The most frightening thing about Seralyne's voice—
was that it sounded exactly the same.
Soft.
Patient.
Kind.
The voice of a young woman who had spent dinner asking about distant worlds.
Who had laughed at Qaritas's stories.
Who had told him she hoped he would find Ayla.
Now—
that same voice waited beyond a locked door.
"Lord Q?"
He stared at the handle.
Behind him, Xheavend moved.
Not much.
A single step.
But Qaritas recognized the movement.
She was preparing to attack.
He raised one hand.
Wait.
Xheavend's eyes narrowed.
She didn't like the instruction.
But she stopped.
Qaritas looked toward Ylaris.
The solar Ascendant stood beside the window, his posture relaxed enough to appear casual.
It wasn't.
Qaritas had fought him.
He knew what that stillness meant.
Kysena remained beside Tavek.
The boy slept beneath his blanket, unaware that the adults around him were deciding whether the beautiful manor was about to become a battlefield.
Qaritas turned back toward the door.
"…It's rather late."
A soft laugh answered.
"Yes. I'm sorry."
A pause.
"I couldn't sleep."
Qaritas looked at the bracelet in his hand.
The two names.
The dried blood.
"Neither could we."
"Then perhaps we could talk."
He swallowed.
"About what?"
Another pause.
"Anything."
Her voice softened.
"I enjoyed our conversation."
Qaritas closed his eyes.
For one terrible moment, he remembered the gardens.
The lanterns.
Her smile.
Then I hope you find her.
He opened his eyes.
"Seralyne."
"Yes?"
He remembered the way she'd laughed when he complained about Ylaris.
The way she'd listened when he spoke about Ayla.
She hadn't interrupted.
Hadn't demanded explanations.
Hadn't looked at him as though his stories were impossible.
She'd simply listened.
And that—
had been nice.
Qaritas hated how much he'd appreciated it.
Because he wanted her to be exactly what she appeared to be.
A kind young woman.
A little lonely.
Curious about worlds beyond her own.
Someone who had invited strangers into her home because she genuinely enjoyed their company.
Perhaps she had noticed something suspicious.
Perhaps she was frightened.
Perhaps she had come to warn them.
He wanted to believe that.
Then her voice drifted through the door again.
"You can trust me, Qaritas."
His hand stopped above the lock.
Strange.
Seralyne had never asked him to trust her.
That was what had made trusting her so easy.
He looked down at Rhevan's bracelet.
The dried blood.
The evidence.
And suddenly—
the kindness beyond the door felt considerably less comforting.
"Where is Rhevan?"
Silence.
Not long.
Barely a heartbeat.
Then—
"Who?"
Qaritas stared at the door.
"Tavek's brother."
"Oh."
Her voice changed.
Not in tone.
In carefulness.
"Father is still looking into that."
"Is he?"
"Of course."
Qaritas looked at the bracelet.
"Then why did his bracelet arrive in a folder of transport records?"
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No startled breath.
No hurried explanation.
Only silence.
Then—
"May I see it?"
Qaritas felt his skin tighten.
He glanced at Xheavend.
She was staring at the door with an expression he had seen only a handful of times.
Cold.
Utterly cold.
Qaritas answered.
"No."
A pause.
"Why not?"
"Because it belongs to Rhevan."
"Of course."
Another soft laugh.
"How foolish of me."
Qaritas said nothing.
Then Seralyne spoke again.
"Perhaps Father can explain everything in the morning."
Qaritas looked toward the sleeping boy.
"No."
Silence.
"We'd like an explanation now."
For several seconds—
nothing happened.
Then—
"Very well."
Her voice was still kind.
"I'll fetch him."
Footsteps retreated.
Soft.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Qaritas listened until they disappeared.
Then he turned.
"…Nobody open that door."
Ylaris looked at him.
"That was already the plan."
"Wonderful."
Xheavend stepped forward.
"We're wasting time."
Qaritas looked at her.
