What else hadn’t he told her? What else didn’t she know? As Justice took them out into a series of gardens, Violet saw Stewards and janissaries working side by side tending the plants and the soil, sharing the menial tasks of the Hall. She realised that she was seeing traditions that had been carried out in just this way for hundreds of years. An entire world hidden away, that no one on the outside would ever see.
Especially not a Lion.
Justice pointed out the armoury and then the stables and told Will that later he might visit his horse. But Violet barely heard him, overwhelmed by the realisation that she and Will were the first to witness any of it, to breathe the air, to taste the food … Stewards had lived and died here over centuries, following their rules, keeping traditions alive when no one else knew they were here.
‘Why do you do all of this? Why not live a normal life outside the walls?’
Justice smiled – not an unkind smile, but a smile of acknowledgement, as if she had asked him the most important question.
‘Look up,’ said Justice.
High above them on the battlements burned a brilliant beacon, its flames reaching impossibly high into the sky. She had seen it blazing in the dark last night, when she had passed through the gate with Justice.
The Final Flame.
‘Magic sustains it,’ said Justice. ‘Magic from before our time. From a distance, it looks like a bright star burning in the sky. The symbol of the Stewards.’
Looking up at it, she imagined she could feel the heat of its flame. As she did, Justice came to stand beside her.
‘The Flame is our purpose,’ said Justice. ‘When the Dark King swore to return, we swore to prevent it, no matter how long our Order had to stand at the ready. We have kept that vow for centuries, holding the knowledge of the old world, quashing his Dark objects where we find them, and preparing for the day when we would fight. In that way, we keep the Flame alight.’
As she looked at the Flame, she imagined the Stewards of the old world swearing that vow. Had they known what it would mean for their descendants? That they would live apart from the world for centuries, waiting for a day that might never come? Generations of Stewards, rising each morning to their mission, holding to their traditions, living and dying while the Dark King lay silent?
‘Outside, the world sleeps like an innocent who is not afraid of the dark,’ said Justice. ‘But in here we remember. What has come before will come again. And when it does, the Stewards will be ready.’
Like a single flame burning, they had carried light of knowledge across the centuries. The Undying Star, the Elder Steward had called it. The Final Flame. But the spark of light that the Stewards had tended all these years was even more fragile than she had thought.
If the Stewards had ever faltered, ever allowed themselves to drift from their mission, the past would have faded out of memory, and the Dark King could have returned to an unknowing world.
No one would have seen him coming. No one would have known how to stop him.
The past would have risen to overwhelm the present, and all the battles fought, all the lives given to defeat the Dark King, would be as nothing. He would rise again, and all he had to do was wait, until the world forgot him.
That thought stayed with her.
‘Now come,’ said Justice. ‘I will show you the heart of the Hall.’
They entered the great hall through its giant doors. What had been a vast, torchlit cavern by night was by day transformed into a cathedral of light. Sunlight streamed in from high windows, creating huge beams of light that reflected off the many white columns, like a dazzling forest of white trees rising high and bright.
Violet saw the four empty thrones high on the dais. Now that she had a sense of the history of this place, she wondered for the first time about the figures who had once sat there. The Hall of Kings, the Elder Steward had called it.
‘What happened here?’ Violet said, looking around at the magnificent structures of stone. ‘How did this place survive when everything else was lost?’
Justice followed her gaze up to the empty thrones. Each one was different, and carved with a unique symbol. A tower; a faded sun; a winged serpent; and a flower she had never seen before.
‘Long ago, there were four great kings of the old world,’ said Justice. ‘The Hall was their meeting place, a nexus of sorts. But as the Dark King rose, the four kings faltered. Three made a bargain with the Dark King and were corrupted, and the fourth fled, his line lost to time. It was the Stewards of the four kings who stood against the dark in their stead, part of the great alliance who joined the final fight.’