The Crown Of Ash and Silver
She could feel it like heat on her skin.
“Elysia,” she said softly.
The wind outside the monastery howled.
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The High Cathedral of Valoria was alive with firelight and chanting.
Hundreds of candles burned along the nave, their flames rising in perfect lines. Gold draperies shimmered against marble walls, and the air smelled of incense and iron. At the heart of it all stood Elysia, her gown white as frost, her wrists bound with ribbons of light.
The High Cleric read from an ancient script, his voice carrying through the chamber. “By the will of the Radiant One, we sanctify her flesh and open her soul, that the Light may dwell within.”