Eryshae

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Vael

Vael's heart beat like thunder. Sam's fingers laced tighter around hers. The tide was turning. The Court stood not as fractured factions, but as one; silent, solemn, and ready to choose.

"The Cardinals will now proceed to vote," Elder Thornhollow announced, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. "Each shall write the name of their chosen candidate on parchment, fold it four times, and place it in the box. A candidate must reach fifty votes to ascend. Should no one reach a majority, the box shall be burned, and the smoke shall declare our indecision."

A low murmur passed like wind through trees, and then the first Cardinal stepped forward. One by one, the 98 Cardinals filed into line; their ceremonial robes rustling, faces guarded. Each was handed a slip of cream-colored parchment and a quill. At a small table before the ceremonial box, they bent, wrote, folded the vote four times, and slipped it into the lacquered blackwood chest carved with ancient runes of balance and truth.

Vael stood beside Sam, her hand still in his. She could feel the tension in him, hear the way his breath caught each time another Cardinal moved forward. "I've never been good at waiting," he murmured beside her. She squeezed his hand gently. "You're not waiting. You're becoming."

He glanced down at her, his eyes warm with something deeper than gratitude. When the last parchment was sealed away, Elder Thornhollow stepped forward again. "The vote is cast. We proceed to the count."

The Elders gathered at the great table, the blackwood box placed at its center. Each vote was unfolded and tallied aloud in solemn, ritualistic cadence. Vael's heartbeat thudded louder with each name spoken.

"Sam Faeloc… Serene Liri… Sam Faeloc… Kareth Voln… Sam Faeloc… Serene Liri…"

The names echoed off the chamber's stone walls, and still the votes continued. Vael's breath caught as Sam's name crept slightly ahead; only to be matched again by Water's poised Serene Liri.

When the final parchment was read and the numbers inscribed, Elder Cherry stepped forward and lifted the slip of black silk covering the hearth behind the dais. She held a single spark emberstone in her hand.

"No candidate has received fifty votes," she said, and with that, she dropped the ember into the ceremonial brazier. Flames roared; too quickly, too high. A great plume of black smoke surged from the chimney above the Court. Gasps echoed. Some wept in frustration, others clenched their jaws. Vael inhaled the scent of scorched parchment, felt Sam's hand tighten in hers.

"Inconclusive," Elder Thornhollow declared. "The Cardinals shall vote again. Until the smoke runs white, and the Court stands decided." Vael looked to Sam, his jaw set, his expression unreadable. Still, he stood tall. Still, he held her hand. The tide had not yet crested. But it was rising.

Vael stood close to Sam, the scent of scorched parchment still clinging to the air. The black smoke had dissipated, but the taste of failure lingered on every breath the Cardinals drew. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, tilting her face toward Sam's. Her voice, meant only for him, barely disturbed the solemn silence between voting rounds.

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes were on the Cardinals; specifically a small knot of them off to the side, speaking too quietly, glancing in too many directions. Their whispers were dust-soft, but Vael recognized strategy when she saw it. Deals being brokered. Favors, called in.

"They're shifting," Sam murmured, voice low. She followed his gaze to a narrow-faced woman from the Metal faction, Kareth Voln's second. She nodded sharply at two Cardinals from the Earth delegation, then whispered something into her sleeve as if sealing an oath. "They're realigning," Vael said under her breath. "Trying to consolidate behind Metal."

Sam turned back to her, a ghost of weariness in his eyes. "What if I'm not what they need?" Vael reached up and brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Then they'll realize too late what they lost." He caught her hand, kissed her palm. His bioluminescent glow pulsed faintly beneath her fingers. "You always say exactly the right thing."

"Not always," she admitted. "Just when it matters." A call rang out across the chamber; a single bell chime. The second vote would begin. Once more, the 98 Cardinals lined up, solemn as shades. Their faces were carved masks of neutrality, but the shift in energy was palpable. This time, the Metal faction exuded confidence, standing taller, backs straighter. Kareth Voln met Vael's eyes across the chamber and smiled; sharp and thin.

The parchment slips passed from hand to hand, votes penned, folded four times, placed in the box. This time, when Elder Thornhollow drew the first parchment, there was a charged silence.

"Kareth Voln."

Then:

"Serene Liri."

