"You ask what you are," the layered voices said. "We will answer."
The crystalline atrium around us changed, the impossible architecture rearranging itself into something that looked almost like a library, or a lecture hall, or some combination of both that hurt to process.
"Sit," the arbiter commanded, and suddenly there were chairs behind us, crystalline and solid and somehow comfortable despite being made of frozen light.
My legs gave out gratefully. Azryth remained standing for a moment longer, defiant, but eventually sat beside me.
Our hands stayed joined, palms still pressed together, blood still mixing.
The arbiter drifted closer, and the space between us filled with images, projections made of light and shadow that hung in the air like three-dimensional photographs.