"I know."
"People are down there."
"I know."
"Then let's go."
Kysena rose.
"First, we secure Tavek."
The boy stirred.
Blinking.
"…What?"
Everyone turned.
Tavek sat upright.
His hair was disheveled.
His eyes moved from face to face.
Then toward the bracelet in Qaritas's hand.
He froze.
"…Where did you get that?"
Qaritas's chest tightened.
"Tavek—"
The boy stood.
"Where?"
Qaritas held it out.
Tavek approached slowly.
As though he feared the object would disappear if he moved too quickly.
He took it.
Turned it over.
Saw the names.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then—
"Rhevan made this."
Qaritas said nothing.
Tavek rubbed his thumb over the little gear.
"He made two."
His voice shook.
"One for me. One for him."
He pulled back his sleeve.
A matching bracelet circled his wrist.
Older.
Smaller.
Repaired with the same uneven wire.
Qaritas stared.
Tavek looked up.
"…You found him?"
The question nearly broke something inside Qaritas.
He shook his head.
"Not yet."
Tavek's face crumpled.
"Then where did you get it?"
"From the transport records."
The boy stared.
Then—
"He's here."
Qaritas didn't answer.
Tavek looked toward the door.
"He's here."
He started forward.
Kysena caught his arm.
Gently.
"Tavek."
"No!"
He tried to pull away.
"He's here!"
"Tavek, listen to me."
"LET ME GO!"
His voice cracked.
"HE'S HERE!"
Kysena knelt in front of him.
"Tavek."
Her gray eyes held his.
"We are going to look for him."
The boy trembled.
"But you need to stay with me."
"No—"
"Please."
Something in her voice reached him.
Not authority.
Not command.
A plea.
Tavek looked at the bracelet.
Then at her.
"…Promise?"
Kysena hesitated.
Qaritas recognized why.
Promises were dangerous.
Especially when the person making them didn't control the outcome.
She answered carefully.
"I promise I won't abandon you."
Tavek began crying.
Again.
And Qaritas—
turned away.
Because he had a terrible feeling that finding Rhevan was going to hurt more than not knowing.
They left the guest room through the window.
Qaritas objected.
Not to the escape.
To the height.
"…There are perfectly good stairs."
Ylaris looked down at the gardens.
"And guards watching them."
"Yes, but the stairs don't require jumping from a third-floor window."
"You can regenerate."
"That's not the point!"
Xheavend climbed onto the sill.
In male form, she nearly struck her head against the upper frame.
Qaritas noticed.
She noticed him noticing.
"Not a word."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"You were thinking something."
"Several things."
"Keep them."
Then—
she jumped.
Qaritas leaned out.
Watched her land silently on the terrace below.
He blinked.
"…Show-off."
Ylaris followed.
Naturally, he landed just as gracefully.
Qaritas looked toward Kysena.
She held Tavek close.
"Ready?"
The boy stared at the drop.
"…No."
Qaritas nodded.
"Excellent. Neither am I."
Kysena smiled.
Then gathered Tavek into her arms and descended in a controlled fall, lunar light briefly shimmering beneath her feet.
Qaritas watched.
"…Oh, that's cheating."
From below, Ylaris called—
"Are you coming?"
Qaritas looked down.
Then toward the empty corridor behind him.
Then back.
"…I hate this family."
He jumped.
The estate gardens were quiet.
Too quiet.
The music had stopped.
The servants had disappeared.
Even the insects seemed subdued.
Qaritas landed beside a pool of steaming water.
Straightened.
Looked around.
And immediately noticed—
the lights.
Several windows in the western wing had gone dark.
Not gradually.
Not as though people were preparing for bed.
Entire sections of the manor had been extinguished.
Ylaris saw it too.
"They know."
Qaritas nodded.
"Yes."
Xheavend looked toward the rail tunnel.
"Then we stop wasting time."
They moved.
Past the gardens.
Past the heated pools.
