I felt a flicker of instinctive tension, though it did not grip me as it once might have. “Have I offended someone new?”
“No,” she replied, her tone turning solemn. “You have done precisely the opposite. Only a moon cycle in Umbral, and our people are smitten.”
We walked side by side toward the heart of authority.
Nearly a complete moon cycle since I had officially called Umbral my home.
The ache of missing my family had dulled, but it had not vanished. It visited in quieter moments, in the hush before sleep or in the echo of laughter that reminded me of home. I still wondered whether my mother looked toward the river at dusk.
Talon had kept his promise. A small garden now flourished near the outer gate closest to the river bridge, enclosed by low stone walls and warmed by carefully placed lanterns. A place where, should my family ever find courage to cross, they would not feel swallowed by the vastness of Umbral.
They had not come.
I did not resent them for it. But I hoped.
The corridors did not lead us toward the familiar council chamber. Instead, Eladaria guided me past it. Past the curved halls I had come to know. Past the open balconies where silver lanterns burned through dusk, until we reached the base of the Obsidian Tower.
I had seen it countless times from below, but I had never stood at its threshold. No Veythar entered the spire unless summoned.
The staircase wound tight within the tower’s core, spiraling upward without railing or adornment. The walls were polished obsidian, so smooth they reflected faint distortions of our movement as we climbed. Each step echoed softly, swallowed quickly by the thickness of the stone.
As though the higher we rose, the hum strengthened.
It pulsed beneath my skin like a second heartbeat, deep and resonant. I could feel the Umbral’s core beneath us, the sourceof the shadows that ran through every Veythar vein, responding to my presence in a way that made my pulse steady rather than race.
When at last the staircase ended, the space opened abruptly.
The anointment chamber was vast but stark, carved entirely from obsidian that absorbed nearly all light. There were no banners. No jewels. No gilded carvings.
It was the stark antithesis of the Great Hall of Lumina; where Haelen used gold to hide its rot, Umbral used silence to honor its strength.
At the chamber’s center rose a circular dais carved from the same dark stone, though it shimmered faintly from within, a muted blue glow pulsing beneath its surface like trapped starlight. The light cast subtle reflections along the walls, enough to illuminate the figures gathered around its perimeter.
Their silhouettes were taller and more defined than most Veythar below, their eyes glowing faintly in hues of silver and pale blue. They stood in silence, hands folded before them, their presence silent without being oppressive.
And at the center of the dais stood Talon.
He wore black, as always, but there was something ceremonial in the cut of his attire, in the subtle sheen along the fabric that caught the light. His gaze found mine the instant I entered.
Pride flickered there.
“You have never been here,” a voice whispered near my ear.
I startled only slightly before turning to see Bater step from the shadows at the chamber’s edge, his grin already in place.
He wore formal attire in his own fashion, dark leathers polished to a faint sheen, silver clasps catching the blue glow from the dais. His hair had been pushed back rather than left to fall into his eyes, though a few strands had already escaped the effort.
“They do not let just anyone up here,” he added lightly. “I had to charm three elders and threaten to sing.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, a quiet laugh slipped from me.
“I did not realize that was a threat.”
“It absolutely is,” he said with mock offense. “My voice is tragic.”
Eladaria cast him a pointed glance, though there was no real reprimand in it.
“Compose yourself,” she muttered.