Page 75 of She Who Was Severed

“Still breathing?” she says, casual like it’s a greeting. She tosses me a waterskin without looking.

I catch it with fingers that don’t feel like mine. “Barely.”

She doesn’t push. Doesn’t press. Just nods and turns away.

Whatever I just survived, it’s not the end of something.

It’s the beginning.

The Chain hasn’t spoken since.

But I can feel it waiting.

And it’s not done.

- x -

We take the long route back from the ruins. Not because we’re being careful—because neither of us wants to talk.

Vale walks two paces ahead, jaw tight, hands shoved deep into her coat like that’ll hold something in. I don’t press. The Chain’s quiet now, almost eerily so, like it’s folded in on itself to give us space. Or maybe it’s just waiting. Same as me.

We slip into the shell of a building near the market’s edge. There’s a note tucked into the side of the broken doorframe. Vale grabs it, drops her pack without a glance and shrugs out of her coat like it offends her. It hits a pile of rags. Her weapons follow, one by one—too fast, too precise.

I lean against a cracked beam. “You alright?”

She doesn’t answer until the second blade’s down. Then she sinks to the floor, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“You want to know why I’m really here.”

My mouth opens, then shuts.

She nods, unsurprised. “You remember Bram?”

“How could I forget.”

“I stole from him.” Her voice is low now, but not soft. “Took a map. And coin. Enough to get here.”

“To Ashmere,” I echo.

Vale meets my eyes. “There’s a priest here. One of the black-market ones. A Severed. They say he can… fix it. Graft a new bond.”

I stare at her. “You want your bond back.”

She nods, the movement tight. “Not just want. I need it. This—” she gestures at her chest, her limbs, herself “—this isn’t living. It’s limping. I can’t do it anymore, Freya.”

“And you think this priest can do what the City priests can’t?”

“I think it’s a risk,” she admits. “But it’s the only one I’ve got left.”

I don’t say anything at first. I just feel the Chain stir faintly beneath my ribs, like it’s listening too. Quiet. Curious.

Vale glances at me. “You think it’s stupid.”

“I think it’s desperate.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

She scrubs a hand over her face and stands. Unfolds the paper she pulled from the doorframe earlier. “I’ve been asking around,” she says, already heading for the door. “Got a solid lead. You in?”