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Chapter 10 – The Tribunal of Embers
The morning sun bled through stained glass — a slow spill of gold and crimson that painted the High Guild Chamber in holy fire.
Silence ruled the dome of white marble and gold filigree. It wasn't the silence of reverence — it was judgment, carved deep into the stone. Rows of guild members filled the ascending benches, cloaks heavy with sigils of flame, steel, and storm. And below their eyes, in the circle of judgment, stood her.
Sara.
Mana-forged cuffs bound her wrists, pulsing faintly with suppression light. Each heartbeat dimmed the glow beneath her skin. Two guards flanked her, motionless as carved obsidian.
Above, the tribunal gathered like a storm given form — High Inquisitor Atheon presiding, his presence commanding enough to quiet breath. To his right sat the scarred guild leader; to his left, three clerics of the Flame Church, their robes flickering like candlelight.
At the back of the hall stood Kael, helmet tucked under his arm. His knuckles were white, his expression carved in restraint. He hadn't been granted permission to speak — not yet.
Atheon's voice broke the silence, cold and measured.
"Bring the accused forward."
The guards obeyed. Chains clinked — far too loud in that sacred stillness.
Sara lifted her chin, though her pulse hammered beneath her skin.
So this is the famous tribunal. Where truth burns and lies are polished until they shine.
Her faint smile drew whispers from the benches — venom in every murmur.
> "The vixen witch."
"She corrupted the beast."
"I saw her glow. That's proof enough."
Proof. Such a fragile word.
Atheon raised a gloved hand, and the whispers died. Silver-haired, eyes molten gold — not warm, not human. He had judged monsters and men until there was no difference left between them.
"Serah Voss," he began, using the name she'd given. "You stand accused of harboring and channeling corrupted energy within the capital. Do you deny this charge?"
Sara met his gaze. "I deny nothing I don't understand."
A ripple of disbelief swept the chamber. The scarred leader sneered.
"She mocks us, even now."
Atheon ignored him. "Then perhaps you will understand this."
He gestured. A cleric stepped forward, bearing a crystalline shard — jagged, dark, humming faintly. "Recovered from the remains of the beast slain at the northern gate. The shard is inert… except when near you."
The cleric approached. As it neared Sara, the shard flared — veins of green light pulsing like a trapped heart. The crowd gasped.
Sara's breath hitched. She could feel the shard's pulse, thrumming in rhythm with hers — whispering, reaching.
"That doesn't prove anything," she said sharply. "Corruption reacts to energy. Any—"
"Silence!" roared the scarred leader. "The shard recognizes its master!"
The chamber erupted in agreement. Above them, the stained glass image of the Flame God burned crimson under the fury of the crowd.
Kael's fists clenched until blood welled at his palms. He wanted to shout — to do something — but one wrong word, and he'd burn beside her.
Sara's thoughts raced.
If I fight, they'll call it proof. If I don't, they'll burn me anyway. So what choice do I have?
Atheon's gaze never wavered. "The guild has witnessed your unnatural glow, your resilience to binding, and the manner in which you destroyed the corrupted wolf. You claim you acted to protect our hunters?"
"I acted to survive," she said. "And they lived because I fought beside them."
"You mean in spite of them," another officer said coldly.
The air thickened — charged with fear and fire. The scarred leader stepped forward.
"We've lost too many to vixens and their lies. How many villages have burned because of their 'defensive flames'? How many children—"
"That's enough." Kael's voice cracked like thunder.
Every head turned.
"You were not permitted to speak, boy," the scarred leader hissed.
Kael didn't move. "Permission or not, I was there. She saved our lives."
"Then she should've died with the creature!" the man spat. "Better one witch than another outbreak!"
Atheon's staff struck marble once. The sound silenced all.
"The tribunal will have order," he said coolly. After a pause: "Hunter Kael Verin. Your testimony is noted."
Kael's jaw flexed, but he bowed his head, teeth grinding.
Atheon turned back to Sara. "You have heard the accusations. Do you have any final defense before judgment is passed?"
Sara's voice trembled — not from fear, but from fury.
"You call this justice," she whispered. "But all I see is fear pretending to wear its mask."
A hush fell.
"Careful, girl," Atheon warned.
"You're not afraid of corruption," she said, louder now. "You're afraid of what you can't control. If something doesn't kneel, you'd rather destroy it."
Gasps rippled. The scarred leader's hand went to his sword.
Then, without warning, the shard shuddered — its green light flashing into molten gold. The air cracked. Lightning tore through the marble floor. A cleric screamed, flung backward as energy exploded across the dais.
Chaos.
Guards surged forward, sigils blazing.
"Seal the chamber!" Atheon shouted. "She's triggering the corruption!"
"I didn't—!" Sara choked out, but her cuffs flared violently, forcing her to her knees. The shard's resonance was wrong — not hers.
Someone's making it react.
The scarred leader pointed. "There! Proof enough! Witchcraft!"
Spells ignited. Runes shattered marble. Sara dodged a binding rune that scorched past her, the backlash burning her arm.
Kael's voice rose above the din. "Stop! Look at her restraints — she can't cast!"
No one listened.
Sara's blood roared. For an instant, her vision bled with memories,ones she had tried to suppress whilst still alive on earth — a battlefield drowned in black flame, hands reaching through smoke, a whisper threading through her mind:
You cannot hide forever, little flame.
She gasped, forcing the power back — sealing it inside herself until her veins burned cold.
Silence returned.
Smoke coiled from the lifeless shard, now black and cracked. Atheon watched her, and in that quiet, his expression shifted — not pity, not mercy. Calculation.
Finally, he spoke.
"Enough blood for one morning."
He rose, voice like cooled steel.
"Sara Voss, by authority of the Guild and the Church, you are to be transferred to the Hall of Judgment. There, the divine fire will decide your fate. If the Flame finds no corruption, you will live. If not…"
He let the silence finish the thought.
Sara's throat tightened. "A trial by fire, then?"
"At last," he said, "justice purified through flame."
Kael's voice broke through, trembling with rage. "You're sentencing her to execution!"
"To truth," Atheon said without looking back. "If she survives, perhaps then your faith will be justified."
The clerics began to chant. Guards reinforced her bindings with sigil chains, each clink of metal echoing like a verdict.
As they passed the scarred leader, he leaned close, voice dripping venom.
"The gods may be merciful," he whispered, "but I won't be if she returns."
Sara smiled faintly. "Then pray you don't see me again."
They dragged her toward the great doors.
Outside, the square overflowed with bodies — hundreds of faces, thousands of whispers. Witch. Monster. Vixen. Stones struck the cobbles near her feet.
Kael broke through the crowd moments later, shoving past guards.
"Where are you taking her?" he demanded.
"To the Hall of Judgment," a cleric replied coldly. "Pray she returns pure."
Sara turned slightly as they led her to the waiting carriage. Through the distance, her gaze found Kael's — bound by chains, but steady.
Don't give up. Don't break.
The carriage doors slammed shut. City bells tolled — slow, heavy, one for each charge of heresy. The sound rolled like thunder through the streets.
Sara closed her eyes against it, letting it wash over her.
Justice twisted by fear, she thought bitterly. And yet they still call it holy.
The wheels began to turn.
The Tribunal of Embers had ended.
The Trial of Ashes had begun.
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