The galleries fell silent. The brass light in Vethis’s eyes flickered, dimmed, then flared bright gold.
The wind tasted of rust and burnt sugar. That was the first sign Venn had crossed into Skaafin territory.
“I can’t,” he said, but his voice was small. DV-s The Skaafin Prize
Each memory carved him open again.
And then he understood.
“You reject the Prize,” the Proctor said slowly, “by accepting the weight you already bear. That is… unprecedented.”
“You came.”
He stepped aside. Behind him, a door of white light opened onto Venn’s own world—the salt flats, the dawn, the air clean and free.