CHAPTER 83: HER CHAMPION [4]

Clip! Clop!

The wagon lurched to a halt, its wheels grinding against the cobblestones.

Before them rose a magnificent structure of white marble veined with gold, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens.

At the altar’s heart, a bright red-orange flame danced within a brazier carved in the likeness of a phoenix with outstretched wings, casting flickering shadows across the sacred ground.

The air itself seemed to hum with divine presence.

The wagon door creaked open, and a young man stepped down first.

He was draped in a black cloak that seemed to absorb the altar’s golden light, its edges trimmed with crimson threading that caught the flame’s glow like drops of blood.

Moments later, a soft hand reached for the edge, and a woman descended with the practiced grace of nobility

She wore a dark Crimson-red gown, layered in satin and trimmed with silver lace that curled around her sleeves like vines.

The bodice hugged her form with poised elegance, and a slim belt of black leather cinched her waist. A fitted jacket of midnight blue velvet adorned her shoulders, its high collar framing her elegant neck.

Her raven-black hair flowed freely down her back, contrasting starkly with her porcelain skin, and her emerald-green eyes scanned the site with a cold, discerning gaze.

Here’s the refined scene with Alaric given proper focus as the main character:

Together, they moved toward the altar’s entrance, their footsteps echoing against the sacred stones.

Alaric’s hand instinctively checking the sword at his side as they passed beneath the carved phoenix that crowned the doorway.

Inside, the altar’s interior was even more breathtaking, pillars of white marble stretched toward a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of divine judgment.

A figure approached them from the altar’s heart: an elderly man in robes of cream and gold, his weathered face kind yet commanding.

"Lady Selene," the priest said, inclining his head with practiced reverence.

"Welcome to Ashurael’s sacred ground." His eyes then turned to Alaric, and his expression shifted to one of respectful acknowledgment.

"And you must be young Lord Alaric. It is an honor to meet the new heir of House Glimor. May Ashurael’s flame guide you in wisdom."

Alaric straightened.

"The honor is mine, Father," he replied, his voice steady.

After a few more exchanged pleasantries, the priest’s said.

"Baron Varell and his family have already arrived. They await you in the Chamber." He gestured toward an archway. "Shall we proceed?"

Selene nodded.

Then together, the three of them moved through the archway into a circular chamber where five figures stood waiting.

Baron Varell Duskwood a tall man whose silver-streaked hair caught the firelight, his grey eyes cold as winter steel as they fixed upon the newcomers.

Beside him stood Baroness Mirenna, her golden-brown hair elegantly arranged, blue eyes sharp with barely concealed hostility.

Their son Caleb stood beside them, his jaws clenched as he saw them enter. The youngest, Livia, hung back slightly, her grey eyes darting nervously between the parties while her inky black hair framed a face that seemed to wish it could disappear entirely.

But it was the fifth figure that drew Alaric’s immediate attention, a cloaked form standing behind the Duskwood family, draped in black fabric devoid of any ornamentation.

Unlike Alaric’s own cloak with its crimson threading, this one seemed to swallow light entirely.

Alaric’s eyes narrowed as he studied the figure.

The elderly man stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of divine authority.

"We gather here in the name of Ashurael, the Divine Phoenix, Guardian of Truth and Flame. Baron Varell Duskwood has invoked the sacred right of Phoenix Trial against Lady Selene Glimor, claiming grievance against the honor of his bloodline."

He paused, letting the words settle in the charged air. "The terms, once set and accepted, cannot be undone save by mutual consent. The losing party shall be bound by divine law to fulfill the victor’s demands, lest their soul burn eternally in Ashurael’s cleansing fire."

All present nodded solemnly.

After several more exchanges regarding the sacred laws and procedures, the elderly priest gestured toward a stone archway.

"Come then. Let us proceed to the Trial Ground, where Ashurael’s judgment shall be witnessed."

They filed through the passage into a circular arena carved from the same white marble as the altar, its walls rising in tiered seating that had witnessed countless trials over the centuries.

The eternal flame burned at the arena’s center, casting everything in flickering gold and shadow. Ancient runes were etched into the floor, forming intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with divine energy.

The priest raised his staff, its phoenix-headed tip gleaming. "How do you wish to proceed with this trial?"

Selene turned toward Alaric, her emerald eyes meeting his with quiet confidence. "You ready, my dear nephew?"

Alaric said nothing at first, simply giving her a measured side-glance. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached up and pulled back his hood.

The firelight revealed features that commanded attention, striking crimson eyes that seemed to hold their own inner flame, contrasting sharply with hair as black as a moonless night, tousled by the wind, and a faded black scarf embroidered with a red thorn motif wrapped around his neck.

Selene gave a firm nod to the priest. "Alaric Glimor will serve as my champion."

The priest inclined his head solemnly.

But across them, Varell’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with barely suppressed rage. Beside him, Mirenna’s blue eyes flashed with fury, same could be said with Caleb.

But Livia?

Her grey eyes widened in shock as she stared at Alaric’s revealed features.

’Alaric?’

Her fingers curled instinctively around the teardrop-shaped pendant resting against her chest.

’Is that really you?’

Then the elderly man turned toward Baron Varell Duskwood.

"And how does House Duskwood choose to proceed?"

Varell gave a curt nod and gestured toward the hooded figure standing silently behind his family.

"He will be my champion. Asher."

The figure stepped forward, movements steady and deliberate. Then, with a single motion, he pulled back his hood, revealing a face that spoke of countless battles survived. The middle-aged man’s features were sharp and weathered, with calculating eyes that held no warmth, only a professional killer wearing the mask of civility.

Alaric’s gaze locked with his immediately, narrowing slightly. He said nothing, but alerted.

"Very well." The elderly man nodded, his staff tapping against the marble floor.

"Champions have been chosen. Enter the arena, and may Ashurael’s flame reveal the truth."

Both men stepped onto the sacred ground without hesitation, their footsteps echoing in the sudden hush.

High above, the seats lining the amphitheater began to fill with spectators to witness the blood-bound trial. Murmurs ran like a current through the crowd, the tension almost palpable.

Alaric stood tall, crimson eyes fixed forward. Across from him, Asher waited in still silence. They faced each other like statues. Neither flinched nor looked away.

Meanwhile, Selene and the Duskwood family took their positions in the elevated seats reserved for the trial’s principals.

Selene settled herself with practiced grace, though her fingers drummed once against the marble armrest.

Across from her, the Duskwood family arranged themselves like pieces on a chess board, Varell rigid with anticipation, Mirenna’s blue eyes sharp as blades.

Caleb visibly simmering with disdain. Livia, however, kept stealing glances toward Alaric, her thoughts unreadable.

Selene’s emerald gaze swept the crowd of onlookers

It paused, ever so briefly on a lone figure clad in a silver-hooded cloak, seated among the audience.

Her lips curved into a subtle smile.

Then, the announcer’s voice rang out...

"Begin."