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“Kit…” It was more of a growl than a name.

Despite everything, despite my battered body, painful limbs, the chains and collar that chafed my skin, and the certainty of my approaching interrogation and death, I almost smiled. It reminded me of all of them together on horseback, headed to the mountains to claim their phoenixes, having bantered and bickered their way there. Lex being the worst of them all.

When I tripped again, Kit bent and picked me up. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and in pain, I would have protested. Instead, I rested my head against his shoulder and allowed the night to take me.

The tunnel pulsed around us the further we travelled into the mountain. Not enough for the others to notice, perhaps, but it called to my blood. A rhythm deep beneath the stone reaching for my bones. It was real magic.

The tunnel widened again ahead of us before splitting into three separate paths. Strange symbols glowed above each opening, just as they had in the workshop, and my pulse hammered as I recognised one.

The same marking from the codex. The phoenix symbol hidden beneath the rewritten pages.

Torran noticed. “What do you see?”

“That symbol.” My voice came out rough. “It’s… nothing.”

Kit paused. “You see it? That doesn’t make sense, only we…” Then he recovered himself. “Lots of old symbols in old places.”

“That one was hidden,” muttered Torran. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of me.

He would work it all out soon.

What I had kept hidden, even from Aster, for so very long.

“Keep going,” Torran said quietly. Perhaps he was waiting until the interrogation to get information out of me.

The tunnel narrowed sharply after that, and the temperature dropped low enough that my breath misted in front of me. Frost crept across the walls in delicate silver patterns that resembled feathers.

After some time, I told Kit I could walk. And then we walked for hours. Or perhaps minutes. Time did strange things in the FootPaths, but I sensed that we were getting close to the border.

Every kingdom had its horrors, but the Northlands were different. The Barren liked spectacle and public punishment. The Northlands preferred people to vanish.

Torran finally stopped near a narrow bridge, crossing one of the underground rivers. “Rest here,” he said to Kit, “I’ll see what’s happening on the other side.”

He laid Aster down with a gentleness I’d never seen in him, and Aster grabbed his arm as he was about to walk away. “You have to do it.”

“No. But she’s made it so that the Barren have an excuse to enter my lands, and that’s… an issue.” His gaze flickered to me. “She’ll have to be held now. You know it.”

I expected Aster to argue for my freedom as I would have argued for him, but he nodded and closed his eyes. There was so much they weren’t telling me, but then, I had my own secrets.

I sank carefully onto the stone next to him as exhaustion hit me all at once. My entire body throbbed with bruises and cuts. Dried blood cracked painfully against my skin every time I moved.

“So there are FootPaths that lead right into the Northlands Prison?” I’d assumed they had all been destroyed.

Kit crouched nearby, resting his forearms against his knees while studying me too carefully. “You’re not surprised by their existence? You have an amulet…” He pointed to my neck. “I’d have taken it off you, but you’re not leaving with him like that, are you? Only some of that is a glamour…” He was trying to get me talking, but it would take a lot more than a few observations. “You’re handling this suspiciously well. As if you expected it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m used to survival.” I nodded towards Aster’s back. His breathing was strangely even. “I was taught by the best.”

Torran had opened another FootPaths door, and beyond it was another corridor. “We’re here.”

Every single flame in the cavern flared to life, and the burn in my shoulder exploded into unbearable heat.

The Tenth Night of Yule

— The First Flame

On the tenth night, the small ember that was buried beneath ash catches a gust of air. Man rarely fears a small flame. It can so easily go unnoticed. But even a silent flicker of light can illuminate the truth. Truths survive, not because they were protected, but because they were never really extinguished.

Beware the flame that seeks your touch, for they are coming for you and they will soar.