Tessai and Harus stepped out first—two towering shadows flanking Gunlaug like decorative statues.
Tessai wore his perpetual sneer, eyes glittering with that familiar cruelty. He didn't even pretend to hide his contempt for us—or his delight in the Guards' mocking.
Harus looked… elsewhere. Off-balance. Emotionally hollow, like someone drifting between breaths, not quite present in the moment.
Gemma and Kido entered together. Gemma looked uneasy, gaze flickering from the Guards to Kai to Gunlaug. Kido looked confused, maybe even impressed that anyone would dare challenge Gunlaug's authority so publicly.
And then there was Seishan.
Standing apart. Regal. Serene. Watching us like we were the most entertaining development she'd seen all week.
When our eyes met, she actually smiled.
It was a mix of sympathy, amusement and interest.
The room felt suddenly smaller. Heavier. Like the palace itself was waiting for blood.
One of the Guards shrugged, spreading his arms wide.
"Look, Bright Lord," he said, tone oily, "this is simple: we didn't do anything. The Sleeper girl probably fell. Or got into a fight with her boyfriend. Or maybe pretty-boy here roughed her up and is blaming us. Who knows?"
A few chuckles came from the more loyalists in the room.
Kai's jaw trembled. "You—!"
I gently caught his arm.
Not now.
The second Guard leaned forward, sneer widening.
"We serve the Bright Castle. We bleed for it. You think we'd risk our positions for some—"
Sasrir took a step. Just one. Everyone shut up.
Gunlaug's helm turned toward him slowly.
"Oh?" Gunlaug murmured. "Does the shadow have something to add?"
Sasrir didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes rest on the two Guards with an expression that could only be described as patient, clinical boredom.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft— No, soft wasn't the right word. Quiet. But sharp enough to slit a throat.
"They're lying."
No hesitation. No qualifiers. Just simple fact.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop.
Gunlaug leaned back again.
"Well, well," he said with a low laugh. "How fascinating this is becoming."
The crowd whispered. Some leaned closer. Others backed away.
I took a breath.
Because this was only the beginning.
And now the entire Bright Castle—and the Bright Lord—were watching.
Harus moved.
It was slight—just the tilt of a neck that looked like it was barely holding onto the spine beneath it—but it was enough. The hunchback's hollow eyes, always unfocused and drifting, actually fixed on us. On Sasrir, specifically. Something in that deadened stare crawled under my skin.
My pulse jumped despite myself.
He dies in a corner in the original novel, I reminded myself. A pathetic death. Nothing to fear. Nothing to fear. If Sunny can kill him, then I can too.
But knowing the future didn't make the present any less unnerving.
Sasrir, for his part, didn't seem remotely bothered by Harus' attention. If anything, the shadowborn warrior's stance only sharpened, chin rising a fraction, his presence pressing against the room like a blade against a throat.
The tension was so thick it felt like the air might crack.
Gunlaug finally broke it.
The Bright Lord reclined back into his throne as if settling comfortably into a bath, the sharp amusement draining from his voice. "Enough," he said, almost bored. "The evidence is… inconclusive."
Kai stiffened beside me. "What? But Mira—"
Gunlaug flicked a hand. "Bring her forward, then. Let her speak."
Kai almost choked on his own breath. "She can't! She's still too injured—she hasn't even woken—"
Tessai let out a barking laugh, sharp and vicious. "Then end this nonsense already. We all have better things to do than indulge gutter rats and outsiders."
A smattering of snickers and murmurs rippled through the gathered Guards. The crowd behind us bristled—but no one spoke. Fear sealed every mouth shut.
I felt the weight of their stares. Contempt. Hostility. The kind of casual cruelty that came from the certainty that no one would challenge them.
For a moment, all I could hear was my own heartbeat. I reached up and rubbed the crucifix around my neck.
And then I stepped forward.
My voice cut clean across the throne room.
"I demand a trial by combat."
Silence. Absolute, ringing silence.
Every gaze snapped to me—Seishan's narrowing with interest, Tessai's widening in disbelief, Harus' hollow sockets somehow seeming even darker. Even Sasrir shifted, just enough to give me a sidelong look.
Kai stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
But I didn't look at any of them. I looked only at the Bright Lord.
"If your men are innocent," I said, my voice steady, "they'll win."
I let the implications hang in the air like a guillotine.
The throne room exploded.
Whispers surged through the gathered crowd like a wave breaking—sharp, frantic, disbelieving.
"He invoked trial…?" "Is he insane?" "A Hunter challenging Guards—" "—why would they fight amongst themselves—"
Tessai reacted first.
The brute surged upright with a roar, veins bulging along his neck. "YOU LITTLE—"
The two accused Guards joined in, shouting over each other, spitting insults, fury, and panic. "This is a joke!" "Trial my ass!" "We won't be—"
Gemma sucked in a breath, hands clenching at his side as he looked at me like he wanted to kill me. Harus merely stared, unblinking, expression unreadable. Kido looked at me like she was seeing me for the very first time—really seeing, eyes narrowed in analytic surprise.
But none of it mattered, because—
Gunlaug laughed.
No—he erupted.
His head snapped back and he unleashed a bellow of laughter so loud it made the torches shiver in their brackets. The sound ricocheted off stone walls like thunder. Guards fell silent mid-shout. The crowd hushed instantly. Even Tessai stumbled back a step, eyes wide.
Gunlaug kept laughing. And laughing. And laughing.
Nearly a minute passed.
Each second stretched tight enough to snap as the Bright Lord emptied his lungs, and I bet tears of amusement were squeezing from the corners of his eyes. Finally, as the echoes faded, he drew in a slow, steadying breath.
Then— For the first time since we'd entered— Gunlaug rose from his throne.
Liquid gold armor shifted with him, gleaming in the light like a warning. He stood tall, casting a long, heavy shadow that reached all the way to our feet. His amusement vanished, wiped utterly clean.
What replaced it was cold contempt.
He looked down on me—on Sasrir, on Kai—as if we were something he'd found stuck to the bottom of his boot.
Then he drawled, each syllable dripping with disdain:
"A trial by combat, is it?"
The hall held its breath.
Even my heartbeat felt too loud.
Gunlaug's lips curled—not into a smile, but something hungrier, sharper.
"Well now," he murmured, "isn't that… interesting."
Gunlaug's voice rolled through the hall like grinding stone.
"And who," he said slowly, savoring every word, "will you nominate as Champion?"
My jaw tightened. I didn't speak yet—but he wasn't waiting for an answer.
"The supposed victim…" He flicked his fingers dismissively. "Still unconscious, yes? Can't fight. Pity."
His gaze shifted to Kai.
"Will the singer step forward?" A pause. A cruel smile. "I hear your voice is quite famous, Nightingale. But I wonder… do your hands know how to do anything besides pluck strings?"
Kai paled.
Before he could muster even a breath, Gunlaug was already turning to me.
"Or perhaps you, Preacher?" His tone soured mockingly. "You seem awfully eager for justice today. Care to bleed for it? Or should we see if your God will intervene?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
Gunlaug's eyes slid past me like a blade, landing on the shadowed figure at my back.
"Ah," he purred. "Of course. There is one more option."
Sasrir didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even look up.
Gunlaug leaned forward on the edge of his gleaming armor, voice dropping into something darkly delighted:
"Maybe your little pet—" He gestured lazily at Sasrir. "—wants to spill some human blood for once."