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Lance spiralled upward to the ceiling and dove towards the ring. Wood splintered as he smashed through it.

Idonea’s gaze darted to the door, waiting, but no Templar burst through. She hauled the hatch up and followed him down into the space, easing the trap door shut behind her.

“You should wait here until it is safe,” Idonea said.

Lance flew around Lysander’s work benches. Idonea turned her attention to the passageway that led to the hatch into Alcaeus’s study. Had that been locked too?

She headed towards Alcaeus’s hatch, avoiding looking towards the hidden room.

A voice carried faintly through the wood. Her father’s.

Idonea froze, her hand hovering just short of the iron latch.

“… could happen under your watch,” the Grand Templar said, his tone sharp and measured. “Elzhbeta should've remained shackled.”

“That choice was not mine,” Alcaeus replied. “If what you say is true, then she was responsible for the daemon attacks.”

“She was attempting something,” the Grand Templar continued, voice tight. “The sigils were daemonic in nature. But whatever it was, it drew attention. Something other than that daemon is out there.”

Idonea pressed herself flatter against the wall, heart hammering. Lance coiled at her feet, hissing.

“No human killed Elzhbeta?” Alcaeus asked.

The Grand Templar’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No human. Perhaps a witch. A Riven?”

“Idonea was confined to her cottage. It was not her.”

There was a long silence. Idonea held her breath, every nerve alive.

“Ensure the site is cleansed,” the Grand Templar said. “We will attempt to draw the daemon out tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Brother,” Alcaeus said.

The Grand Templar exhaled, a low, tense sound. “Good. Then we proceed.”

A set of footsteps receded. Idonea let out a deep breath.

If the Grand Templar was going to draw the daemon out, did that mean Lysander was back already?

She glanced down at Lance, who nudged her leg. She drew a hand across her face. “We have work to do,” she whispered.

She crept back towards her own hatch, every step cautious. She pushed it up just enough to slip through. Before she could stop him, Lance slithered through. The cottage was quiet, as was outside.

Her eyes drifted to the Lodamante encasing her prison, its dull metal pulsing faintly with the Eitr that strangled Current. Like standing beside a sleeping beast. It sat above her like a challenge.

She started with the door. It was the only segment in easy reach. She wouldn’t dismantle half the cottage, not yet.

Idonea knelt before it, fingers trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. She drew her dagger and pressed the blade to her wrist. Warm blood welled instantly. She caught it in her palm and smeared it across the cold metal. The Lodamante drank the heat greedily, but no Current seeped through in return.

Lance fluttered his wings beside her, nervous or impatient, it was hard to tell with dragonkin.

“Come on,” she said.

She dipped two fingers into the trickle of blood along her arm, then reached for her satchel. Blood was never enough alone. Blood opened, but ash bound, salt sharpened, and bone dust stabilised.

She sprinkled a pinch of bone dust across the blood smear, watching the pale grit cling to the crimson streaks. She dragged the mixture into sigils, old ones, from Nellith’s teachings, the kind that burned rather than glowed.

Nothing, not even the faintest nibble of Current from the other side. The Lodamante remained blank, cold, stubbornly untouched.