The Imperial Court smelled like dust, incense, and doom.
Marble pillars loomed on either side. Sigil-engraved chandeliers floated above like judging stars. Rows of nobles filled the gallery seats, watching us like we were an especially interesting firework about to explode.
I did not want to explode.
Arwen stood beside me, perfectly still. Her coat was immaculate. Her gaze, lethal. Her posture said: "I'm not impressed." Her boots said: "I'm ready to kick someone."
The judge's podium rose at the far end, framed by a shimmering veil of magical law, and behind it, the Council of Binding waited. Robed, silent, pretending to be neutral.
At their center, Valesh smirked.
I hissed softly.
"Don't bite anyone," Arwen whispered.
"No promises."
---
The judge's voice echoed. "This Trial concerns the soulbeast presently unregistered and bound to Arwen Nightveil."
I fluffed my feathers. "That's me. Hi."
Someone in the gallery gasped. Another scribbled notes furiously.
Arwen didn't blink. "We're aware."
Valesh stepped forward. "Before proceedings, House Serathiel requests a comparison be shown."
Of course they did.
A door opened. Footsteps echoed. And the Serathiel soulbeast entered.
Tall. Sleek. Feathers like stormlight, eyes pale gold. He moved with precision. His binder, Lord Serathiel, wore arrogance like a crown.
"This," the lord said, "is Zephren. Properly named. Properly contained."
Zephren stared at me.
I stared back.
My spark itched.
"I hate him," I muttered.
"You don't even know him," Arwen replied.
"I don't have to. Look at him. Smug feathers."
---
The judge turned. "Arwen Nightveil. Do you intend to name your soulbeast before Trial conclusion?"
Arwen's voice was calm, deadly. "No."
Murmurs rose. The Council looked displeased.
Valesh stepped in. "Then, as per Empire law, the Council requests a spark scan for public record."
Arwen smiled coldly. "As per law, you'll need consent. I decline."
Gasps.
Valesh scowled. "That refusal constitutes..."
"Not a refusal. A delay. I'm invoking clause seventeen: Spark Sovereignty."
The judge hesitated. "Obscure. Rarely used."
"Still legal."
Silence.
Then: "Very well. The Trial proceeds."
I chirped. "She's good at this."
Arwen didn't smile. "They haven't seen anything yet."
"Perhaps," Lord Serathiel drawled, "a demonstration would clarify matters."
Arwen didn't blink. "A demonstration of what? Smugness?"
"Spark stability," he replied smoothly. "Zephren is willing to engage in a controlled resonance exchange."
I flared my feathers. "Is that a duel?"
"It's a trap," Arwen muttered.
Valesh stepped forward, too pleased. "The Court has sanctioned it. Neutral ground. Observers only."
Arwen hesitated.
I didn't. "Let me. I won't bite him. Much."
Her eyes locked onto mine... sharp, assessing. "You don't have to prove anything."
"I'm not proving," I chirped. "I'm warning."
---
The arena was summoned in seconds. Sigil lines burned across the marble, forming a circle of light. Nobles leaned forward. The Council murmured.
Zephren stood calm, composed. He bowed to the Court, not to me.
I didn't bow.
I hopped in, wings fluffed, spark simmering under my feathers.
The judge's voice rang out. "Begin."
---
Zephren moved first, not an attack, just a flare of his spark. Pale gold, cold, perfect.
I flared back. Gold-violet. Uneven. Mine.
The sparks clashed in the air... not violently, but like two songs trying to out-sing each other.
For a moment, the air sang.
Then I staggered.
Not from pain... from memory.
I saw him. Not Zephren... me. Another me. Standing beside another Arwen, older, battle-scarred. She screamed something. I flew. Light swallowed us.
---
I collapsed.
The spiral sigil on my chest burned. Not in pain. In recognition.
Zephren paused.
His eyes widened... just slightly.
He knew.
He saw it too.
---
Arwen rushed in. The duel was over.
Valesh shouted. The Council scrambled.
But I only saw Zephren, silent, retreating.
He wasn't just a soulbeast.
He was a mirror.
And mine had shattered long ago.
