The palace was quieter at night than it had ever been.
Seraphina could hear the soft rhythm of the guards' boots echoing far down the corridors, the rustle of silk banners in the faint breeze, the creak of wood settling. Beneath it all, the faint hum of her power whispered like breath.
She sat before her mirror, the same one that had once reflected a frightened girl the night before her death. Now, that girl was gone. Her reflection stared back at her with steady eyes and hair that shimmered faintly in the lamplight.
She removed her gloves. The mark on her palm glowed faintly, like an ember that refused to die.
The relic's reaction still replayed in her mind, the shock on the priests' faces, Lucien's unflinching gaze, Adrian's hesitation. The silver light. The frost creeping outward like living veins.
"Judgment," she whispered. "Not blessing."
The words tasted strange. Powerful.
She reached out and touched the surface of the mirror. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the glass rippled. Frost bloomed outward from her fingertips, spiraling across the surface until her reflection fractured into a thousand shards of silver light.
Her breath caught.
Within the broken surface, she saw flashes, not her room, but something else. A figure standing in the dark, robed and still. The faint sound of chanting. A voice, deep and echoing, not quite human.
Equinox watches.
Seraphina jerked her hand back. The mirror stilled. The frost faded, leaving only her reflection again, pale, breathless, alive.
A soft knock came at her door.
She hesitated. Then, "Enter."
Elias slipped inside, closing the door behind him. His coat was dusted with parchment fibers, and a faint ink stain marked his wrist. "You didn't come to the library," he said quietly. "I thought you would."
"I didn't want to be seen."
"Half the court is asleep. The other half is pretending to be," he said, moving closer. "I found something you need to see."
He laid a worn book on her desk, its binding cracked and its pages brittle. The title was faded, but she could make out a single word: Equinox.
She looked up sharply. "How?"
"It was hidden in the chapel archives," Elias said. "The priests don't read what they fear."
He opened it to a page marked by a strip of pale cloth. The ink was faint, written in the old language. He traced a line with his finger.
"'The goddess of balance does not give blessings. She restores them,'" he translated softly. "'When the world weighs too far toward cruelty, she chooses a vessel to correct it. Her vessel bears the mark of frost and fire. Both destroy. Both cleanse.'"
Seraphina stared at the words. "Frost and fire," she repeated. "The relic turned cold, but my hand burned."
Elias nodded slowly. "It means you carry both forces. One judges the body. The other judges the soul."
She closed her eyes. "Lucien called me a vessel. He knew."
"He suspects," Elias said. "But he doesn't know what kind. If he did, he wouldn't have let you walk out alive."
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "So I'm to be the Church's secret, not its threat."
"Not if you move first."
She looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
He lowered his voice. "The Inquisition brought a reliquary, an artifact that detects divine energy. It's kept in the chapel vault, sealed under sigil lock. If you can influence it, even slightly, you can alter what it reads."
Her pulse quickened. "You want me to tamper with their relic."
"I want you to survive," Elias said evenly. "If it registers something harmless, they'll look elsewhere. But if you wait, Lucien will force you to touch it again in public. You saw what happened today."
Seraphina looked down at her hand. The mark shimmered faintly under her skin. "If I fail, he'll know."
"Then don't fail."
His calmness might have sounded cruel if not for the flicker of worry behind his eyes.
She stood, smoothing her cloak. "Show me the way."
******************************
They moved through the palace quietly, their footsteps muffled by marble and moonlight. Elias carried a single candle, its flame small and steady. The corridors grew narrower as they descended, the air colder.
The chapel vault lay behind a heavy oak door carved with the symbols of the Seven Saints. Two guards stood outside, their heads bowed in half-sleep.
Elias glanced at Seraphina. "Stay here."
Before she could answer, he stepped into the light. "Gentlemen," he said casually, holding up a sealed scroll. "By order of the royal archivist, I'm to confirm the cataloging of the Inquisition's relics. Simple verification."
The older guard frowned. "At this hour?"
"The Inquisitor requested it himself," Elias said smoothly. "He wants every record in order before morning."
The guards exchanged uncertain looks. After a long pause, one sighed. "Make it quick."
Elias inclined his head, stepping inside. Seraphina followed silently, her cloak whispering behind her.
The vault was small and dimly lit, the air thick with incense. Shelves of glass relics glowed faintly with inner light. At the center stood a stone pedestal, and upon it, a crystal sphere no larger than her hand. Silver mist swirled within it, slow and hypnotic.
"The reliquary," Elias murmured. "The Church believes it's alive."
Seraphina approached slowly. The air around it was freezing, biting at her skin. Her mark burned in response, sharp and eager.
"What do I do?" she whispered.
"Touch it," he said. "And think of something pure. Something that can't be corrupted."
She hesitated, then placed her hand on the sphere.
The cold hit instantly. Light burst beneath her palm, silver and white, curling like smoke. She tried to think of calm, of warmth, of balance, but what came instead was memory.
Her sister's laughter at the banquet. Adrian's voice ordering her arrest. The dungeon smoke filling her lungs.
The sphere shuddered. The mist inside turned dark.
"Seraphina," Elias hissed. "Focus!"
She gritted her teeth. Her heart hammered. Then she thought of something else, the moment Cale had said, You shouldn't have to face it alone.
Warmth bloomed in her chest. The light shifted again, fading from silver to soft gold.
The reliquary stilled.
Elias stared. "You did it."
She removed her hand, breathless. Frost rimed the edges of the pedestal but melted within seconds.
He exhaled. "You changed its reading. It will register as harmless now."
Seraphina looked down at her palm. The mark had dimmed, but a faint ring of gold light now surrounded it. "Frost and fire," she murmured. "Judgment and mercy."
Elias studied her for a moment. "You realize what this means?"
She nodded slowly. "If Equinox truly restores balance, then mercy is part of her judgment."
"And you?" he asked. "Which part are you?"
She looked toward the reliquary, its light flickering softly in the stillness. "I suppose that depends on who stands before me."
A distant sound echoed down the hall. Footsteps. Voices.
Elias blew out the candle. "We need to go."
They slipped from the vault just as the guards stirred. One turned, frowning at the faint trace of frost still clinging to the floor, but said nothing.
Back in her chambers, Seraphina stood by the window, the night wind brushing her face. The mark on her palm pulsed faintly, both warm and cold.
"You shouldn't have to face it alone," she whispered to herself, echoing Cale's words.
In the garden below, the frozen fountain gleamed faintly under the moonlight, as though listening.
Far away, the Inquisitor knelt before the chapel altar, his hand resting on the very relic she had touched. The sphere glowed gold.
Lucien's lips curved. "So the frost learns to wear warmth," he murmured. "Let us see how long she can keep it."
He extinguished the candles one by one until only darkness remained.