Page 97 of She Who Was Severed

I step back. My boots leave prints in a fine ash I don’t remember seeing before. The cobbles glow faintly where glyphs broke. The air smells like cracked stone and whatever burns when guilt catches flame.

Two bodies are still. One groans. Another is missing too many teeth to answer questions.

I’m still standing.

The Chain curls back around my wrist, not tight. Not aggressive.

Waiting.

They wanted someone they could cage.

They got me.

No more mercy.

No more hesitation.

I turn toward the mist and walk, boots cutting through steam and ruin.

And the Chain walks with me.

- x -

Kellen

The air shears sideways as we break through the cloudline. I don’t hear it. I feel it—across my jaw, behind my eyes, along every tendon that’s stayed too tight for too long. The dragon’s wings cut wide beneath me, still trailing heat from the climb. She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t offer. She already knows where we’re going.

Virelle sprawls beneath us. Clean lines. Coin-bright towers. A city carved from its own ego. From up here, it looks small. Smaller than it deserves.

They haven’t seen us yet.

Good.

That’s their last mercy.

The Tribunal dome glints like it thinks it matters. The Ministry squats in the center, thick and smug. The Chancellor’s library stretches its long shadow over the Severed quarters like that’s enough to hide them. I scan it all. I don’t count the towers. I don’t have to.

I shift in the saddle. No reins. Never needed them. Just one hand on the ridge of her neck, just enough to sync breath and bond. Her pulse hums against mine—steady, waiting.

I’m not angry.

I passed angry hours ago.

Now I’m just clear.

The wind loops over my shoulders, dragging heat through what’s left of my coat. It’s already half-burned, shredded at the seams. Doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to land with it on.

“Now,” I say.

She drops.

The descent is clean—silent in a way that feels worse than noise. The moment her mouth opens, the silence ends.

The roar splits the sky.

It knocks something loose in my spine. Below, motion ripples through the city. Heads tilt. Hands rise.

They always look up.