Chapter 90: The Geometry of Return
The silence of the Citadel room after the Hall of Mirrors was of a different quality than before. It wasn't the tense quiet of impending judgment, nor the eerie hush of the mountain's corruption. It was the dense, ringing silence that follows a cataclysm, where the air itself feels rearranged.
The heavy door shut, muffling the distant din of the court. For a long moment, no one moved. They stood in their court-appointed finery, which now felt like costumes after a play that had taken a dangerous, unexpected turn.
Lyra was the first to shed hers. She tore at the silver-grey gown with sharp, furious fingers, buttons pinging on the stone floor, until she stood in her simple under-tunic and trousers. She stalked to the hearth, grabbed a piece of charcoal from the fire-bucket, and scrawled a single, enormous word on the pale wall above the mantelpiece:
PRICE
