CHAPTER THREE: THE GATES BETWEEN NAMES (Part three)
The doors of the Lyceum opened without a sound.
No pulse signature. No activation gesture.
They simply knew who was coming.
Timishu stood in the center of the room—spine straight, shoulders set, gaze sharp. Her uniform bore no mark of rank, but the way the walls seemed to respect her said more than medals ever could.
Behind her, veiled by the high glass throne,
King Vaelen waited.
He didn't wear a crown.
Just dark robes lined with silver pulse thread—stitched in patterns older than the kingdom itself.
The kind no one in the room could name, but everyone somehow felt.
Zephryn stepped forward first.
Not because he wanted to—because he had to.
Timishu watched him walk the entire way.
She didn't speak. Didn't nod.
But her presence alone cut the room like a blade unsheathed.
Kaelen and Yolti followed, each carrying a silence of their own.
Selka stood near the back.
Still. Quiet. Watching.
She didn't look at the king.
She only watched Zephryn.
Vaelen didn't rise.
"Do you remember the first time you saw the stars from the outside?" he asked suddenly.
Zephryn blinked. His voice came out hollow. "…No."
Vaelen's gaze softened.
"That's fair. Few do."
The king's hands folded in front of him. He gestured slightly—and Timishu stepped forward, holding something wrapped in a black velvet cloth.
He unwrapped it slowly, carefully, like it was sacred.
Inside: a small silver key, a celestol pendant threaded on dark string, and a thin slip of folded memory glass.
Timishu held them in his palm—arm extended—not toward Kaelen, not Yolti.
Only toward Zephryn.
"Do you know what these are?" Vaelen asked.
Zephryn didn't speak.
He reached out—hesitated—and then took the key first.
It was warm.
The celestol flickered softly in his hand, but not from light.
From recognition.
Timishu didn't lower her arm.
The memory slip remained.
"You will be allowed full access to your dorm," Vaelen said. "But only under resonance supervision."
A pause.
"Do not lose that pendant. It belonged to someone I trust."
Zephryn looked up sharply. "Who?"
The king smiled—tired, but sincere.
"Names are only true… when remembered."
The words felt like a riddle. Like a dare. Like a thread stretched across something deeper than truth.
And before Zephryn could ask another question—
Timishu spoke.
"The Resonant Trial is in seven days."
Silence dropped again.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Just the sound of fate beginning to unfold.