Surrendered To The Lord Of Sin-Chapter 57: Trial of Severance

Morning arrived without warmth. The occasion of the day wasn’t one to ward off the harsh winter temperature.

Light filtered into Lucrezia’s chamber in pale bands, silvered by its high windows touching the edges of carved stone and dark wood. She lay awake long before the servants came, staring at the canopy above her bed while listening to the distant hush of Blackvale stirring itself awake.

Her body felt heavy, weighted by something more than fatigue and her limbs ached faintly, as though she had tensed through sleep rather than rested. Well, she hadn’t entirely relaxed.

Yesterday’s encounter lingered in her mind since the moment her consciousness returned. Lucrezia hadn’t been able to calm the restlessness buried deep within, drawn between what occurred at and after the banquet.

She could still recall the images like a clear picture in her mind. Regardless, above everything else, today was the Trial of Severance.

The words settled in her chest like a stone. Lucrezia didn’t know what terrified her the most: being surrounded by the presence of the lesser gods or being besieged by his, especially after what transpired last night.

When the knock finally came, it was measured in three soft taps, precise and practiced, breaking her out of her reverie. Before she could answer, the door opened, and the servants entered as they had the night before, moving in quiet unison after the woman who introduced herself as the one assigned to her chamber.

With a graceful bow, she said, "Good morning, Milady." Her tone was warm, and the others echoed the greeting with subtle inclinations of their heads.

Lucrezia returned a curt nod. "Morning," She replied with a cool but not unkind tone. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"We’re here to prepare you for the day," She said gently, stepping forward with a tray of brushes and linens. "If you would allow us, Milady, we shall see to your morning routine."

Lucrezia merely gestured for them to begin, settling into the ritual of her attendants’ practiced efficiency.

And so the wake of the morning began. Warm water was drawn into the deep, circular bath carved directly into the bedrock, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. The scent this time was different with something cleaner, and sharper. Juniper and something bitter beneath it that would be given off as a purifier. Or perhaps, symbolic, and she rose without protest.

Hands guided her gently, easing her night gown from her shoulders, and unpinning the fabric with care. Due to last night’s fatigue, she’d slept in the exquisite gown instead of changing into something lighter.

It was a miracle her ribs weren’t cracked from the tightness of the bodice that resembled the strength of whalebones. That was type Veximoor designed in the form of exquisite dresses, and she wondered if this was any less.

She stepped into the bath and inhaled sharply as warmth closed around her skin, loosening tension she had not realized she carried. However, the relief was only short-lived when they began to wash her slowly.

From her arms, her neck, and down her back. Her hair was unbraided and combed through with long strokes, their fingers careful around her scalp. Lucrezia kept her gaze fixed ahead, watching the steam blur the chamber’s edges, grounding herself in the sensation of water, of touch, and of breath as she was being prepared for what she did not know.

After the bath was over, they lifted her away from the basin, and immediately wrapped her in linen, drying her with reverent precision before the morning’s chill met her skin.

Another dress awaited her, laid out across the bed. And this time, it was different. And yet... not.

Nonetheless, her eyes shone in utter astonishment. Without further instruction, Lucrezia was fitted into the dress.

The cut echoed the gowns she had worn before with modest lines, long sleeves, and a fitted waist, but this one bore darker tones. Deep ash and muted silver, threaded subtly with patterns, designed with an ornamentation that caught the light only when she moved.

It made her look... deliberate. It didn’t appear vulnerable nor inviting, but contained, in such a manner that she felt it ceremonial.

A heavy and long coat followed, its lining warm against her skin, clasped at her throat with a simple fastening that bore no crest she recognized. The fur was designed around the neckline and the wrist of the sleeves, matched with gloves and finally fitted with a warm boot.

When they were finished, they stepped back as one and Lucrezia stood alone again, staring at her reflection.

Her brown hair was neatly clasped with delicate pins, each one holding a small part of her carefully arranged self. The long, heavy coat she wore draped over her shoulders with weighty elegance, contrasting with the pale gloves encasing her hands and the polished boots that completed the ensemble. The overall effect was unmistakable; she looked every bit the lady her title demanded, poised and composed, yet carrying a subtle air of authority that no fine clothing could conceal.

Again, the weight of her sister, Anastasia, clung deep into her bones.

Breakfast was brought shortly after. It was simple, and grounding as expected. Bread still warm, fruit sliced carefully, tea that smelled faintly of herbs she could not name, but still tasted well. She ate slowly, forcing herself to finish despite the tightness in her stomach.

She needed the strength.

When she rose, the chaperones were already waiting. They were not like the guards she’d seen as they didn’t touch her. Despite the chill in the air, they seemed unaffected, adorned in their bare-chested garment. Her heart raced as they began to guide her to their destination.

The corridors they led her through were not the ones she had seen before. These halls were wider, their ceilings arching high above her, supported by columns carved with reliefs that told stories she could not read; figures in conflict, forms splitting and reforming, and light severed from shadow.

The air changed as they walked, drawing her attention forward. For a while, they kept walking non-stop that her heart increased its pace in anticipation.

She’d never witnessed a duel before, never seen blades clash or felt the electric charge of combat slice through the air. She had only heard fragments whispered in corridors and the murmurs of those who had seen the trials firsthand, but the knowledge made her stomach knot tighter, and her palms itch for a stability she could not reach.

Finally, a distant sound shattered the stillness in the air, causing a slight tremor against the stone below her feet. Lucrezia’s eyes darted to the charperons and wondered if they were built the same way; unable to feel even the slightest sentiment around them. Were they also lesser gods, or servants designed as unruly in the eyes of the gods?

She tore her gaze when she felt that subtle pressure again, like stepping into deep water. Her ears rang faintly, and she steadied her breathing, keeping her steps measured.

At last, the passage opened and snow fell in a slow, unending descent. It drifted through the open expanse of Blackvale’s great amphitheater, settling along the stone tiers and gilded carvings. Lucrezia felt the cold sink into her bones the moment the passage opened, despite her heavy coat.

The doors did not swing wide but parted inward, and the sound that followed was not the echo of hinges but the roar of voices that was thunderous, layered, and innumerable. The noise struck her full in the chest, stealing her breath as surely as a blow when her gaze settled on the thousands already filling with figures seated in sweeping arcs.

They shouted, laughed, called out in voices that rolled together into something almost alive. It was not celebration, not quite. It carried hunger, an anticipation sharpened to spectacle, and her steps slowed despite herself.

The cold air rushed in, threading beneath Lucrezia’s coat, raising goosebumps along her arms. Snowflakes brushed her lashes and melted there as the amphitheater stretched before her, vast and open to the winter sky, and its tiers rising like the ribs of some ancient beast carved into the mountain itself.