His eyes glide over my mouth, lingering until his throat moves with a tight swallow—the only sound in the charged air.Then his gaze travels back to mine.
“You are a prisoner of Auria.You have no right to ignore a soldier of the court.You do not get to demand questions, or seek answers.”His temple pulses with radiating anger.“If the Luminaries choose to let you rot here, they will.And when they are done, you will be ash like the rest of your kind.”
“Mykindhave faced the Cleansing for a hundred years,” I spit.“We know suffering.We’ve endured it, and we continue to do so.What doyouknow of it?”
He leans closer, teeth bared, creases forming on his brow.“More than you know.”
My chest rises and falls in short, shallow gasps.
“Phase two will commence.You’d best be ready, because I’m not waiting any longer.”
“And phase two is what exactly?”
His fingers flex at his side; his eyes remain pinned on me like an anchor.My hand finds its way up to my wrist, rubbing the area beneath the manacle where his grip still burns.
Finally, with a swift shake of his head and a readjustment of his arms behind his back, he says: “I guess only time will tell.”
“Great.”My voice is as flat as Yara’s cutting board.
He doesn’t rise to the barb.Instead, his gaze slides to the wrist I’m still nursing.He gives a slight turn of his head, a squint of his eye, before his stare trails down the rest of my body.
“The guards will be here soon.But, don’t worry, there won’t be a repeat of yesterday’s subjection—at least, not that I’m aware of.”
His face is but a mask, but the light in his eyes sparkles with a malicious edge.
* * *
A thunderous bangat the door has me wincing.Kael moves toward the sound, pressing a palm to the runes.They glow softly, refracting against the glass in his spectacles.
Two guards, draped in horrifyingly beautiful silver and gold plate, cross the threshold.The weight of chains becomes a rock sinking to the bottom of an ocean I’ve never seen.
Since I’ve been here, no guards have transported me.Why now?
Their eyes never leave me.They stare as if I’m a weapon hung on a wall, ready for strike at any moment.
The corridor is colder this morning; the warmth I felt yesterday is a memory.Metal footsteps clink, echoing against the marble.We leave the grand halls for narrow ones, where stone turns to limestone, then raw rock.The deeper we go, the more the light becomes a rumour.
My heart beats wildly, flashes of Riven and the rod seared into my mind as if the metal were still beneath my skin.Breathing in the chalky dust, I try to will the knot in my chest to untangle.
“Stop doing that,” Kael says, swivelling his head to meet me.
“Doing what?”I bite back.
He tips his chin toward the floor, where my shadows have pooled around my boots—slick as oil, writhing in place.The runes on the walls glow softly in the dark; the shadows recoil, creeping back to my edges, as patient as breath.
“I’m not doing anything,” I say, watching a black tendril coil around my leg.
He shakes his head as if clearing a momentary lapse of judgement.
We stop at a door taller than the last.Its runes hum as we approach, low and unfriendly.I can be unfriendly too.Kael raises his palm, unlocking the mechanisms with a probe of light.Cold air pours out, threaded with incense and the bite of metal.
This chamber is larger than yesterday’s; circular again, but the vaulted ceilings rise like ribs of stone aching toward a central bloom of instruments.A chandelier of lenses and glass discs, etched with light-script, hangs suspended like a frozen constellation.
We are so far underground; how can these rooms be so vast?I’m both in awe and disgusted by the prosperity built upon the demise of my people.
Behind a lattice of translucent panels stand the three Luminary scholars.Their faces are obscured by masks that match their drab, brown robes.
My breath hitches as Riven comes into view.His eyes don’t just narrow; they harden into a cold, glittering stare as his lips press together in a thin, humourless line.
