I will explain this as carefully as I can.
Not because I wish to hide details.
But because I genuinely do not know what truly happened inside that room.
Even now, I am unsure where memory ends and instinct begins.
Being inside the audience chamber of the Veilroot Sanctum was the strangest experience of my life.
No.
That sentence still feels too small.
It was not simply strange.
It was invasive.
Not physically.
Existentially.
The moment The First Veil adjusted her posture slightly upon the throne of roots, my body reacted before thought could form.
I lowered my head instinctively.
So did the others.
Not politely.
Not formally.
Lower.
Far lower.
For one horrifying second, I realized I had almost knelt completely.
Almost worshipped.
Ryn cleared her throat softly.
The sound snapped through the room like a blade through silk.
I froze.
So did the others.
I think we all realized at the same moment what we had almost done.
Only Ryn had remained upright.
Calm.
Controlled.
Though now I understand that “controlled” is not the same thing as “unaffected.”
The four others were eventually escorted back toward the Pale Ante Chamber after briefly presenting the voidscale.
Only Ryn and I remained.
We were seated to the right side of The First Veil.
The negotiation began shortly after.
It was conducted entirely in the Moonfen noble tongue.
I understood nothing.
Not a single word.
And yet…
I felt as though I understood the atmosphere of every sentence.
The pressure.
The shifts.
The invisible currents moving beneath each exchange.
At first, I focused mostly on The First Veil.
That quickly became impossible.
Looking directly at her for too long created a nauseating sensation I still cannot explain.
So eventually my attention drifted toward Ryn instead.
And that was when something inside me began hurting.
Ryn maintained her usual professional expression in the beginning.
Calm.
Sharp.
Controlled.
But slowly, subtle changes started appearing.
A slight softening around the eyes.
The beginning of a smile.
A warmth entering her expression.
Then suddenly—
Pain.
Her fingers pressed sharply into her own leg beneath the table.
Hard enough that I saw the movement through her clothing.
Her expression flattened immediately afterward.
Again.
And again.
Every time her face softened naturally, she hurt herself.
Like someone fighting sleep beside a cliff edge.
At one point, I saw her slowly pull her dagger slightly from its sheath beneath the table.
Only a little.
Just enough to expose the edge.
Without interrupting the conversation, she drew the blade lightly against her own little finger.
A thin line of blood appeared.
The First Veil glanced downward once.
Then gave the smallest shake of her head.
I do not know how I understood it.
But somehow I did.
You do not need to do that.
That was the meaning I felt.
Not heard.
Felt.
Ryn quietly sheathed the dagger again.
And continued negotiating.
At that moment, I stopped feeling nervous for myself.
I became afraid for Ryn instead.
Because I realized she was struggling against something invisible.
Something I could not even perceive clearly enough to defend her from.
And the worst part was that I did not understand why.
I only understood that it was hurting her.
That alone was enough to make my chest ache.
I think somewhere along this journey, without noticing it fully, I had started viewing Ryn as something dangerously close to family.
An older sister I never meant to find.
And now I was forced to sit there watching her bleed silently in front of me while remaining completely powerless.
The negotiation continued for what felt like hours.
The First Veil rarely moved.
Rarely spoke.
But occasionally—
She looked at me.
Not often.
Which somehow made it worse.
Every time her eyes drifted toward me, my entire body became tense.
Not because she looked threatening.
But because I felt seen too completely.
Like standing naked in winter light.
No.
Deeper than that.
Like every memory I had ever carried was being turned over slowly by invisible hands.
My childhood.
My family.
The caravan.
The stories.
Everything.
Nothing inside me felt hidden anymore.
Then something happened neither Ryn nor I seemed prepared for.
The First Veil stood.
The movement itself was graceful beyond reason.
Not theatrical.
Not seductive.
Simply perfect.
That perfection was what terrified me.
She descended from the throne slowly and approached us.
No one spoke.
Even the room itself felt quieter.
Before I could react, she reached toward my right hand.
Her fingers touched my skin gently.
And I nearly stopped breathing.
The sensation was horrifying.
Not because it hurt.
Because it felt safe.
Too safe.
Warm.
Soft.
Complete.
The only comparison my mind can create even now is this:
It felt like returning to a womb.
The kind of comfort so absolute it becomes terrifying.
The First Veil turned my hand over carefully.
Then her gaze settled on my forearm.
There, barely visible beneath my sleeve, rested the faint black mark I had long stopped thinking about.
A small fragment of dragon scale.
A lingering remnant from the Flesh Bargain inside Drakenspire Sanctum.
A mark I received after witnessing the ritual as Caravan Master’s Chronicler.
Most people never noticed it.
Even I had nearly forgotten it existed.
But The First Veil saw it immediately.
She observed it silently for several seconds.
Then she looked directly into my eyes.
I cannot describe that feeling properly.
Even remembering it now makes my stomach twist.
It did not feel like eye contact.
It felt like being unfolded.
Then she turned toward Ryn and spoke several quiet words in the Moonfen tongue.
Ryn’s expression changed instantly.
Not dramatically.
But completely.
Shock.
Real shock.
For the first time since entering Yggdra, I saw her composure fracture.
Several seconds passed.
Then Ryn slowly nodded.
The First Veil nodded once in return.
After that, she looked back at me.
And spoke in Common Tongue for the first time.
“You come with me.”
Not a request.
Not an invitation.
A decision.
And somehow…
I knew refusal had never truly existed.
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