"Sam Faeloc."

"Kareth Voln."

"Kareth Voln."

The trend continued. Sam and Serene gained votes, but not quickly enough. Vael's stomach tightened. She held Sam's hand tighter.

"Kareth Voln… Sam Faeloc… Kareth Voln…"

When the final parchment was opened, Elder Cherry looked to Thornhollow with a subtle shake of her head. "No candidate has reached fifty," he said. "The votes fall short once more." Elder Cherry dropped another ember into the box, and again the parchment was consumed. Black smoke curled once more from the chimney above.

In a quiet alcove near the edge of the chamber, Vael and Sam stood close. He hadn't let go of her hand. From behind a tall curtain, Herbalist Myrtle emerged, robes rustling. She approached them, voice a breath near Vael's ear.

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"The results were inconclusive," Myrtle whispered. "But I suspect tampering. Subtle. Enough to confuse symptoms. But one thing is clear; neither Durnan nor Ruwan Eberflame poisoned you with the tea."

Sam bristled. His shoulders tensed, eyes narrowing. "Careful," Myrtle murmured, her hand brushing his sleeve. "Many eyes are watching. Let the truth do its work." Vael inhaled slowly, then gave a slight nod to Myrtle in gratitude. She turned to Kinan, her voice even and firm.

"Ruwan remains under suspicion. House arrest continues. But Durnan…" she paused, searching Sam's face, "Durnan Eberflame did not pour the tea. He was present, but not culpable. He may return to Court and resume his candidacy, as permitted by the Law."

Kinan bowed in acknowledgment and moved to carry out her order. Sam's expression was tight, but he gave her a nod, trusting her judgment. Her hand slipped back into his. Their enemies were still maneuvering; but so were they. "Whatever happens next," she said softly, "we do it together." He squeezed her hand in reply.

Halfway through the third vote, Durnan entered. The chamber turned subtly toward him, a ripple of attention moving like a shadow. Durnan carried himself with the same smoothed charm he always did, even after house arrest. His clothes were pristine, his composure unbroken. He began working the room, leaning in for murmured words, brushing hands with old allies, exchanging half-smiles with hesitant Cardinals.

Vael watched every move. Still, the vote continued. Once the final paper was counted and the totals revealed, a collective silence fell. No candidate had reached fifty.

Vael leaned toward Sam, voice soft but firm. "The fourth vote will be the last for today. If it's still inconclusive, we vote again tomorrow." The chamber buzzed with unease as the tension deepened. The power struggle was no longer just a matter of politics; it was war by subtler means.

A low chime rang once; then twice. Elder Thornhollow stepped forward, arms raised like a judge at the edge of judgment. "This shall be the fourth and final vote of the day," he announced, voice taut as a drawn wire. "Should the Court remain divided, deliberations will resume tomorrow under heavier scrutiny. Let it be known; any signs of tampering shall bear consequence. The integrity of this chamber will not be bartered like coin." A hushed murmur rippled across the Cardinals, no longer the soft wind of ceremony, but the hiss of a coming storm.

Vael felt it; the crumbling edges, the brittle fractures beneath noble masks. One Cardinal from the Water delegation; a young man with a silver curl at his temple; froze when handed his slip of parchment. He held it too long. His eyes darted between factions. When he moved to the writing table, his hand trembled. He paused, as if unsure whether to write at all.

Gasps rippled from the Earth side. A Cardinal from Water turned her back fully to the Metal faction. The alliances were unraveling. Sam stood stiffly beside Vael, but she could feel the war inside him. It pulsed through his grip on her hand. His knuckles were white. "What if I lose more than the vote?" he murmured, voice breaking low. "What if I lose them; the ones who trusted me to stand for something?"

Vael turned to him, full and unflinching. "Then the Court may forget you," she said softly. "But the people never will. You stood when others knelt. You listened when they spoke. You bled when it would've been easier to walk away." His eyes shimmered. Not tears; resolve, just barely holding.

"You're not their candidate, Sam. You're their leader. Even if they're too afraid to see it." A silence stretched between them, full of everything he couldn't say. Then came the bell. Sharp. Final.

The fourth vote began. The parchment passed down the rows again. The Cardinals rose one by one, their footfalls quieter now, heavier. The air buzzed like a wasp trapped in a jar.