Past rows of trees whose leaves glowed faintly in the darkness.
The western grounds were separated from the manor by a broad service courtyard.
Cargo lifts stood beside enormous storage buildings.
A private Emberrail track disappeared into the mountainside.
And at the entrance—
six guards waited.
Qaritas stopped.
"…Well."
Ylaris drew his weapon.
"Six."
Xheavend smiled.
"Only six?"
Qaritas looked at her.
"Please don't sound disappointed."
One of the guards raised a rifle.
"Halt!"
The others moved into formation.
Ylaris stepped forward.
"We need access to the transport facility."
"Restricted."
"Not anymore."
The guard aimed his weapon.
Qaritas sighed.
"…You could have simply opened the door."
The guard fired.
Ylaris moved.
A flash of gold crossed the courtyard.
The rifle broke in two.
The guard stared at the ruined weapon.
Then at Ylaris.
"…Oh."
Ylaris struck him.
The man fell unconscious.
Qaritas nodded.
"That was a very reasonable reaction."
The remaining guards attacked.
The fight lasted less than a minute.
Not because the guards were incompetent.
Because they were fighting four Ascendants.
And three of those Ascendants were becoming increasingly irritated.
Qaritas disarmed a Terravyn soldier and knocked him against a cargo crate.
Ylaris disabled two more.
Kysena restrained another with a narrow band of lunar light.
Xheavend—
caught the last guard by the throat.
Lifted him from the ground.
And stared into his face.
"Where are they?"
The man struggled.
"Who?"
Her grip tightened.
"The prisoners."
His eyes widened.
"I don't—"
Xheavend slammed him against the wall.
CRACK.
Qaritas stepped forward.
"Xheavend."
She didn't look at him.
"Where?"
The guard gasped.
"Below!"
Silence.
"Below the storage chambers!"
She held him there.
"How many?"
"I don't know!"
"How many?"
"Dozens!"
Qaritas felt his stomach turn.
The guard began crying.
"Please!"
Xheavend stared at him.
Then released him.
He collapsed.
She looked toward the tunnel.
And walked.
Qaritas followed.
But he couldn't forget the expression on her face.
Because he had seen it before.
In the tea chamber.
When Yzer had spoken.
When the past had reached through the present and put its hands around her throat.
Only now—
she wasn't frozen.
Now—
she was moving toward it.
The tunnel descended beneath the estate.
The deeper they traveled, the colder the air became.
Not naturally cold.
Artificially regulated.
Industrial machinery hummed behind the walls.
Pipes carried steam.
Ventilation shafts crossed the ceiling.
And somewhere far below—
something struck metal.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
Tavek flinched.
Kysena tightened her hold on his hand.
Qaritas looked toward the boy.
"Stay close."
Tavek nodded.
His face was pale.
They passed storage rooms filled with crates.
Vharite ore.
Cindersteel tools.
Aerolith components.
Barrels marked with Namaris trade seals.
Bundles of Cloudsilk.
Everything appeared ordinary.
Legitimate.
Expensive.
Then Qaritas noticed the numbers.
The weight markings.
The manifests.
The same discrepancies.
He approached a large cargo container.
Its exterior identified it as agricultural equipment.
He examined the locking mechanism.
Then the narrow ventilation slits hidden beneath its upper rim.
Qaritas went still.
"…Ylaris."
The solar Ascendant approached.
Looked.
His expression hardened.
"Open it."
Qaritas broke the lock.
The doors swung outward.
Inside—
there were no agricultural machines.
There were benches.
Metal restraints.
Empty water containers.
A blanket lying in one corner.
And marks along the walls.
Scratches.
Hundreds of them.
Some made by fingernails.
Others by something sharper.
Tavek approached.
"What is it?"
Qaritas turned quickly.
"Don't—"
Too late.
The boy saw.
His expression changed.
"…People were in here?"
Nobody answered.
He looked toward the restraints.
Then the water containers.
Then the scratches.
