They came at dawn, six hooded figures gliding through the door of his cell. The chains around Soren's wrists clinked as he struggled to his feet, muscles screaming from hours spent on cold stone.

"Time for judgment," one of them whispered, voice scraping like metal on stone.

Soren looked across the narrow corridor where Veyr had been held, but the cell stood empty. No sign remained of the Velrane heir, not even the imprint where he had sat so composed despite his chains. The realization sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the damp air.

"Where's Lord Velrane?" he managed, throat raw from thirst.

The Inquisitor's face remained hidden within his deep hood. "The noble witness is being escorted separately. Your paths diverge now."

They marched him through corridors that twisted ever downward, descending deeper beneath the Cathedral than he had thought possible.

The air grew thicker with each turn, heavy with incense that couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of old stone and something metallic that caught in the back of his throat. Soren's legs trembled with each step, weakness from the previous day's ordeal still clinging to him like a second skin.

The shard against his chest remained cold but quiet, Valenna's presence muted as if conserving strength. He found himself longing for her sharp commentary, for any voice besides the soft shuffling of Inquisitors' slippers against stone.

The passage ended abruptly at a circular door of blackened iron, its surface etched with symbols that made his eyes water if he looked directly at them.

Two Inquisitors placed their hands against the metal, chanting words in that same ancient tongue he'd heard during his questioning. The door responded with a low groan, swinging inward to reveal what lay beyond.

Heat struck him like a physical blow, stealing the breath from his lungs. The chamber beyond was perfectly circular, its walls lined with pillars carved from some pale stone that seemed to absorb the dancing light rather than reflect it.

Between each pillar stood reliquaries of polished gold, their glass fronts revealing grisly contents, bones, dried flesh, scraps of fabric preserved in strange liquids.

Saints' remains, he realized with a jolt. The preserved fragments of those the Church deemed holy.

But it was what dominated the center of the chamber that drew his gaze and held it. A massive brazier of hammered bronze, easily twice the height of a man, rose from a pit in the floor.

Within it burned the Eternal Flame of Solmir, the sacred fire that had ignited when the faith was founded, never extinguished in all the centuries since.

Unlike Calvian's golden sword-flame, this fire burned white at its core, shading to deep amber at its edges. It roared upward toward a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow and smoke, its heat so intense that sweat immediately soaked through Soren's threadbare shirt.

A small gallery had been built into one wall, elevated above the main floor. There sat the audience for what was to come, senior clergy in formal vestments, high Inquisitors whose faces remained shadowed within their hoods, and Ser Calvian himself, golden and perfect in his scripture-etched armor.

This was not the public spectacle of the audience chamber. This was something more intimate, more final.

Soren's gaze swept the gallery, searching for Veyr's pale face among the assembled witnesses. He found the heir seated apart from the others, still bound in those strange chains, his expression carefully neutral as he observed the proceedings below.

Their eyes met briefly across the chamber, not encouragement exactly, but acknowledgment.

The Inquisitors forced Soren to his knees before the brazier, the heat from the flame searing his face even at this distance.

From within their robes, they produced new chains, not the cold-burning restraints he'd worn since his capture, but links of metal inscribed with scripture, each verse flowing into the next in an unbroken circle.

They bound his wrists anew, the metal burning hot against his raw skin.

"Scripture-forged," one of them whispered as they tightened the bonds. "That which contains the Word contains all truth."

They dragged him closer to the brazier, close enough that breathing became painful, each inhalation scorching his lungs. The flame roared higher as he approached, as if sensing fresh fuel.

The lead Inquisitor, the marble-faced man who had conducted his questioning, stepped forward, arms raised toward the vaulted ceiling.

"The Flame cannot be deceived," he intoned, voice carrying despite the fire's constant roar. "It burns truth into light, and corruption into ash."

The words fell like stones into still water, rippling outward with finality that settled into Soren's bones. This was not questioning. This was execution. They had brought him to the heart of their power to be consumed, erased so thoroughly that not even memory would remain.

'Stand,' Valenna's voice suddenly cut through his mind, sharp as winter frost after hours of silence. 'Stand before it. You are not theirs to burn.'

With tremendous effort, Soren forced his legs to straighten, rising from his knees despite the chains binding his wrists. The movement drew murmurs from the gallery above, clergy leaning forward with renewed interest.

The Eternal Flame seemed to respond to his defiance. It swelled outward, tendrils of white-hot fire reaching toward him like curious fingers. The heat intensified until Soren's skin felt ready to blister and peel away from muscle.

"The corruption reveals itself!" the Inquisitor declared, satisfaction edging his voice. "See how it recoils from sacred light!"

But something was happening that none of them had anticipated. The flame stretched toward Soren, yes, but it didn't consume. Instead, it wrapped around him like a living cloak, licking at his clothes, his skin, his hair... yet leaving him unburned.

The shard against his chest pulsed with violent cold, so intense it sent frost spreading outward beneath his shirt despite the flame's overwhelming heat. Valenna's presence crystalized within him, sharp and clear as broken ice.

"It reacts to you," she whispered, her voice grounded in a way he had never heard before. "Your bloodline.."

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