The great hall of obsidian and silver lay heavy with silence.
For a moment, no one moved after Valari Ka'tarel departed. The sigil beneath the floor had dimmed, but its faint pulse was like the beat of a heart, reminding them that the Hollow's opening was close.
Eleven heirs sat in their circle, shadows standing silently behind them.
And then, like the breaking of glass, the silence cracked.
Kael Verradine leaned forward, his smirk sharpened like a blade. "So this is it. The heirs of the eleven houses, gathered like prized cattle. Forgive me if I don't feel particularly honored."
His words dripped like poison into the stillness.
Torin Draemir let out a loud bark of laughter, his voice echoing against the vaulted walls. "At least you admit you're cattle. I'm just here for the fight." His shadow Orrik shifted slightly behind him, silent, massive.
Seloria Verradine, seated beside her brother, did not even turn her head. "Torin, you're too eager. You'll bleed out before the Hollow even decides what to do with you." Her voice was cool, precise, laced with quiet disdain.
Torin leaned back, grinning. "If I do, at least it'll be more exciting than drowning in politics like you lot."
Rhyen Calvess, draped in embroidered silks, gave an exaggerated sigh, swirling the jeweled ring on his finger. "All this talk of bleeding and cattle. Honestly, you'd think this was a slaughterhouse. Some of us came prepared for something more refined."
His shadow Mara rolled her eyes behind him, muttering just loud enough for the nearest heirs to hear: "Refined, he says, while hiding behind his coin purse."
Rhyen ignored her, flashing a charming smile across the circle.
Saphine shifted slightly in her seat, forcing her expression calm. She could feel the pressure in the air, the subtle currents of pride and suspicion swirling around the room.
Beside her, Eris sat motionless, one hand on his knee, the other adjusting his glasses with idle grace. His presence was still, yet somehow heavier than any voice spoken so far. He didn't even need to move to command attention; his silence was its own blade.
And some of them noticed.
Ilyra Deythar's cold gaze flicked briefly toward him, a scholar measuring a specimen. Lyssandra Eryndor tilted her head, dreamy eyes lingering on him a little too long, like she was trying to sketch the curve of his shadow in her mind.
Aerin Valmont, however, was the one to speak.
"You talk as though this is a contest of words," he said, his tone carrying the weight of steel. "But the Hollow will not care for your pride or your wealth. It will only test whether heir and shadow can stand together."
His words rang, noble and proud, but Kael Verradine only smirked wider. "Spoken like a true branch dog. Still barking for the Ka'tarel name, are you, Aerin?"
The insult landed sharp. Meline's hand brushed the hilt of her blade, but Aerin stopped her with a subtle motion. His jaw tightened, his spear resting against his back like an unspoken promise.
Edrin Vaelor, who had been silent until now, finally rumbled in a low voice: "Enough." His tone was like stone grinding against stone, and the faint shift of his shadow Corwyn made the air heavier. "If you cannot keep your tempers here, you will not survive in there."
For once, silence followed, grudging but present.
But not for long.
Veyra Solmar leaned forward, sea-colored eyes bright with reckless amusement. "You're all so serious. It's suffocating. Why not admit the truth? Half of us don't care about the trials — we care about what comes after. Alliances. Power. Houses rising and falling. Isn't that why you're all glaring holes into each other instead of waiting quietly?"
Her shadow Dorn shifted slightly, his broad frame steady, as if ready to catch her when she inevitably pushed too far.
Seloria Verradine finally looked up, her voice calm but edged like silk over steel. "And what do you propose, Lady Solmar? That we draw alliances here and now?"
Veyra grinned. "Why not? Better than pretending we'll all smile politely while we watch each other's backs break."
The room tensed again.
Rhyen Calvess immediately leaned forward, seizing the opening. "An alliance would not be unreasonable." His smile widened. "Houses Calvess and Verradine, for example, could—"
"Careful," Ilyra Deythar interrupted, her voice as cold as a knife dipped in frost. "Those who speak too openly in this hall often forget who else listens." Her eyes slid toward Eris for just an instant, then away, as if his silence unnerved her more than his words ever could.
Saphine felt her pulse quicken. She could see the threads weaving already — insults wrapped in politics, alliances whispered beneath pride, threats cloaked as courtesy.
And through it all, Eris had yet to speak a single word.
She stole a glance at him, wondering if he was bored or simply reading every layer of tension with his Grand Gaze.
Then, quietly, he did move. He leaned toward her, his voice a whisper meant only for her ears.
"They're already playing the second trial," he said, adjusting his glasses. "The Hollow hasn't even opened, but the heirs are trying to make it theirs before it begins."
Saphine's breath caught. "…And us?"
Eris's lips curved faintly — not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. "We'll wait. Shadows always see more when others think the room is dark."
The tension lingered until Valari's voice returned, echoing faintly through the chamber from sigils etched in the walls.
"At dawn, you enter."
The words cut through the heirs' scheming like the toll of a bell. One by one, they fell into silence again, though the weight of what had been spoken — and what hadn't — hung in the air like smoke.
The trial had not yet begun.
But already, the heirs were at war.