Court of Salt Judgment

Elara had never heard silence quite like this.

Not the silence of water, which hummed soft and constant in her ears ever since she’d arrived beneath the sea. Not even the silence of being alone, drifting. This was different. Heavy. Pressed down like the weight of the ocean itself.

She stood at the edge of the Pearl Passage, a tunnel of living coral that glowed faintly in rhythmic pulses. Ahead, the great chamber of the Sea Elders waited—one of the oldest places in the realm. Only those summoned by divine mandate ever entered.

She had not asked to be summoned.

Dravion floated beside her, expression unreadable. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the reef village. Not when Kaelen had tried to follow her and was turned away by the guards. Not even when her hand trembled slightly, brushing the edge of her robe.

Not my protector today, she realized.
Today, she was alone.

Two guards with scale-etched armor gestured for her to move forward. She did, forcing herself through the silent passage, every heartbeat echoing louder than the sea.

The chamber opened like a mouth. Great columns of shell and crystal spiraled toward a vaulted ceiling where jellyfish lanterns drifted, casting pale blue light in slow-moving waves. At the far end, seated on raised platforms carved from black pearl, were the Elders.

Seven in total. None smiling.

Elder Mareth sat at the center, robes shimmering with woven tide-thread, his face marked by age and authority. The others flanked him — some stoic, some curious, one outright scowling.

A hush settled as she approached. No whispers. No murmurs. Just… watching.

Then, Mareth spoke.
“Elara of the above world. Marked by light beneath your shoulder. You have seen the Pools. You carry a pet that glows in sacred presence. You are not one of us… yet the sea has not rejected you.”

His voice rang with something ancient, almost incantation-like.

Elara lowered her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m here. I didn’t ask for the mark. I didn’t ask for visions.”

One of the Elders, a woman with scales at her throat, narrowed her eyes. “Yet the sea answers you. The Pools whispered. The creature follows.”

“She is only a girl,” another muttered.

“A girl,” Mareth echoed slowly, “who triggered the memory pool… and emerged still breathing. That alone defies what we know.”

Elara’s chest tightened. “I saw my parents. They were calling to me.”

“And the mark pulsed?” Mareth leaned forward.

“Yes.”

A silence.

Then one Elder whispered, almost to himself, “Nirith Fire…”

The name struck her like a current. She didn’t know what it meant, but her mark flared faintly under her robes, and her skin turned cold.

Elara looked up sharply. “What did you say?”

He didn’t repeat it.

Instead, Mareth raised a hand, and a soft chime echoed through the water — ancient magic resonating in coral strands.

“The Court of Salt Judgment recognizes that her presence is unprecedented. The sea stirs. But we do not yet know… if it stirs for salvation, or for ruin.”

At that, several Elders shifted. One stood.

“With respect, I request we seek another solution,” the elder snapped. “We do not gamble the fate of three realms on a girl who fell from above!”

Another nodded. “We have warriors. Seers. Summoners—”

“She faced the memory tide and did not break,” Mareth interrupted. “That earns her judgment, not exile.”

A low murmur ran through the chamber now. Faint tension rippled the water.

Dravion remained near the entrance, arms folded. His eyes never left her.

She looked at him once, hoping for a word of support. But his jaw was set, and his silence cut deeper than the Elders’ doubt.

“Elara,” Mareth said, “you will undergo a Trial. Not one of strength, but of truth. You will pass through the Vision Gate. If you emerge intact, then the sea will speak for you.”

Elara swallowed. “And if I don’t?”

“You will not need to worry about the mark again.”

A chill passed over her skin.

---

When she was finally dismissed, Dravion moved toward her wordlessly. He didn’t speak until they were beyond the coral archways, Kaelen swimming quickly to her and curling around her wrist, glowing faintly.

Kaelen had swum in restless loops outside the court, his fins flickering brighter with each raised voice, as if sensing something Elara couldn’t name.

“You did well,” Dravion said softly, eyes still distant.

“I didn’t say anything useful,” she whispered.

“You didn’t need to. You were seen.” He paused, as if uncertain, then added, “Not many would have stood like that before the Seven.”

She looked down at Kaelen. “They think I’m dangerous.”

“They think you’re… something not seen for a very long time.”

Elara lifted her gaze. “What is Nirith Fire?”

Dravion’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was barely a whisper now.
“A name… lost in the drowning of heaven. Don’t speak it loudly.”

She didn’t.

But as they returned to her coral dwelling, and the sea resumed its quiet lull, one thing clung to her like seaweed:

The Trial would be more than a test.
It would be a doorway.
And she had no idea what waited on the other side.