The morning air tasted like iron.
Far above us, the bells of the Royal Amphitheater began to toll, their slow, echoing chime spreading across the courtyard like a ripple through glass. It should have been a call to gather, to prepare—but it felt like a funeral march. A warning dressed in silk.
I walked beside Leander, my footsteps a heartbeat behind his. Neither of us spoke. Silence had become our language since yesterday—since the portal, the trial, the truth.
I was the key.
But keys didn't just unlock—they could destroy. They could release things meant to be forgotten.
We stopped beneath the great archway leading into the amphitheater. Morning sunlight pooled against the stone, but it couldn't penetrate the shadows that clung there. Waiting for us, arms folded and eyes unreadable, stood the new master of trials: Inquisitor Thalen.
Where Ronan had been a storm—volatile, brimming with barely contained passion—Thalen was ice. Pale robes, eyes the color of frostbitten steel, and a voice that never rose above a whisper but still managed to silence a room.
"You're late," he said without looking at me, though the sharp pause afterward was meant for me alone. "Has the gate changed you?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. There were too many truths behind my lips now, and they all tasted like blood and ash.
He studied me for one heartbeat longer, then turned. "Follow."
We entered the amphitheater.
It had transformed.
Where once there had been soft lanterns, glowing in gold and rose hues, now pale blue light dripped from unseen sources. The torches flickered with silver fire. The stage shimmered with a sheen like moonlit water, but the magic in the air felt cold—too still. Like breath held before a scream.
Queen Aria's throne loomed at the far end of the hall, cloaked still in its gossamer veils, though the air around it hummed with restrained power.
It no longer felt like a seat of judgment. It felt like a secret. A heartbeat. A home I had been stolen from.
And in front of the stage stood Seraphina.
She wore violet spun from dusk and shadows, a crown of midnight thorns nestled in her hair. When her eyes met mine, something inside me recoiled.
She smiled—barely. "So the orphan returns. Shall we see if the kingdom remembers your name?"
Thalen raised a hand.
"The next trial," he said, voice barely above a breath, yet it carried like thunder, "is called A Voice for the Kingdom."
Murmurs rippled through the contestants.
"This is no duet. No performance. No pageantry. This is communion. Each of you will sing—not to the judges, nor to the court—but to the soul of Aeloria itself."
My breath caught.
"To sing to the kingdom," he continued, "is to offer your truth. If the kingdom finds it wanting… it will answer in kind. Rejection, when sung, can be a cruel, violent thing."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Leander turned slightly toward me. His hand brushed mine—deliberate, grounding.
"They'll hear you," he murmured, so low no one else could catch it. "Not because you're chosen, but because you're true."
One by one, the contestants were called.
I watched as voices filled the air, each song shimmering with raw magic. One girl sang of loyalty—her voice rang clear, but the stage answered with silence. Another wept through her notes, and though her melody cracked, the earth beneath her glowed soft with acceptance.
Then came the breaking.
A boy—brilliant, confident—strode onto the stage. His voice soared, dazzling and precise. But halfway through, the air turned sharp. His song twisted on itself. A scream split the melody. He fell to his knees, gasping as shadow laced up his throat, silencing him.
He was carried away.
The silence afterward was colder than the wind.
And then—
"Lyra."
My name rang like prophecy.
I stood.
Each step to the center of the stage felt like stepping into another life. I could feel them all watching—Leander, Thalen, Seraphina. But it was the throne I felt most.
It knew me.
The floor beneath my boots hummed with energy—warm, ancient. The moment I reached the center, threads of gold and silver light spiraled up around me like vines, wrapping the stage in quiet expectancy.
And I sang.
Not the lullaby. Not the song from the Lyricarium. Something deeper.
It came from somewhere behind my ribs, from the memory of snow on my skin and a lullaby hummed through sobs. I sang of loss—of being forgotten, of being shaped by silence. I sang of firelight glimpsed through frost. Of a voice stolen, then found again in the dark.
My throat burned. My eyes blurred.
And still, I sang.
The ground beneath me pulsed. Light spilled outward, filling the amphitheater in radiant waves. It was like the kingdom was breathing with me—aching with me.
And then—
The veils over Queen Aria's throne tore as if ripped by an unseen wind.
Beneath them, the crystal pulsed, brighter than the sun.
The voice—no, not a voice. A declaration—rang across the chamber.
"Daughter."
Gasps erupted like thunder.
Seraphina staggered back, her violet eyes wide with something close to fear. Her grip tightened around her sleeve, nails biting into satin.
Thalen's head snapped toward the throne. His mouth parted—silent for once, truly silenced.
