Cloaked Heart (Silent Moments Series: Book 3)

Chapter 14

 The throne room, usually a space of authority and decision, had been transformed into a sanctuary of remembrance and tradition for this sacred Grounder holiday. The air was thick with a sense of reverence as Lexa, surrounded by children and a handful of select onlookers, prepared to conduct the ceremony. Her voice was solemn and imbued with a sense of deep respect as she explained the significance of the ritual to us. "We light these candles to honor the Commanders before me, who live within me. Just as I will live in one of you," she intoned, her words bridging the past, present, and future.

As Lexa spoke, I observed the rapt attention of the children, their young faces reflecting a mix of awe and solemnity. My own understanding of Grounder traditions was limited, but the profound respect they held for their history and lineage was unmistakable. In the dimly lit room, the five candles stood as silent sentinels, each representing a past Commander. The flickering of the flames seemed to cast the shadows of those long gone around us, a visual reminder of the legacy and continuity of their leadership. As Lexa lit each candle, she solemnly recited the names of her predecessors. The reverence in her voice as she moved down the line of candles brought a hush over the room, a collective holding of breath in honor of those who had come before. When she finally reached her own name, there was a palpable sense of the present meeting the past, a convergence of time and memory. The ceremony, in its simplicity, held a beauty that transcended the usual pomp of Grounder rituals. It was a moment of connection, not just among those present, but with a lineage that stretched back through generations.

However, this moment of tranquility was abruptly shattered. The sound of yelling, distant at first but rapidly growing louder, echoed down the hallway. Heads turned in unison towards the disturbance, a collective sense of alarm rippling through the room. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and several Grounders charged in. The intrusion was jarring, a violent interruption to the sacredness of the ceremony. The tranquility of the moment was instantly replaced by tension, the air now charged with uncertainty and apprehension. Everyone in the room, including Lexa, turned to face the newcomers, bracing for what this unexpected disruption might mean. The children, moments ago a picture of solemn observance, now clung to each other, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. The candle flames flickered wildly, as if mirroring the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere.

The sudden and unexpected intrusion into the throne room, still imbued with the solemnity of the candle lighting ceremony, created an immediate sense of tension. The shout from one of the Grounders, his voice laden with urgency and expectation, pierced the air. "The Flame Keeper promised we would be heard," he declared, his words resonating with a sense of grievance and the demand for attention.

Lexa, visibly taken aback by the interruption, turned her focus sharply towards Titus. "Titus, what is this?" she demanded, her tone a mix of confusion and authority. Her eyes, usually so composed, now flickered with the hint of concern, a rare display of uncertainty from the usually unflappable Heda.

"Something you need to hear, Heda," Titus replied, his words cryptic yet laden with significance. He stood a step back, his expression serious, suggesting the gravity of what was about to unfold.

The room's atmosphere, already thick with tension, grew even heavier as the first Grounder knelt, an act of respect amidst the chaos. Another then pushed through the crowd, his movements forceful, clearing a path to reveal a prisoner in tow.

The sight of the prisoner made my heart skip a beat. "Octavia," I murmured, the name escaping my lips in a barely audible whisper. The revelation of her being held captive was a shock, a twist that added a deeply personal dimension to the already charged situation. Octavia's appearance in such a state, her hands bound, her expression a blend of defiance and weariness, stirred a mix of emotions within me. The throne room, a place of power and decision, had suddenly become the stage for a confrontation that was both political and painfully personal.