Highcourt had never seen so much color.
Lavender ribbons fluttered from balcony rails and carriage lanterns. A hundred different shades swirled together in the crowd—cloth, ink, paint, chalk—blending into one shared purpose: to bear witness.
Inside the Council Hall, the ceiling domes of stained glass cast violet light upon the marble floor. Nobles in ceremonial black sat in staggered silence, their faces grim. The great silver dais stood empty, awaiting the speaker.
Lady Esmira entered without fanfare.
But the room shifted.
Every head turned. Some in disbelief. Others in resignation. She walked slowly but upright, her staff clicking softly on the stone, her lavender shawl blazing brighter than any banner.
Behind her came silence.
Then I entered, followed by Oren, Mina, Correnne, and