Some contestants bowed their heads. Others stared at me like I'd become something more—and less—than human.
And Leander—he didn't move. He just watched me like he was witnessing something sacred. Something inevitable.
I stood there, breathless, shaking, the word still ringing in my bones.
Daughter.
The kingdom remembered.
And now… so did I.
A low hum filled the space, not just sound—but power. The crystal throne flared one last time, then dimmed, veils settling like feathers around it once more. But the truth had already been spoken.
I turned to step off the stage—and stumbled.
Leander caught me.
He wrapped his arms around me and didn't let go. Not as I trembled. Not as I tried to catch my breath. Not as Seraphina turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows, her fury a tangible thing in her wake.
"You're not just chosen," Leander whispered against my temple. "You are Aeloria."
I nodded, unable to speak.
Something in me had broken open—and inside it, I'd found not just my voice…
…but my place.
---
The chamber did not return to silence.
It couldn't.
The word still echoed in the air—Daughter—as if the very stones of the amphitheater were reluctant to let it go. As if the kingdom itself had taken a breath after centuries and refused to exhale.
Leander's arms remained around me as I trembled, my knees nearly buckling under the weight of what had just happened. My voice—my song—had unlocked something ancient. And terrifying.
Not applause. Not praise. A name.
A claim.
The queen's throne had spoken.
I had been named by Aeloria itself.
But then came the shift.
The air tightened—subtle at first, like the pressure before a storm. Lights flickered. The amphitheater's torches sputtered and danced, shadows writhing unnaturally along the stone walls.
I tore myself from Leander's embrace, chest heaving. "Do you feel that?"
He nodded once, eyes sharp. "The kingdom is listening. Still."
And then—I heard it.
A hum, like the vibration of a string plucked too hard. Not from the stage… but beneath it. Below.
"Lyra," Thalen said suddenly. His voice was no longer calm. It cracked with urgency. "Get away from the platform."
But it was too late.
The stage groaned.
A sharp crack split the air, and the center of the performance hall shuddered as veins of gold light fractured the marble. A circle carved itself beneath my feet, symbols spiraling outward in burning script.
And then—
Three voices.
One after another. Soft. Familiar.
"Lyra…"
"Elira?" My breath caught.
"Help me…"
"Lysandra—!"
"Why… why did you leave me?"
Ronan.
My knees hit the stage as the voices rose around me—ghostly, distant, but real. Leander dropped beside me, shielding me with his body as the light flared in bursts of desperate magic.
The vanished ones. The ones who had disappeared into silence.
They were calling out.
From beneath the stage.
"No," I whispered. "They're not gone. They were taken."
The audience had broken into chaos, but the sound barely touched me. Seraphina stood frozen at the far end of the amphitheater, staring at the glowing circle with a look that could only be described as dread. Not fear—recognition.
She knew.
Leander gripped my shoulder. "You heard them too?"
I nodded. "Elira. Lysandra. Ronan. They're alive—or their magic is. They're trapped somewhere… somewhere under this hall."
"Or inside it," he said darkly.
The golden light began to dim, the circle fading slowly back into the marble as if it had never been. But something had cracked. Something had shown itself.
Thalen stormed down the steps toward us, his face grim. "This was not supposed to happen. This trial was not meant to—"
"You lied," I snapped. My voice didn't echo with power this time—it cut. "You said they vanished during trials. But they're here. The kingdom showed me."
Thalen glanced toward the throne, jaw tightening. "Some truths are buried for a reason."
Leander stepped between us. "And some truths are worth dying for."
Seraphina moved forward at last, her voice silk-wrapped steel. "How dramatic. A few lost girls, a vanished boy, and suddenly we question the very fabric of the trials? You're not the first to hear whispers from the past, Lyra. The kingdom is a mirror—it reflects what you want to see."
But I saw the tremble in her fingers.
She was lying.
"No," I said, rising to my feet. "The kingdom doesn't reflect what I want. It reflects what I am."
And now, I knew what that was.
Not just a girl with a beautiful voice.
Not just an orphan placed in the right place at the wrong time.
I was the voice that could break the curse.
And someone—someone—had been trying to silence it before it ever had the chance to sing.
Thalen said nothing more. He simply gestured toward the exit. "The trial is over. You've passed. All of you—return to your chambers. We will reconvene tomorrow."
Contestants began to file out, some looking at me with awe. Others, with envy. One girl wouldn't meet my eyes at all.
Seraphina vanished into the shadows before I could confront her.
But Leander stayed with me, even when the hall emptied.
We sat together on the cold stage, the remnants of gold still faintly glowing beneath our boots.
"You heard them, didn't you?" I asked, quieter now.
