He slid in beside me just as the doors sealed shut, his presence both maddening and—strangely—less terrifying than the silence Phoenix had brought.
“Always room for one more,” Leo added with a wink.
As the doors hissed shut behind us, the chamber shuddered to life. I felt it lurch—then drop. Down, down, down. My stomach twisted with the motion, and I gripped the railing, knuckles white. It felt like we were sinking into the bowels of the earth.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to breathe through the rising panic. Every second trapped in that tiny space with two beings who radiated power like heat off a forge was a second too long. Their magic pressed against my skin, thick in the air, like I was standing between two thunderstorms just waiting to break.
Please, just let this be over soon.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity carved into moments, the chamber slowed. The motion stopped. The doors slid open with a soft mechanical sigh.
I released a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Not a fan of tight spaces, huh?” Leo asked, his voice soft for once as he watched me carefully, his grin tempered with something else—concern, maybe, or curiosity.
Before I could answer, Phoenix gave me a none-too-gentle nudge and I stumbled forward into a new space.
The corridor was long and narrow, the air cold enough to bite. Shadows pooled in the corners, thick and watchful. The stone walls pressed in on either side like the teeth of something ancient.
Ah. This was more like it.
The dungeons.
I straightened slowly, swallowing the fear that rose in my throat like bile. My slippers slapped on the stone as we walked. Above me, the ceiling loomed low and oppressive, and I cast a quick glance up at it, as if some divine force might reach down and offer mercy.
The space felt heavy. It weighed me down.
For the briefest second, I imagined Finn beside me—his hand in mine, his steady presence like a shield. But then I pushed the thought away. I was glad he wasn’t here. This was my punishment for my failure. Whatever this was… I deserved to face it alone.
They brought me here to break me.
And maybe—just maybe—they would.
The corridor ended at a reinforced steel door, and I saw the massive figure of Slade waiting outside. The door surface was etched with strange runes that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Phoenix stepped aside as it creaked open, the sound too loud in the tense silence.
I stepped through on my own.
The room was bare—stone walls, a metal table bolted to the floor, two chairs. One was empty.
The other was not.
Thorne sat in it like he owned the world. Elbows braced on the table, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp gaze slicing right through me the moment I entered. His presence filled the space, cold and crushing. His magic slithered out in thin, invisible tendrils that brushed against my skin like cold fingers.
I stopped dead.
Slade followed us in, silent as a shadow, and took up position by the closed door. He crossed his arms and leaned back, blocking the only exit like a stone wall with a pulse.
“Sit,” Thorne said.
Just that. One word. Flat, empty.
I considered staying on my feet just to spite him—but the look in his eyes told me this wasn’t the moment to pick a fight. So, I sat, spine straight, chin lifted, pretending I had more courage than I did.
“I want to make something very clear,” Thorne said, his voice smooth and sharp as a knife’s edge. “I don’t care about your lies. I don’t care about your sob stories. I’m not here to be your friend, or your enemy. I’m here for the truth. And Iwillget it.”
“I already told Phoenix,” I said, my voice shaky, “I’m nobody. I have nothing to offer.”
“Then this will be very quick,” Thorne replied, almost pleasantly. “But I don’t think you’re nobody. See…” He leaned forward, and the air in the room grew heavy. “Shadowmancers don’t justappearin my city. They don’t live like rats in hovels, then explode into smoke within the warded walls of the keep.”