"…Rhevan?"
His voice was barely audible.
Qaritas closed his eyes.
Please.
Not this.
The first prisoner was found behind a locked medical-storage door.
A Vaelori woman.
Her translucent body had become cloudy from dehydration, the currents beneath her skin moving weakly.
She lay on a narrow bed.
Restraints circled her wrists.
Kysena rushed forward.
"She's alive."
Qaritas moved to the restraints.
Broke them.
The woman recoiled.
A terrible, instinctive movement.
She tried to crawl away.
Kysena stopped.
Raised both hands.
"You're safe."
The woman shook her head violently.
"No."
Her voice was almost inaudible.
"No, no, no—"
Kysena lowered herself beside the bed.
"I'm a healer."
The woman stared.
Kysena let a soft lunar glow gather around her palms.
"May I help you?"
For several seconds—
the prisoner didn't move.
Then—
she nodded.
Once.
Kysena touched her wrist.
A gentle current of moisture gathered around the woman's body.
The cloudy water beneath her skin began to clear.
Not completely.
But enough.
The woman gasped.
Then started crying.
Qaritas looked away.
He heard Xheavend approach.
"Who did this?"
The prisoner flinched.
Kysena looked up sharply.
"Xheavend."
She stopped.
The woman trembled.
"Please."
Xheavend went still.
The prisoner whispered—
"Don't send me back."
Something changed in Xheavend's face.
Her anger didn't disappear.
It became quieter.
She knelt.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And spoke in her deeper voice.
"No one is sending you back."
The woman stared at her.
Xheavend held out one hand.
Waited.
After a long moment—
the prisoner took it.
They found more.
A Terravyn man whose stone skin had been fractured by repeated blows.
An Aetheri woman kept in a sealed chamber where the air had been deliberately contaminated.
A Pyrathi man whose body had cooled so severely that the cracks across his skin barely glowed.
A young Vaelori soldier.
An elderly Terravyn merchant.
Two brothers from Aelthir.
A mother from Namaris who kept asking where her daughter had been taken.
Men.
Women.
Young adults.
Elders.
People from all four elemental races.
Some had been beaten.
Some starved.
Some deprived of the heat, moisture, minerals, or clean air their bodies needed to survive.
Several bore injuries that could only have been inflicted deliberately.
Others recoiled whenever a guard's uniform came into view.
Qaritas learned enough from their broken accounts to understand that the captives had suffered sexual violence as well as other forms of abuse.
He did not ask them to describe it.
They had already been forced to endure too much.
What mattered now—
was getting them out.
Kysena worked without stopping.
She moved from one prisoner to another, healing what she could, stabilizing those she couldn't, and asking permission before touching anyone who remained conscious.
Qaritas watched her kneel beside a Terravyn prisoner.
The man's stone skin had fractured across his chest.
Beneath the cracks, the mineral structures that supported his body had begun to crumble.
Kysena placed her hands above the damage.
Silver light gathered between her fingers.
The fractures slowly closed.
But not all of them.
Qaritas frowned.
"…Why did you stop?"
Kysena didn't look up.
"Because healing isn't the same as replacing everything someone has lost."
She carefully supported the man's shoulder.
"I can encourage what remains to recover. I can stabilize damaged structures and restore functions that haven't been completely destroyed."
Her expression saddened.
"But some injuries require more than healing."
Qaritas thought of the prisoners they had found.
The missing limbs.
The terrible wounds.
"And if something is completely gone?"
Kysena hesitated.
"Then I would need to reconstruct it."
"Can you?"
"Perhaps."
She looked at him.
"But rebuilding a living body incorrectly can be worse than leaving the injury untouched."
Qaritas fell silent.
Kysena returned her attention to the prisoner.
"First, we make sure they survive."
Her voice softened.
"Then we ask them what they want us to restore."
Ylaris secured the exits.
Disabled the transport systems.
Seized the guards.