He nodded.
"What if they're trapped somewhere… in the old magic?"
"Then we'll find them," he said, his voice low and steady. "And we'll bring them back."
I looked toward the throne, now silent again.
"You don't have to carry this alone, Lyra."
But I did. And I would.
Because something deep inside me had awakened. Not just magic, not just memory. Resolve.
If the kingdom had chosen me… I would not let it mourn alone.
Not anymore.
Leander was beside me, his eyes locked on the distant shadows that still seemed to crawl across the walls. His fingers brushed mine—light, a tentative touch—but it grounded me. He was my anchor, and even if I couldn't hold onto anything else, I would hold onto him.
He whispered, his voice barely audible, "You felt it, didn't you? The magic wasn't just calling you—it was calling them too."
"I—I don't know what to feel anymore," I confessed, my throat tight. "They're alive. I heard them. But they're trapped. And we don't even know why."
"I think we do," he said quietly, looking back at the center of the stage where the golden circle had once glowed. "The trials, Lyra—they were never meant to be just tests of voice or strength. They were meant to break us. To keep the secrets buried."
My gaze snapped to him, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you mean? What secrets?"
Leander paused, taking a deep breath as if summoning his own courage. His next words were heavy with the weight of something old—something ancient.
"There's magic beneath this kingdom. Magic that goes beyond the curse. Magic that… chooses who stays and who vanishes. Aeloria is more than just a land—it's alive. It feeds on the strongest, the most powerful, and it consumes them."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, my mind racing. "Are you saying the kingdom is alive? That it's—feeding off people?"
He nodded grimly. "In a way. When the curse was placed, it wasn't just to keep Aeloria slumbering. It was to bind it. To give it strength. The magic needed to be contained, but it was always hungry. That hunger... has always been there, beneath the surface."
"Which is why people vanish," I murmured, piecing it together. "Elira, Lysandra, and Ronan—they didn't fail the trials. They were chosen. Taken."
Leander's jaw tightened. "Yes. And the more powerful we become in this contest, the more the kingdom will demand of us. It's not just about who can sing the best—it's about who has the strength to survive it. And that's why you can't back down now. Not after what you've awakened."
My chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming sense of responsibility. The kingdom, the trials, the voices—it was all connected. And I had opened the door. Now I had to face whatever came through it.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, interrupting our moment of quiet understanding. Thalen was returning, his expression even darker than before, his eyes narrowing when they landed on us.
"You've learned too much," he said, voice low but commanding. "This is no longer a simple contest. You've crossed a line, Lyra."
I stood, my resolve hardening. "What do you mean?"
His eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place—fear, perhaps. Or guilt. "You've begun to understand the price of this contest. The magic of Aeloria isn't like any other. It will claim its winners. And it will keep its secrets, no matter the cost."
"What do you know about the vanished contestants?" I demanded, stepping forward. "What really happened to them? And why was I chosen?"
Thalen took a sharp breath, his posture rigid. "I know more than I should. And you're right to be asking these questions. But there are answers that no one here can give you. The kingdom itself holds the truth, and it will only reveal what it wishes."
"What if it's lying?" Leander asked, stepping closer to me. "What if the kingdom wants to keep us in the dark?"
Thalen's gaze flicked briefly to him, and for a second, I saw something like regret in his eyes. "There are forces at play that no one fully understands. I've seen it happen before—contestants whose voices weren't just beautiful but dangerous. They were lost to the kingdom, as you almost were today. You don't know how close you came to being consumed, Lyra."
I recoiled, the weight of his words settling in. "Consumed? Is that what happened to Elira and Lysandra? And Ronan?"
Thalen's expression remained unreadable. "Yes. And no. What they faced is beyond any of us. You have to prepare yourself, Lyra. The trials are designed to break you, but the real battle happens when you reach the end. That's when you'll understand the true cost."
I shook my head, unable to grasp it all. "What do you want me to do? Give up? Stop asking questions? Let Aeloria take what it wants?"
"No," Thalen said, his voice softening for the first time. "I want you to survive."
A silence fell between us then. One that carried the weight of everything unspoken. Everything I still didn't understand.
I looked toward the empty throne. Queen Aria was nowhere to be seen, and for the first time, I felt like I was standing in the place of someone else. Someone who had been here before me—someone who might have been lost to this very magic.
Leander's hand found mine again, grounding me.
"We'll find them, Lyra," he said, his voice low but unwavering. "Elira, Lysandra, and Ronan. We'll get them back."
But I couldn't help the sinking feeling in my stomach. The kingdom had already taken so much from me.
And if I wasn't careful, it would take me too.