"You saw that," Valesh snapped, voice sharp. "Unstable spark. Uncontrolled. Dangerous."
I wobbled upright. "Still here. Still bitey."
The Council ignored me.
Valesh pointed. "This soulbeast's resonance disrupted the Court. He must be contained, named, or nullified."
"Nullified?" Arwen said softly.
Valesh didn't back down. "For public safety."
Arwen's voice turned to silk over steel. "You're afraid. Not for the public. For yourselves."
Gasps. Murmurs.
The Empress's aide raised a hand. "Order. We call for a forced naming."
Arwen stepped forward. "Over my corpse."
"You may not have a choice."
---
The courtroom flared with tension.
My spark burned... not wild, not erratic. Just angry.
I stood tall... or as tall as a fluffy creature can. My feathers glowed, not with chaos, but with clarity.
They wanted a spectacle?
Fine.
I flared my spark.
The floor cracked. Light surged. Nobles scrambled. A chandelier flickered.
And I spoke.
Loud. Clear. Whole.
"I am not yours."
Silence.
Frozen stares.
Someone fainted.
Arwen blinked. "You... spoke."
Valesh dropped his scroll.
I took a step forward. "Try to name me. See what happens."
The spiral sigil blazed.
And the Court, for once, had no words.
The silence was glorious.
I stood in the middle of the cracked floor, feathers glowing, spiral sigil still pulsing. My spark hummed like a storm held back by sheer stubbornness.
"I am not yours."
The words still echoed.
Not just in the Court... in me. I'd said them. Out loud. Full sentence. No chirps. No squeaks. Actual words.
Valesh opened his mouth.
Arwen beat him to it.
"Trial's over."
The judge floundered. "We... we must confer. There are procedures—"
"The spark has spoken," Arwen said. "Try to leash him now, and you'll start a war."
Eyes turned to the Council.
The Empress's aide whispered something to Valesh.
He paled.
A moment later, the judge announced, "Trial adjourned. No verdict rendered. Investigation pending."
---
Chaos followed.
Nobles argued. Papers flew. A chandelier fell... unrelated. Probably.
Arwen grabbed my paw and walked straight out the front doors.
No guards stopped us. No one dared.
Only one figure watched... Zephren, standing at the far end of the hall.
He didn't speak.
But our sparks resonated — just once.
Not in threat.
In understanding.
And that was somehow worse.
---
Back in our tower, the silence returned.
Arwen poured tea. I sat on her desk, spark still buzzing.
"You spoke," she said at last.
I nodded.
She sat. "You flared without losing control."
"Felt good."
She didn't smile. "They'll come harder now. That was your declaration."
I met her eyes. "We won't run."
"No," she said. "We fight. On our terms."
I tilted my head. "Do we pick the battlefield?"
Her voice was steel. "Exactly."
She opened a scroll.
"Because next time," she said, "we don't wait for their summons. We summon them."
---
Night fell, but the Empire didn't sleep.
Not when its nobility had witnessed something that wasn't supposed to happen.
Not when a soulbeast had spoken without being named.
And not when Arwen Nightveil sat in her tower, drafting letters that could start a political storm.
I watched her.
She didn't pace. She didn't mutter. She calculated.
Every brushstroke of her quill was a threat, every seal a declaration.
Each letter began the same:
> "You watched. You chose silence. Now choose a side."
---
I wandered to the balcony. The city glimmered. Somewhere far below, nobles whispered, plans unfolded, and House Serathiel no doubt polished their smug feathers.
I flexed my claws.
The spiral sigil on my chest shimmered faintly, not hot... waiting.
"You're different now."
I turned. Arwen stood in the doorway.
I chirped. "I was always me."
She stepped closer. "But now they know it."
I tilted my head. "Do you wish you'd named me?"
She didn't answer at first.
Then: "I wish you didn't have to fight."
I hopped to her shoulder. "We fight. Together."
She smiled, just barely.
And beneath us, in the city's shadowed heart, an unmarked envoy rode out under sigil-black banners... destination unknown.
But their letter carried a message:
> "The Empire is shifting. And the spark has awakened."