Chapter 42 — When the Sky Refuses to Hold
The Conclave opened beneath a sky that could not decide whether to storm or clear.
Gray clouds churned above Blackspire, heavy and restless, as if the heavens themselves sensed the weight of what was about to unfold. The city had never seen crowds like this not for coronations, not for executions, not even for the fall of the old Conclave.
People came from every corner of the realm.
Farmers with dust still clinging to their boots. Merchants who had shuttered shops and abandoned caravans. Scholars clutching worn notebooks. Soldiers without banners. Mothers with children perched on their shoulders, eyes wide with fear and hope tangled together.
They gathered in the great amphitheater carved into the stone below the citadel, a place once meant for triumphal proclamations. Today, it was a court without walls.
And at its center stood Elowen.
She wore no crown.
