His name was on the scroll.
One of the names Mira gave him... folded in silence, written in her own clean hand. No explanation. No justification. Just the name: High Voice Marrel.
And now they stood watching him.
Zee leaned beneath a weather-worn gate at the edge of the square, cloak drawn low. Sevi stood beside him, sharp-eyed and quiet. Torren lingered near a line of vendors, pretending to examine a basket of dull brass rings.
The square was crowded, not with force but with obedience. Devotion here did not shout... it waited.
At the center, raised above the people on a sunstone dais, stood Marrel.
He wore white robes stitched with flame-thread, a golden circlet above his brows, and held the Book of Alignment like it weighed judgment itself. A brass-tipped staff burned at his side... the flame steady, unbothered by wind.
"We begin," Marrel intoned, "with the Doctrine of Light. Verse VII."
His voice carried not with volume, but certainty.
"Magic is the lie that man may lift his hand above heaven."
"In the time before the Dragon rose, men danced with fire they did not own."
"They called it power. They called it truth. But none of it answered when they prayed."
Sevi didn't shift. But her jaw clenched.
"It was Bendragon who silenced false miracles."
"It was Bendragon who made the sun kneel."
"Now the world is aligned. There is no power but what flows through Him."
Torren murmured from behind them.
"Sounds divine enough."
Marrel turned another page... slowly, reverently.
"Blasphemy rises again," he said. "Not from the pits, but from pride."
"In the distant woods of Elairth... heresy takes root."
Sevi's brow furrowed.
"Is he talking about us?"
Zee didn't look at her.
"Let's see."
Marrel's voice rose again, steady and sharpened like a blade being drawn in public.
"They call themselves the Magic Liberation Army. Rebels, they say. Defenders of Mages. But I tell you now... they are nothing but traitors to order."
Sevi blinked.
"There's a rebellion? Here?"
Marrel's tone grew heavier, more urgent.
"They are sickness wrapped in courage. Rot painted as rebellion."
"And if you... any of you... hear whispers of spellcraft, of symbols or strange rites, you are commanded to speak."
"Your silence is a betrayal. Your words are the cure."
A boy near the front repeated the final line aloud.
"Your words are the cure."
Others murmured it, like a refrain. Like they believed it would protect them.
Sevi's fingers twitched.
"He's trying to turn them into informants."
"He already has," Zee replied.
Zee watched the priest close the book with care. The flame on his staff pulsed once, then steadied.
"Bendragon does not borrow power," Marrel said. "He is power."
The crowd bowed their heads in unison. No hesitation. No doubt.
Zee turns to leave..
Sevi didn't follow right away.
She stayed near the edge of the square, fingers flicking once beneath her sleeve... no gesture, no
chant. Just enough.
Behind Marrel, unseen by him but clear to the crowd, a sun formed... luminous, vast, radiant... at first.
The crowd gasped. Some fell to their knees. Others covered their mouths. A few wept openly.
Then the halo... changed.
The center of the sun cracked, revealing a dark void within. The rays curled inward instead of outward. A single eye blinked once from the center... and vanished.
The illusion collapsed into light, then nothing.
A hush fell over the people.
Marrel never noticed.
He believed the tears, the silence, the awe... were for him.
"Truth," he whispered, "does not need to be loud."
Sevi turned and walked back toward Zee and Torren.
"That should keep them awake tonight," she said softly.