The music faltered first.
One note bent sharp, wrong, before vanishing altogether. Conversation stilled, laughter clipped short. The hall's silence spread like frost across glass.
I stood among the Brides, porcelain mask cool against my skin. The nobles' eyes darted, searching for a cause, whispering behind painted smiles.
Then she cried out.
A Bride beside me, her gown pale blue, her mask adorned with silver leaves. Her body arched, strained against unseen strings, her voice cracking until it dissolved into a silence far heavier than before.
The hall recoiled. Servants stumbled back, nobles pressed hands to their mouths. The music did not return.
Her mask split down the center, porcelain cracking with a sound like ice breaking on stone. She collapsed, still and silent, her figure crumpled at the feet of the High Priest.
He was the first to move. His iron mask glinted in the candlelight as he raised his hand. "The Veil has spoken," he declared. His voice carried through the chamber, cold and final. "Disobedience will be punished."
The nobles bowed their heads, muttering prayers. Some turned their faces away from the body on the marble floor, as though blindness could shield them.
I did not move.
Inside, I knew the truth: it was not her disobedience that had been punished. It was mine. My silence, my restraint, my refusal to yield. The Veil had chosen another as its warning, but the message was carved for me.
I lowered my gaze just enough to mimic reverence, letting them believe I had absorbed the lesson. My pulse was steady. My expression hidden.
But within, my resolve sharpened. If the Veil thought fear would break me, it had chosen poorly.