The silence in the cathedral was suffocating.
Each step we took echoed against the towering stone walls, the sound swallowed quickly by the sheer weight of reverence that clung to the air. The scent of burning incense curled through the space—something rich, almost metallic, tinged with an edge of something sharper. It sent a ripple of unease through me, the sensation of something just out of reach, something watching.
And still, Veylara laughed.
Low. Silken. Knowing.
"Oh, dear Noctis… you feel it too, don't you? This place does not welcome us. It knows what you are. What I am."
I tightened my jaw, forcing my hands to remain steady at my sides. The others felt it too—I could see it in the way Lucian's fingers twitched near the hilt of his blade, the way Gareth's normally sharp eyes kept darting to the murals above us as if expecting them to move. Callen looked the most uncomfortable of all, his hands balled into fists at his sides, as if he were trying not to shiver.
Alaria, to her credit, managed to look the least bothered. But that was a lie.
I knew her well enough to recognize the tension in her shoulders, the restless twitch of her fingers as they brushed against the hilts of her daggers. She was waiting for something to happen. So was I.
The priest guiding us moved with an eerie stillness, his white robes gliding over the marble floor as though he wasn't walking at all. He led us through a great archway, into a vast, dimly lit chamber. Pillars carved with celestial runes stretched high into the shadows, and at the far end of the hall, seated beneath an enormous golden mosaic of the Divine Children, were seven figures.
My breath caught in my throat.
They sat in high-backed chairs, unmoving. Their robes were pristine—woven from what looked like threads of pure light. Each bore a sigil upon their chest, glowing faintly with a color unique to them. Their faces were serene, untouched by time, yet their presence was wrong. There was something… hollow about them, something that sent a shudder down my spine.
"Ah… look at them, dear Noctis." Veylara purred, the amusement in her voice sharp now, almost venomous. "Behold the Divine Children, those who claim to be eternal. They stare upon you with their empty eyes, and yet—" she chuckled darkly, "—they are afraid."
Afraid?
The thought barely had time to settle before the one seated at the center stirred.
Aelira, the Eternal Flame.
Her presence was blinding, the fire in her eyes burning with something that wasn't just light—it was divine scrutiny.
"Noctis."
She spoke my name like it was a sentence. A brand. The weight of it pressed against me, curling in my lungs like smoke.
Elaris stiffened beside me. "You—you know his name?"
The Divine Children did not react to her question. Their gazes remained locked onto me. Unwavering. Assessing.
"One who walks the path of the Rift has no place here." Aelira's voice was as unwavering as the fire that burned behind her. "And yet, you have come. You seek knowledge of the past."
My throat felt dry. I forced myself to hold her gaze. "I do."
The second figure shifted—Veloras, the Blade of Judgment. His very presence was like a blade drawn too close to my skin. "You wield a power that should not exist," he said. His voice was cold, a stark contrast to Aelira's burning scrutiny. "You bear the mark of the Rift. You are an aberration."
I felt Elaris tense beside me, but I didn't react.
I already knew what I was. I didn't need them to remind me.
"But the Rift is not all that clings to you, is it?"
It was the third figure who spoke now—Thaldrin, the Keeper of Wisdom. His gaze was the sharpest of them all, like he was looking through me. "You carry something else. Something older. Something that should have been forgotten."
A chill ran down my spine.
They knew.
I could feel Veylara shift within me, her presence curling like smoke through my veins. But this time, she did not laugh.
No.
She whispered.
"They remember me, Noctis." Her voice was almost soft now. "They remember what I was… before the Rift. Before the Fall."
The Fall.
I barely had time to process what she meant before Aelira spoke again.
"You stand before us in search of answers," she said. "But there is only one question that matters."
The golden fire behind her flared, casting long shadows across the chamber.
"Are you an enemy of the Eternal Flame?"
Silence.
A test. A trap.
There was no right answer here.
If I said no, they wouldn't believe me. If I said yes—well, I wasn't stupid enough to say yes.
So I did the only thing I could.
I told the truth.
"I don't know," I said, my voice steady. "I don't know what I am to you."
The fire flickered.
The Divine Children were silent.
Then, the seventh figure—one who had not spoken, not even moved—stirred.
My breath hitched.
She sat at the very end of the line, draped in silver threads, her face obscured by a veil so thin it was barely visible. But I felt her gaze settle on me, and it sent something cold through my bones.
Eryndis.
The Weaver of Fate.
"You do not know," she murmured, her voice little more than a whisper. "And yet… your thread is frayed."
Her head tilted slightly.
"Two hands pull upon it. One seeks to sever. The other seeks to weave anew."
Veylara hissed.
"That one sees too much." Her voice was sharp, wary. "She walks the edge of the Veil, Noctis. Do not trust her."
I exhaled slowly. "And what does that mean?" I asked, keeping my tone even.
Eryndis did not answer me.
She only smiled.
And that smile unnerved me more than anything else in this place.
The silence stretched on, before Aelira finally rose to her feet.
"You seek knowledge of ruins lost to time," she said. "Very well. We will grant you an audience."
My chest tightened.
"But," she continued, "it will not come without cost."
I already knew it wouldn't.
"Come to the Sanctuary's lower halls at first light," she said. "There, you will receive your answer."
With that, the Divine Children stood as one.
And then they vanished.
No grand display. No final words.
One moment they were there.
The next, they were gone.
The silence left behind was deafening.
Lucian let out a low breath. "That," he muttered, "was the single most unsettling conversation I have ever had."
Alaria rolled her shoulders. "I didn't like that last one," she muttered. "The thread-lady. She gave me the creeps."
Elaris was still staring at the empty seats, her expression unreadable.
Gareth rubbed his temples. "So. We came looking for answers. And now we have to pay for them."
I didn't say anything.
Because my gaze was still locked on the space where Eryndis had sat.
And her words still echoed in my mind.
"Two hands pull upon your thread."
I already knew one of them was Veylara.
But the other?
I had no idea.
And that was what scared me the most.