And sent a coded distress message to the nearest legitimate Ashguard command.
Qaritas opened doors.
Broke restraints.
Carried people who couldn't walk.
And kept looking—
for Rhevan.
Because Tavek was looking too.
Every time they entered another room, the boy searched the faces.
Every time a prisoner raised their head, hope flashed across his own.
Then faded.
Again.
And again.
Until Qaritas began dreading the next door.
They reached the lowest level shortly before dawn.
The corridor was narrow.
The lamps were dim.
The air smelled of disinfectant, damp stone, and old blood.
A heavy door stood at the end.
Unlike the others—
it had no number.
Only a small metal plate.
UNCLAIMED.
Qaritas stared.
Ylaris approached.
"What?"
Qaritas pointed.
The solar Ascendant's expression hardened.
He stepped toward the lock.
Then stopped.
Because someone was speaking on the other side.
A man's voice.
Weak.
Hoarse.
Barely audible.
"…Tavek?"
The boy froze.
Qaritas turned.
Tavek stared at the door.
His mouth opened.
No sound came.
Then—
"…Rhevan?"
Silence.
A faint movement.
Something scraped against the floor.
And the voice answered.
"…Tav?"
The boy screamed.
"RHEVAN!"
He ran.
Qaritas caught him before he reached the door.
"Wait—"
"LET ME GO!"
"Tavek—"
"THAT'S HIM!"
The boy struggled.
"THAT'S MY BROTHER!"
Qaritas felt his heart pounding.
He looked toward Ylaris.
"Open it."
Ylaris broke the lock.
The door swung inward.
And Tavek stopped fighting.
Because the room beyond—
was worse than anything he could have imagined.
Rhevan lay against the far wall.
Or what remained of the healthy young man Tavek remembered.
His clothing was torn.
His face was swollen.
One eye had nearly closed.
His wrists were bruised and raw from restraints.
His right foot was gone.
A crude bandage had been wrapped around the lower end of his leg, darkened by blood that had seeped through more than once.
His remaining foot was bare.
Every toenail had been torn away.
The same injuries marked his hands.
The fingertips were swollen, the nail beds damaged and exposed.
Several fingers on his right hand were missing.
His breathing came in shallow, uneven pulls.
And yet—
when he saw Tavek—
he smiled.
A tiny movement.
Barely there.
"…Hey."
Tavek stared.
His eyes moved across his brother.
The bandages.
The missing foot.
The ruined hands.
The face he recognized beneath injuries he couldn't understand.
For one terrible moment—
he couldn't move.
Then—
"…Rhevan?"
The older brother tried to lift his head.
Failed.
"Hey, little ember."
Tavek made a sound.
Not a word.
Not a scream.
Something broken between the two.
He fell to his knees.
Then crawled toward him.
Qaritas started forward.
Kysena caught his arm.
"Let him."
Tavek reached his brother.
Stopped.
His hands hovered.
He didn't know where to touch.
Everywhere looked painful.
"…What happened?"
Rhevan's smile trembled.
"Don't…"
He swallowed.
"Don't look so scared."
Tavek began shaking.
"Your foot—"
"I know."
"Your hands—"
"I know, Tav."
The boy's face crumpled.
"Who did this?"
Rhevan closed his eyes.
Tavek looked around wildly.
"WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"
Qaritas felt something inside him turn cold.
Rhevan opened his eyes again.
Looked at his brother.
Then—
"Come here."
Tavek hesitated.
"I don't want to hurt you."
Rhevan's mouth trembled.
"Please."
That was enough.
Tavek moved closer.
Carefully.
So carefully.
But as Tavek reached for him—
Rhevan suddenly stiffened.
His gaze darted toward the doorway.
"Wait."
Tavek froze.
"Rhev?"
Rhevan tried to push himself upright.
His ruined hand slipped against the floor.
Pain twisted his face.
"Don't let them see him."
Qaritas went still.
Rhevan wasn't looking at Tavek anymore.
