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Chapter 47 – The Court of Ash and Echo
The sentinels led them in silence.
Their armor made no sound, though it shimmered with runes older than language. Celeste followed, her body still thrumming with the pulse of the Heart of Elarion sealed within her. Every footstep was heavier now—not with fatigue, but meaning. The vault had not merely awakened ancient truths; it had chosen her. And the world above would have to answer to that.
Kairo walked beside her, expression locked, unreadable. But she could feel his tension—like a coiled wire beneath skin. He wasn't afraid of the court. He was afraid of what would happen after.
The ascent was steeper now. Cold wind began threading in from narrow passageways, and the light grew clearer, brighter, harsher. The world of secrets was giving way to the world of spectacle.
Celeste glanced at him. "Do you trust them? The court?"
"I don't trust anyone who claps louder for blood than for truth," he said. "But today, they will see what they've tried to forget."
They emerged from the last stairwell behind the Citadel's central dais—a hidden entrance once used by ancient monarchs in times of war or exile. And now, after so many lifetimes, it opened again.
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The High Court was in chaos.
The Queen Dowager sat at the head of the stone crescent, her fingers tense around the arms of her throne. Verrian paced before the gathered nobles, casting fire and fear from his silver tongue.
"The Hollow has been breached," he declared. "A dormant vault of catastrophic potential has been opened—by them. And if we allow it to remain unchecked, everything this realm stands on will crumble."
Murmurs rose. The nobles were split—some filled with panic, others wide-eyed with curiosity.
Elira stood at the edge of the chamber, arms crossed, her mind racing. Her heartbeat hadn't slowed since the rumors had broken that morning. Celeste. Kairo. The Hollow. Somehow, they were all pieces of the same puzzle—and now the court stood inches from the truth, and feet from danger.
Lord Verrian raised his voice. "We must invoke the Rite of Silence. Seal the Hollow. Detain Kairo Voltteri and the girl."
The Queen Dowager remained silent.
And then—before Verrian could speak again—a door opened behind the dais.
All turned.
And the air changed.
Kairo entered first, flanked by the sentinels of the Hollow. Their silvered forms moved like a ghost army. Celeste followed him. She did not cower. Her head was high, her posture that of someone who belonged. Her cloak had fallen open, revealing the glowing runes still etched along her skin—alive, humming, pulsing with residual light.
A collective gasp swept through the court. Even Verrian froze, his mouth parted.
The Queen Dowager rose slowly. "Kairo Voltteri... what have you done?"
He didn't bow. Didn't kneel. "I've brought you the truth."
Verrian surged forward. "She's a threat. A cursed relic. You don't know what you've unleashed!"
Kairo's eyes narrowed. "She's the memory you tried to bury."
Celeste stepped forward. The chamber flickered slightly, like candlelight under wind.
She spoke, her voice low but piercing. "My name is Celeste Elowen Serastra. I am the last living heir of the House of Lightmoor. The vault opened because it remembered me."
Silence crashed through the room like thunder.
One of the older nobles, Lord Tharen, stood unsteadily. "The House of Lightmoor was extinguished before the Sundering. That line is legend—myth."
Celeste met his eyes. "Then I'm the myth made flesh. The girl your ancestors swore to kill. The child the Nightborn failed to erase."
She held up her hand.
The runes on her palm glowed.
The sentinels knelt.
The court nearly erupted—but the Queen Dowager raised her hand, demanding silence.
Her eyes didn't leave Celeste. "If this is true… then your bloodline predates the current thrones. You could claim dominion over half the realm."
"I don't want your throne," Celeste said. "I want the truth restored. The records unsealed. And the war that began in shadow to end in light."
Verrian laughed bitterly. "How poetic."
Kairo turned to him. "You fear her because her existence strips you of your manufactured power."
"She is unstable—dangerous!" Verrian roared.
"She is chosen," Kairo answered calmly.
A pulse of energy radiated outward from Celeste's body. Several nobles stumbled back. The runes burned brighter now—responding to her will. Not rage. Not vengeance. But control.
The Queen Dowager studied her for a long, breathless moment. "Then prove your restraint, Lady Serastra. Let us see if memory can also wield mercy."
Celeste tilted her head. "Mercy is a choice."
And she turned to Verrian.
He went still. His face paled.
She approached him, step by deliberate step.
"You hunted children," she said. "You silenced scholars. You buried the Hollow. You fed this realm lies for decades. And now… you're afraid of your own history."
She stopped just in front of him. Her fingers curled at her sides. For a moment, the runes surged again—just enough to make Verrian flinch.
But she didn't strike.
She turned away.
"I'll fight the war you started," she said, voice echoing across stone, "but I won't do it your way."
And with that, Celeste returned to Kairo's side.
The Queen Dowager sat again, eyes narrowed in thought. "Very well. The council shall convene at dusk to decide the next steps."
But everyone in that chamber already knew.
The old game was over.
A new power had returned.
And it bore the name they'd tried so hard to forget.
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