The Silence of Verrian Kael

14 Obscurum, 481 AR — Zenith of Tharaxis

It is cold in the Oculus tonight, though no wind stirs. Twelve of us stand upon the seals, robed and silent. Prima Eloria watches from her high alcove, though this is not her rite — not yet.

Kael enters barefoot, robed in the garb of the elect. His face betrays no fear, though I know it well enough to see the tension behind his stillness. He nods, briefly, to me as he passes. That moment lingers longer than it should.

The Custodians place the Sigillum at his feet. The light of Tharaxis spills down.

He kneels.

The Rift answers.

There is no sound when the trance begins, no visible sign. But I felt it — a pressure behind the eyes, a ripple beneath the skin. The seals beneath our feet hum, faintly. Kael’s body remains still.

Minutes pass. Perhaps hours. Time has no dominion here.

Then the seals flicker.

He inhales sharply. His eyes open — but not with clarity. They are wide, searching, weeping.

He speaks.

“Father,” he says, “you never left.”

None respond. We are not permitted.

“I did what you asked. I gave it away. The blade, the name, the... gods, I can still hear him.”

Now his words twist. The voice shifts — deeper, echoed, as if multiple tongues speak through one mouth. The light of the Rift trembles. One of the seals cracks.

Prima Eloria stands. Her eyes narrow.

Kael arches backward, mouth open, but there is no scream. Only light pouring out — from his eyes, from his chest, from the Sigillum itself. Then darkness.

The seals dim.

He collapses.

The silence is complete.

Eloria descends, her hand stretched out. She touches his brow. Her voice — the only one permitted to speak now — whispers: “You are not unworthy. You are unfinished.”

She turns to us.

“He is not Prima.”

No record was amended. No name was struck. But Verrian Kael was never spoken of again.