Vael's sharp eyes caught it; a small deviation. One of the Cardinals from the Metal delegation, a man with a crescent-shaped scar at his brow, folded his parchment only three times. A subtle act. A code, perhaps. A signal.

She filed it away, saying nothing. But her blood ran colder. Votes were dropped into the box once more. Folded secrets, sealed hopes. The lacquered blackwood chest stood heavier than ever before, as if it knew.

Elder Cherry stepped forward. She opened the chest with care.

The count began.

"Kareth Voln."

"Serene Liri."

"Sam Faeloc."

"Sam Faeloc."

"Serene Liri."

"Serene Liri."

"Sam Faeloc."

"Kareth Voln."

"Sam Faeloc."

The cadence quickened. The numbers climbed. Sam and Serene pulled ahead; neck and neck. "Kareth Voln," said Elder Cherry, frowning slightly.

Confusion flickered. The final ten names seemed to stutter; Sam, Serene, Serene, Sam… then suddenly, two more votes for Serene. When the last vote was read, Elder Thornhollow reached for the tally slate.

He paused. A whisper passed between the Elders.Then Cherry stepped forward. "There appears to be a miscount," she said. "A duplicate was recorded under Faeloc. Correction applied."

The room stiffened. Vael's eyes narrowed. Whispers flared; too fast, too pointed. Metal faction was too still. Sam said nothing, but his jaw clenched. Then Elder Thornhollow lifted his hand, voice a gavel.

"The Court has reached its decision."

He turned toward the center of the dais, where the ceremonial lightstone glowed in wait. "With fifty votes," Thornhollow said, each word iron-forged and undeniable,

"the Court elects Serene Liri to ascend to the 99th Cardinal."

The chamber erupted; not in cheers, but in gasps. Some clapped, slow and careful. Others simply sat in stunned silence. Vael didn't move. Sam didn't breathe.

Serene stood, pristine in her flowing silks, and bowed her head with the elegance of a blade just before the strike. Her smile was small. Controlled. But her eyes found Sam across the chamber, and there was something hard behind them. Something triumphant.

Vael's hand found his again, fingers threading through his like roots bracing against flood. Sam swallowed. "I lost, I didn't expect to win, but I was hoping," he said quietly. "No," Vael whispered back, voice fierce and unyielding.

The chamber stirred like a creature roused too soon. The ninety-eight Cardinals rose in waves, robes rustling like dead leaves, and began to usher Serene Liri toward the gilded arch at the back of the hall; a door rarely opened, leading to the Sanctum of Cardinals. A space for private rites, blessings, and political consolidation, beneath layers of polished tradition.

One by one, the Cardinals moved in behind her. Some bowed. Others kissed her ring. A few offered hushed congratulations while glancing nervously back toward Sam. She took each with graceful nods, her face a mask of diplomacy, but her walk; her walk was that of someone who had taken the blade and turned it clean through the heart.

Then she was gone behind the carved double doors, and the Court fell into a slow exhale. Sam remained where he stood. Motionless. Hollow. The roar of blood in his ears had gone quiet. Too quiet. Vael stepped beside him, her presence anchoring. "She didn't win," Sam said, voice low, bitter around the edges. "They just… gave it to her."

Vael didn't answer right away. She waited until the last of the Cardinals disappeared through the arch, until the ceremonial lights began to dim, shadows stretching like regrets across the marble floor.

Then she turned to him fully, and gently placed her hand on his chest. "Maybe they did," she said softly. "But the people saw you fight for them anyway. Without coin. Without bloodline. Just truth."

He met her gaze. Wounded, yes; but the fire hadn't left him. It smoldered beneath the sorrow. "What if the truth isn't enough?" he asked. Vael smiled; not gently this time, but like the first glint of a blade being unsheathed.

"Then we give them something more to believe in." Sam looked down at her, and something in his expression shifted. Not hope, not yet. But resolve, honed sharper by pain. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her cheek; quiet, reverent. Then, without a word, he lifted both their hands high. The silver of their rings met, catching the last glimmer of ceremonial light. Two points of promise. Two unbroken circles. Not crowned. Not chosen. But still; standing. And in the silent chamber, beneath stone arches and vanished cheers, that meant everything.