not yet.
"Who imprisoned you?"
"Lies did. Wounds did. Fear did."
"Speak plainly."
He smiled, bitter.
"I was Ivelyn's truthspeaker. Her last. Before the fire. I kept her secrets. I guided her justice. And when they killed her, they came for me next."
"But you're alive."
"Because I made a pact with silence. In exchange for my breath, I agreed to vanish. To stay beneath. To wait."
"For what?"
"You."
* * *
He walked past me now.
To a small table I hadn't noticed before.
On it, scrolls.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
All bearing the same seal—the stitched mouth.
"These," he said, "are the truths they couldn't burn. The truths they couldn't rewrite."
He handed me one.
I unrolled it carefully.
And read.
> "The fire at Queen Ivelyn's coronation was planned by the High Priest himself. He feared her power. Her mind. Her independence."
> "The guards who opened the eastern gate were bribed. The torch was passed by a child. The smoke was meant to kill only one."
> "But they failed."
I looked up.
"You wrote this?"
"I recorded it. But it was Ivelyn's last command. That no matter what happened to her body… her truth would survive."
* * *
I couldn't breathe for a moment.
The weight of it.
The purpose of it.
Everything I'd fought to uncover…
And here it was.
In scrolls sealed beneath the ground.
Unburned.
Unbroken.
Unspoken—until now.
* * *
Solas touched the wall, and a hidden door opened.
Behind it, a stone vault.
"The Order of Cleansing Flame has returned," I said.
He nodded.
"And they'll keep returning. Until the throne forgets where it came from."
"I won't let that happen."
He smiled again—but this time with sadness.
"Many queens say that. Few bleed for it."
"I already have."
"I know. That's why I'm giving you these."
He handed me a satchel.
Inside—seven scrolls.
"The original pact," he said. "The words Ivelyn wrote when she crowned herself. It's time they were spoken again."
* * *
When I emerged from the tunnels, the sun had begun to rise.
The palace felt… smaller.
Not physically.
But in weight.
Because now I understood it.
The crown was never just power.
It was responsibility buried under ash.
It was truth chained underground.
It was names erased from walls so new ones could rule guilt-free.
But I would no longer be part of that silence.
* * *
I summoned the court that evening.
And I spoke.
"I found something beneath the palace."
Gasps.
"I found a man who was erased, and truths you never dared to speak."
"This kingdom was built on blood. But it was not all noble blood."
"Some of it was innocent."
"Some of it was mine."
"I will no longer carry a crown built on secrets."
I lifted the scroll.
"Ivelyn's pact. The original vow. Unbroken. Unburied. Read now, in the light."
And I read it aloud.
Every word.
Every truth.
The walls didn't fall.
But something did.
The lies.
They began to crack.
* * *
Lorenzo came to me that night.
"You shook the foundation," he said.
"I did more than shake it," I whispered.
"I began tearing it down."
He took my hand.
"You're ready for the next war."
"What war?"
"The one inside."
* * *
He was right.
Because while swords are sharp…
Memories are sharper.
And the truth?
It never dies.
It just waits—beneath the throne.