The Severed Seat

They climbed the tower just after first light.

Keiran, Merin, Lys, and Elah. Together again. Though none of them truly the same.

The Citadel of Concordium felt warmer than it had in years.

Not because the hearths were lit.

But because the flames remembered their names.

Every step toward the council chamber made Lys more silent.

Her gait was steady.

Her pulse—if Keiran was close enough to feel it—never faltered.

But her eyes…

They kept drifting to the runes along the wall.

Runes she'd carved herself—

then sealed.

Then forgotten.

Until now.

At the chamber doors, two Sentinels stood in ceremonial armor.

They bowed.

Not out of duty.

Out of recognition.

No one asked for proof.

No one needed to.

The Seventh Flame still burned above the Concordium.

Silver. Quiet. Absolute.

The council was already assembled.

Six of the seven seats filled.

The central dais glowed faintly under the Lightglyph—reflecting each seated figure's mark, casting it skyward for all the Concordium to witness.

But the Seventh Seat…

It was not empty.

Keiran's breath caught.

Because someone sat there.

Wrapped in black.

Face veiled in gauze and ash.

An insignia stitched in gold across their collar:

A spiraled sun, cracked down the middle.

The sigil of the Pale Priests.

Gasps rose across the room.

Even the Concordium Elders looked unprepared.

But the veiled figure simply sat still—composed. Calm.

Lys walked forward, her voice steady:

"That seat is mine."

The veiled figure tilted their head.

A woman's voice answered.

Familiar.

Cool. Educated. Woven with something ancient.

"It was yours, Lysandria Valemir."

"But in your absence, you were declared lost. Your oaths void."

"As dictated by the Severance Concord."

Lys stopped at the base of the dais.

"You quote rules made from blood."

"I wrote half of them. I know their weakness."

The veiled woman rose.

Her hand lifted.

And her veil—slowly—fell.

Keiran's heart stopped.

Because beneath the ash and gauze—

Stood a woman not much older than Lys.

Same chin. Same brow.

The same eyes.

Only colder. Sharper.

And filled with something far worse than hatred.

Belief.

Lys whispered—

"Calia."

The chamber went dead silent.

Merin's lips parted in disbelief.

"Calia Valemir died in the Severance."

"She was sealed."

Lys shook her head.

"No."

"She was taken."

Calia stepped down from the dais.

"I wasn't taken."

"I chose."

"The world needed order. The Pale Priests offered it."

"And you? You wanted to give memory to everyone. Even the cursed. Even the broken."

"You would have drowned us in sorrow."

Lys stared at her.

"So you silenced us instead."

"You let them burn names."

Calia did not flinch.

"They burned corruption."

"Erased infection."

"I saved you by letting you fall."

Lys's hands curled into fists.

The Seventh Flame overhead wavered.

Keiran stepped forward, unsure of what he'd say.

But Elah beat him to it.

The small girl walked calmly to the center of the chamber.

She looked up at Calia—

And said nothing.

Only unwrapped the ribbon from her wrist.

Held it up.

Lys's name.

Stitched. Faded. Whole.

Unforgotten.

Calia's expression cracked.

For just a moment.

Then she turned away.

"The Concordium will vote," she said.

"It is not for you to reclaim what you abandoned."

Lys's voice rose—not loud. But clear.

"I did not abandon."

"I was erased."

"But I endured. And now I remember."

"You may wear my name's seat—but the flame knows the truth."

As if summoned, the silver fire above the dais split.

One beam fell on Lys.

The other… flickered.

Then pulled away from Calia's position.

Leaving her in darkness.

No fire.

No tether.

Gasps echoed.

The High Elder—silent until now—stood and spoke:

"The flame chooses. The flame remembers."

He turned toward Lys.

"Seventh Seat. If you are ready to reclaim your place, the council stands to witness it."

Calia's jaw clenched.

But she said nothing.

Only stepped aside, veil half-raised once more.

Before leaving, she paused by Keiran.

And whispered:

"You carry more than her name."

"You carry a secret even she never knew."

"When you remember it… you'll wish you hadn't."

Then she vanished into shadow.

Lys ascended the dais.

The Seventh Seat welcomed her.

The silver flame burned high above.

And the Concordium—at last—was whole.

But not at peace.

Because war had returned with her.

Only now… it would burn in names remembered.

Not forgotten.