Velara sat upon the steps of the coliseum, seated among the lower tiers beneath the royal dais where the king and queen presided. Her eyes were fixed on the fractures belonging to the three young Trame Bearers — the very same ones she had trained only the day before. Usually light in temperament, almost mocking, Velara now wore an expression of unusual gravity. She studied the fractures with such intensity that one might have believed she could see through them, all the way to the very core of their essence.

  Around one of the fractures, dozens of Revealed stood in formation, weapons drawn. The Elan pouring from it was colossal. The fracture had tripled in size within a few hours. It was this one that Velara watched, impassive yet taut as a drawn bow.

  “What are you doing now…?” she murmured to herself.

  She rose, climbed a few steps, and knelt respectfully before the royal seats. The king gestured for her to stand with a motion that was both casual and dignified. His gaze was noble, straight, almost piercing. The queen, meanwhile, did not take her eyes off her daughter’s fracture, which remained perfectly stable — almost peaceful.

  “Your Majesty,” Velara said, “I doubt the presence of the Revealed holds any real value here. If Kael fails his Trial, whatever emerges from that fracture will only be stoppable by Primants… and even then, I am not certain it would suffice.”

  She turned back toward the fracture. The Elan pulsed through it like a beating heart, sending waves of pressure throughout the coliseum. All the Latents had already been evacuated. None of them could withstand such intensity.

  The queen spoke, her voice sharp and imperious:

  “That is precisely why you are here, Velara. To answer for situations such as this. If an Overdrawn emerges from that fracture, you are to strike it down immediately.”

  Velara hesitated. One heartbeat too long.

  “Your Majesty… I am not certain that I would be able to…”

  The queen cut her off, venomous:

  “Not certain of what, pray tell? That you would be incapable of killing an Overdrawn to protect your king? You are the princess’s personal guard — and therefore bound to my command. You will do as you are commanded.”

  The king rose abruptly. The queen turned toward him, startled.

  He descended the steps calmly toward the fracture. With a brief sideways glance, he signaled for Velara to follow.

  “Come with me,” he said simply.

  “My husband, where are you going?” the queen asked coldly.

  The king did not bother to respond. He continued his descent, impassive, and Velara followed in silence, her gaze troubled and her thoughts alert.

  They approached the fracture.

  Velara’s inky cloak snapped violently in the wind, lashed by the titanic pressure radiating from the opening. She glanced briefly down at the fabric and inwardly regretted seeing it mistreated. It was only a garment — but she cared for it.

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  The king, however, remained motionless. No tremor betrayed his thoughts. He observed the fracture with a frozen intensity, almost supernatural.

  “Who is this boy?” he asked suddenly.

  Velara, her eyes still fixed on the fracture, replied calmly:

  “He is an Ombrevu, Your Majesty.”

  “I am well aware of that,” the king cut in sharply. “What I wish to know… is who he truly is. You have spent more time with him than anyone. You know him. So I ask you again: who is he?”

  He turned his head toward her. His gaze, sharp as a blade, drove into hers.

  Velara met the intensity without flinching. Then she smiled gently, almost wistfully.

  “That Ombrevu… is the most brilliant boy I have ever had the privilege of training.”

  The king remained silent for a few seconds.

  “And my daughter?” he asked at last.

  Velara exhaled with a sincere smile.

  “Your daughter is brilliant as well. She has changed greatly these past weeks. That is largely because of him.”

  The king returned his attention to the fracture.

  “Then tell me… what does he possess that she does not, for you to judge him superior?”

  Velara lowered her gaze slightly, as though searching through her thoughts.

  “How can I explain…”

  She paused, then continued.

  “Let us imagine I give them a simple exercise: a basic movement in swordsmanship. A single gesture to reproduce.”

  “The princess will repeat it until it is perfect. She will engrave it into her muscle memory. She will make it her own — through strength, through discipline.”

  She lifted her eyes toward the fracture, as though the image were forming before her.

  “Kael, however… will not repeat it.”

  She let the words settle.

  “He will dismantle it. He will seek to understand its construction. He will trace it back to the founding idea of the movement, to its hidden logic. He will think and think until he understands why the movement exists.”

  She turned slightly toward the king.

  “And once he understands it… he will not execute it to perfection. But he will know exactly when and why to use it. His gesture may not be as pure as the princess’s… but he will know.”

  The king watched Velara with a strange intensity.

  Then he turned once more toward the fracture, as though absorbed by its flickering light.

  “ Had someone told me, once that my daughter would be compared to an Ombrevu… I would likely have had them executed,” he said slowly.

  He cast a glance at Velara. She understood immediately the hidden meaning of his words. To compare the princess to an Ombrevu — and worse, to judge the Ombrevu superior — was a grave offense. One that only Velara Aeternis could commit without paying the price.

  The king continued, his voice lower:

  “I spoke with my daughter just before the Trial began. I threatened her… openly. I told her that if she continued her interactions with the Ombrevu, I would kill him.”

  He paused.

  “What a disgrace… to be forced to remind my own daughter of the difference between them and us…”

  His jaw tightened; his teeth ground together. Velara thought she glimpsed a vein throbbing at his temple. He went on:

  “And do you know what she did?”

  Velara shook her head slowly.

  The king lowered his gaze slightly, his tone laced with cold anger:

  “She defied me. Me. Her father. The king. She looked me straight in the eye… and told me not to even dare lay a hand on him.”

  Velara sighed, pressing two fingers to her forehead, an amused smile curving her lips.

  “I have already told her that such attachments are inappropriate for the princess of the realm. But believe me, Your Majesty… that little one pays no mind to what I tell her.”

  The king turned once more toward the fracture. His expression had hardened; his gaze distant, as though lost within an abyss only he could comprehend.

  “I am well aware of the nature of the feelings she harbors for that…”

  He faltered. The word seemed to scorch his throat.

  “…for that creature.”

  His fists clenched. His voice dropped to a low, rumbling whisper.

  “What dishonor…”

  Then he turned sharply.

  “If this Ombrevu emerges alive from his Trial… bring him to me at once.”

  Velara inclined her head slightly.

  “Believe me, Your Majesty… That boy is a cockroach. He will never die.”

  The king walked away without another word.

  Left alone, Velara turned her attention back to the fracture.

  She smiled. A real smile. Almost affectionate.

  “You’d better come out of there. You owe me that much…”

  The fracture pulsed softly.

  As though answering her challenge.