They called it a Tribunal. Zara called it theater.The amphitheater had been carved from moonstone and memory—an ancient place of judgment used only when the Balance itself was in question. Today, for the first time in centuries, it opened not for a war criminal, not for a king, but for a child.Elira sat at its center, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, her eyes glowing dimly with a light no sun had ever cast. Around her, six thrones hovered in a circle—one for each race bound to the Accord: Witch, Wolf, Vampire, Fae, Shade, and Human. The seventh throne, once reserved for the gods, remained empty.Zara stood just beyond the circle, silent, tense. Kael’s ghost-fire lingered in her chest like a second pulse. Ruby paced near the outer arch, sword sheathed but ready.The High Speaker began the rite. “Let the Flameborne be seen.”A hush fell over the gathered hundreds. The Tribunal had drawn watchers from every realm—some to see history, some to ensure it didn’t repeat, others to jud
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