Reneth moved through the corridor without speaking.
The glyphs beneath his feet no longer pulsed in rhythm with his steps. They still lit the path, but dimmer now. Slower. As if they were hesitating. As if unsure how to respond.
He felt it.
Not panic.
But uncertainty.
That was worse.
He had always known the steps. Memorized them. Lived them. The prayers at sunrise. The Vein meditations at dusk. The lineage affirmations. The tracing of the House Sigil before each test. His body remembered what his nerves could not.
But the mirror had cracked.
And not in rebellion. Not in challenge.
It had simply… broken.
He passed into the next chamber without being called. The passage opened with a soft hum and no command. There were no scribes here. No observers in robes. Just quiet stone and the faint buzz of glyphs that no longer looked right to him.
They had always felt clean. Now they felt layered. As if something beneath them was waking.
The waiting room was smaller.
Twelve candidates at most.
One seat remained.
He took it slowly.
No one looked at him. That was normal. Candidates avoided eye contact to preserve focus.
But the girl across from him sat with a strange stillness. Not quiet. Not meditative. Still.
He recognized her now. He had seen her name on one of the trial boards. A lowborn with no recorded crest. No banners. Yet she had passed the mirror before him. She sat with her eyes half-closed and no tension in her shoulders. The glyphs beneath her seat responded to her breathing. That should not have been possible.
Reneth looked away.
His hands were still. But he could feel the sweat building in the lines of his palms.
He had not prepared for cracks.
The Selection was meant to reveal strength. It was not meant to question design.
Another name was called.
Someone stood.
He heard the soft shuffle of boots across stone.
The chamber did not react.
But something deeper did.
A sound pressed behind his thoughts. Not a voice. Not words. Just the suggestion of presence.
A question with no shape.
He shut his eyes and focused on the sigil etched into his memory.
His family line was old. It was strong. That had to be enough.
That had always been enough.
But the silence in the room stretched longer than it should have.
And when he opened his eyes again, the light beneath his feet had faded completely.