The man in black did not offer his name.
He straightened from his crouch and turned his back to Nyra as if she were already beneath notice. That, somehow, hurt more than the chains she could not see.
"Stand," he said.
The word was not a command—but her body obeyed anyway.
Nyra pushed herself off the cold stone floor, her limbs trembling. Every movement felt wrong, as though her senses had sharpened too quickly, cutting her from the inside. The chamber seemed thinner now, stripped of illusion. She noticed cracks in the walls she had missed before. Old blood beneath newer stains. The faint echo of screams soaked into the stone.
Truth clung to everything.
"You feel it," the man said without turning. "The weight."
Nyra swallowed. "I see too much."
"Good." He finally faced her. His eyes were dark, unreadable—and infuriatingly empty to her gift. "That means the Veil didn't fail completely."
She flinched. "You speak as if it made a mistake."
"Oh, it did." His lips curved faintly. "It just hasn't realized how badly yet."
He gestured toward the door. "Come. The others are waiting."
The others.
That word sent a chill down her spine.
They walked through corridors that spiraled deeper into the Hall of Binding. The air grew colder with each step, heavier, as if pressing against her lungs. Nyra focused on breathing. On putting one foot in front of the other. If she thought too hard, the truths pressed closer, whispering from every surface.
He is watching your posture.
He is measuring your fear.
He expects you to break—or sharpen.
She clenched her fists.
The corridor opened into a vast circular chamber lined with elevated seats. Figures sat there—some robed, some armored, some dressed plainly—but every single one of them felt wrong.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
Nyra didn't need her gift to know that.
At the center of the chamber stood a black stone pedestal etched with shifting symbols. The man in black stepped aside, forcing Nyra forward until she stood alone beneath the gaze of the council.
A woman spoke first. Her voice was calm, controlled, but Nyra felt the sharp edge beneath it.
"So this is her."
Nyra's head snapped up—and instantly regretted it.
Truth surged.
She saw the woman's history unfold in a brutal cascade: calculated sacrifices, quiet betrayals, a rise built on the erasure of rivals. Nyra gasped, staggering back as pain tore through her skull.
"Enough," the man in black said sharply.
The visions snapped shut.
Nyra dropped to one knee, panting.
The woman tilted her head. "Interesting. She reacts faster than projected."
"Because she isn't designed like the others," another voice said. Male. Older. Curious. "She's not a seeker."
A pause.
Then the same voice continued, quieter. "She's a mirror."
Nyra's blood ran cold.
The man in black turned to her. "Do you know what you are?"
She hesitated. The truth pressed against her tongue, demanding release.
"I am… a Mysterious Slave," she said finally.
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"Wrong," the man said. "That's your designation. Not your function."
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her own. "You are an asset. One we didn't plan for. One we don't fully control."
Nyra forced herself to meet his gaze. "Then why am I still alive?"
A thin smile. "Because killing you would be a waste."
The pedestal flared to life.
Symbols rose from its surface, forming a single sentence in the air—written in a language Nyra had never learned, yet understood instantly.
—TRUTH MUST BE TESTED—
Pain lanced through her head.
She screamed as the chamber dissolved around her.
Nyra stood in a marketplace.
The sudden shift nearly made her collapse. Noise crashed over her—voices, laughter, shouting, the clang of metal. Sunlight warmed her skin. The smell of spice and sweat filled her lungs.
Too real.
She knew at once this was not an illusion.
A trial.
People moved around her, unaware. Ordinary. Human. That terrified her more than monsters ever could.
A voice echoed—not in her head, but everywhere.
"Objective: Identify the lie."
Nyra's heart pounded.
Around her, truths whispered eagerly.
That merchant waters his wine.
That child stole bread this morning.
That woman is planning to poison her husband.
She staggered, clutching her head.
"I—I can't," she whispered.
The pain intensified.
She dropped to her knees as the Veil punished hesitation.
"Failure is noncompliance."
Nyra gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus.
A crowd had gathered near the well.
Two men were arguing violently.
"He cheated me!" one shouted. "The scale was rigged!"
"I swear by my blood, it wasn't!" the other yelled back.
The crowd buzzed with anger.
Nyra looked at them—and the world split open.
Truth flooded her senses.
The second man was lying.
But the first man wasn't innocent either.
He had tampered with the scale earlier, knowing the accusation would draw attention away from his own crime.
Both guilty.
Both lying.
Her chest tightened.
"Identify the lie," the voice demanded again.
Nyra opened her mouth—and froze.
Which truth did it want?
The one that caused chaos?
Or the one that spared lives?
She saw the possible futures branching before her.
If she spoke now, the crowd would turn violent. Blood would be spilled. Innocents trampled.
If she stayed silent, the Veil would punish her.
Her hands shook.
"Say it," she whispered to herself.
The truth clawed its way out.
"He lied," Nyra said hoarsely, pointing at the second man. "The scale was rigged."
The crowd erupted.
The accused man screamed in denial as fists struck him. Someone drew a blade.
Nyra screamed. "Stop! He wasn't the only one—"
Pain exploded behind her eyes.
"Excess disclosure denied."
She collapsed as agony tore through her skull.
Through blurred vision, she watched blood spill onto the ground.
The world shattered.
Nyra woke gasping, her body convulsing on cold stone.
She was back in the chamber.
Her throat burned from screaming.
The council watched her in silence.
The man in black knelt beside her. "Lesson one," he said softly. "Truth does not equal justice."
She shook, tears streaking her face. "You made me choose."
"Yes," he replied calmly. "That's what slaves are for."
He stood and addressed the council. "She passed."
Several figures shifted uneasily.
"She caused civilian casualties," one objected.
"And revealed controlled truth," another countered. "Efficient."
Nyra stared at them, horror settling deep in her chest.
She wasn't a person to them.
She was a tool.
The man in black turned back to her. "You'll have more trials. Harder ones."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping.
"And eventually, Nyra Vale… you'll stop asking whether it's right."
Her vision swam.
As guards approached, she felt something new stir beneath the pain.
Not fear.
Anger.
Cold. Focused. Dangerous.
As they dragged her away, a final truth surfaced unbidden—
One that froze her blood.
The man in black…
was lying.