Page 179 of Of Iron and Moonlight

The atmosphere itself felt starved of humanity. Bruised. Rows of narrow cells lined the walls, filled with tortured humans like the other blocks. But here the captives’ eyes burned too brightly. Fae color had flooded the iris, washing out the human tones entirely. The light in them throbbed faintly, fevered, as if something had been peeled back that should never have been exposed.

“She said it was only one corridor,” Elara murmured, recalling the woman’s words.

Gavriel stared blankly, understanding struggling to reach him.

“It may be nothing,” she added quickly. “But we’re here…”

She kept low and alert as she scanned each cell, refusing to let hope surge too soon.

Every prisoner bore the same ravaged look. Cheeks drawn tight over bone. Lips cracked. Eyes rimmed red, flickering with painful intensity, as though something inside strained against its own cage. Withdrawal hung in the air like a living thing.

Golden hair caught the violet light.

Elara slowed.

She sat slumped against the rear wall of a cell, head bowed. When she lifted her face, the glow in her eyes made Elara’s breath falter. Grey had been swallowed entirely by violent violet. Her features were hollowed by pain, but there was no mistaking her.

“Lorrain.”

The name broke apart in Elara’s mouth.

Lorrain winced as though the sound tugged at her physically. For a few heartbeats her gaze drifted unfocused. “Elara?” Her voice scraped thin. “Is that… you?”

Elara dropped to her knees before the bars. “It’s me,” she choked. “I found you.”

Her hands shook so fiercely she nearly missed Lorrain’s fingers as she thrust them through the narrow gap. Lorrain lurched forward on trembling limbs, collapsing what little distance remained. Their fingers locked tight. Letting go would crack something in both of them beyond repair.

“I’ve missed you,” Elara sobbed, pressing her forehead to Lorrain’s as much as the cold metal allowed. “I have searched for a way back to you since the day we were parted.”

Lorrain pulled back and pressed her cheek to Elara’s hand. “I kept dreaming you were here.” Her eyes slid closed as tears slipped free. “I think the draught may be playing tricks. I am not certain what is real anymore.”

“This is no dream,” Elara insisted, shaking her head fiercely. “And you are leaving with me. I am going to save all of us.”

Lorrain’s eyes opened again. The violet burned hard at the edges, but something familiar still fought beneath it. “Oh, Elara,” she whispered. “There is no saving me now…” Her gaze drifted briefly toward a far corner of the room. “You shouldn’t have come. If they catch you, they’ll—”

A convulsion seized her. Her fingers tightened painfully around Elara’s. Her jaw clenched as if she were bracing against a storm inside her veins.

Elara held on until the tremor passed. “Don’t say things like that,” she said, wiping tears away with her shoulder, unwilling to release Lorrain’s hands. She turned to Gavriel. “We need a way to open this. A key.”

He stood frozen in panic.

“Gavriel,” Elara pleaded. “Please help me.”

A creak sounded in the distance and Gavriel jolted, as if remembering himself—or as if adrenaline had finally struck. He scanned the door, the frame, the hinges. “They don’t use keys here,” he said hoarsely. “They open the locks with magic.”

“Kalaetzu’s chain had a key,” she shot back. “And the Niverna prison did.”

“Kalaetzu was bound in iron,” Gavriel said. “The Niverna cells were made of iron, built to contain fae. Iron disrupts magic.” He touched the pale alloy. “This isn’t iron.”

Elara leaned toward the hinges, thinking fast. “If magic is what keeps it secure, then the metal wasn’t forged to withstand being pried. They never expected brute force.”

Understanding flickered across Gavriel’s face. He scanned the chamber and spotted a long rod leaning against the far wall, forgotten among discarded tools. He dragged it upright, hauled it to the cell, and wedged the end against the hinge.

Lorrain scrambled back inside the cell. Elara braced herself against the bars and pushed beside him. Gavriel bore down with what little strength remained in his body. Metal shrieked. The sound ripped through the chamber, sharp enough to draw moans from nearby prisoners.

Nothing happened.

Lorrain’s eyes flickered wildly between them, fear trembling beneath fatigue.