Ellie’s hands were still trembling as she turned away from the altar, the pendant’s cold weight burning like a brand against her skin. She clutched the flint in one hand, feeling its rough edges press into her palm, a small anchor in the darkness. But her mind was spinning, frantic. She had to get back to the surface, before—

  Her fingers brushed against one of the vials, its surface slick and delicate. She reached out to steady it, but it slipped through her grasp, shattering against the stone floor with a sharp, crystalline ring.

  A low rumble answered the breakage, rising from the floor beneath her like the growl of a waking beast. The runes along the floor flared briefly, a sickly red glow that pulsed in time with the hum. Ellie froze, her breath caught in her throat. It was as if the whole chamber was drawing breath, then releasing it in a sudden rush of air that swept past her, up through the hidden passage, like a gasp of pain.

  Above her, the chanting faltered.

  “What have I done?”

  She threw herself toward the hidden entrance, desperate to climb back into the grand hall before anyone noticed. But the echoes of her blunder chased her, amplified by the ancient stones. She clawed her way up, her hands scraping against the edges of the marble as she heaved herself out of the opening.

  The scene that met her eyes made her blood run cold. Eloise stood on the platform, her hands still resting on the boy’s shoulders, but the glow that had surrounded them had dimmed, faltering like a candle fighting against a sudden draft.

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, spreading uncertainty like wildfire. The boy beneath Eloise stirred, his breaths turning shallow, his face twisting with sudden discomfort. Nearby, an elderly man who had been leaning on a crutch clutched at his chest, grimacing as if a sharp pain had struck him.

  “Hold him—something’s wrong!” a woman’s voice called out from the crowd, high-pitched with fear.

  Eloise’s eyes flicked open, her serene smile slipping for the first time into a look of strain. She squeezed the boy’s shoulders, her fingers digging in, as though she might force the light back into his body. But the light resisted, flickering unevenly, its rhythm shattered by the disruption from below.

  Her head snapped to the side, and her gaze locked on Ellie, half-crouched by the edge of the platform, panting for breath.

  Their eyes met. For a moment, time seemed to stretch between them, pulling tight like a thread about to snap. Eloise’s expression shifted, smoothing over into a mask of calm once more, but a shadow lurked beneath the surface—something colder, sharper. Her lips moved, barely perceptible, forming a single word.

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  “Fool.”

  Ellie flinched, stumbling backward. She tried to melt into the shadows beneath the columns, but the accusation in Eloise’s gaze cut through the dimness, pinning her like a butterfly on a collector’s board. Ellie’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic beat that filled her ears and drowned out the rising unease of the crowd.

  “She’s... she’s failing!” a voice exclaimed, and another joined in, lower, wavering with uncertainty. “What’s happened to the saintess?”

  Ellie shrank back, pressing herself against the marble column. Panic coiled tight in her chest, but beneath it, a thread of defiance wound through her thoughts. This is wrong. They deserve to know.

  Yet, as she glanced back at the sea of faces, she saw the desperate hope that clung to them, a hope so brittle that even the smallest doubt might shatter it. Many still watched Eloise with reverence, their eyes pleading with her to resume her miracle, to make everything right again.

  Some of the nobles stepped forward, calling out reassurances in steady voices. But there were others—Ellie caught a flicker of a frown, a whispered murmur, eyes darting uncertainly between Eloise and the faltering boy.

  The elderly man’s daughter reached for him, her face pinched with anxiety. “She was healing him—why did he get worse?”

  Eloise’s smile widened, but it did not reach her eyes. “Do not fear,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk, carrying through the hall with practiced grace. “It is a small disruption, nothing more. I will restore balance.” Her hands moved in a fluid gesture, drawing new sigils in the air, trying to reclaim the energy that Ellie’s blunder had scattered.

  Ellie swallowed hard, pressing her back against the cool marble, trying to steady her breathing. Her thoughts twisted and tangled, but one cut through, sharp and clear: She knows. She knows what I’ve seen.

  She edged away from the platform, trying to keep to the shadows as she made her way toward the far exit. Her legs trembled, every step unsteady, and yet she couldn’t afford to linger. If Eloise chose to expose her now, she would be trapped, surrounded by the loyal and the fearful.

  But as she reached the edge of the hall, she risked one last glance back. Eloise stood tall, the light beginning to pulse once more between her hands, but her gaze lingered where Ellie had been, her expression unreadable. And in that gaze, Ellie saw a promise—no, a threat, wrapped in silk.

  You’ll pay for this.

  Ellie slipped into the shadows beyond the hall, her breaths ragged, the weight of her mistake pressing down like the air in the hidden chamber below. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart, but the fear clung to her, thick and cloying.

  ‘I’ve made things worse,’ she thought, the realization a cold knot in her stomach.

  She cast one last look back at the grand hall, where Eloise’s light gleamed once more, covering the cracks that Ellie had forced open. Then she turned and disappeared into the palace corridors, the murmurs of the uneasy crowd fading behind her like a distant, fading tide.