He was staring at the corridor.
"Please."
His breathing quickened.
"He's just a kid."
Tavek's expression crumpled.
"Rhevan, it's me."
"Take him home."
"I'm not leaving you!"
Rhevan flinched at the shout.
Then his gaze returned to his brother.
Really returned.
Tavek was kneeling before him.
Alive.
Untouched.
Not another prisoner.
Not another person the guards had dragged into the room.
His little brother.
Rhevan's mouth trembled.
"…Tav."
Tavek nodded desperately.
"I'm here."
Rhevan looked toward Qaritas.
"They won't hurt him?"
Qaritas felt his throat tighten.
"No."
He crouched beside them.
"They won't."
Rhevan stared at him for another moment.
Then his shoulders finally loosened.
"…Okay."
Such a small word.
Such an enormous amount of trust.
He slipped his arms around his brother's shoulders.
And Rhevan—
despite everything—
lifted one ruined hand.
Rested it against the back of Tavek's head.
The boy broke.
He sobbed against his brother's chest.
Loudly.
Desperately.
Like someone who had spent six days trying not to imagine this moment and had discovered that reality was far crueler than fear.
"YOU SAID YOU'D COME HOME!"
Rhevan closed his eyes.
"I know."
"YOU PROMISED!"
"I know."
"YOU PROMISED ME!"
A tear slipped down Rhevan's swollen cheek.
"…I'm sorry."
Tavek pulled back.
Shook his head violently.
"No!"
His voice cracked.
"No, don't say that!"
Rhevan stared.
Tavek held his face.
His hands trembled.
"Don't apologize."
A pause.
"Please."
He pressed his forehead against his brother's.
"Please don't apologize."
Rhevan began crying.
Quietly.
He tried to speak.
Couldn't.
Tavek held him.
And whispered—
"I found you."
Again.
And again.
"I found you."
Rhevan closed his eyes.
Then—
"…You ate breakfast?"
Tavek froze.
Qaritas stopped breathing.
The boy pulled back.
"What?"
Rhevan tried to smile.
"Did you… eat?"
Tavek stared.
Then a laugh escaped him.
Small.
Horrified.
Wet with tears.
"You're stupid."
Rhevan's smile widened a fraction.
"That's my line."
Tavek began crying harder.
And Qaritas—
had to turn away.
Because somehow—
that question hurt worse than the injuries.
Kysena approached only when Tavek looked up and asked for help.
She knelt beside Rhevan.
Examined his wounds.
Her expression remained calm.
But Qaritas knew her well enough now to recognize the anger beneath it.
"Rhevan," she said gently. "I'm Kysena. I'm a healer."
He blinked slowly.
"…All right."
"May I examine you?"
He nodded.
She began.
Lunar light gathered around her fingers.
Soft.
Cool.
Careful.
Rhevan flinched when she touched the bandage around his leg.
Kysena stopped immediately.
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head.
"Not… you."
Her expression tightened.
She continued more slowly.
Qaritas watched the light travel through Rhevan's damaged body.
The bleeding slowed.
His breathing steadied.
The swelling around his face began to ease.
But the missing foot—
remained missing.
Kysena looked at him.
Then toward Tavek.
Her expression was grave.
"I can stabilize him."
Qaritas stepped closer.
"And heal him?"
"Much of the damage."
"His foot?"
She hesitated.
"Not safely here."
Tavek's face went pale.
"What?"
Kysena turned toward him.
"The injury is severe, and his body has been weakened by blood loss and prolonged suffering."
She took his hand.
"He needs proper care."
Tavek swallowed.
"But he'll live?"
Kysena looked at Rhevan.
Then back at the boy.
"I'm going to do everything I can."
Rhevan opened his eyes.
"…Tav."
The boy turned immediately.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry."
Tavek stared.
Then—
"Don't you dare."
Rhevan blinked.
Tavek's voice shook.
"Don't you dare tell me not to worry."
A faint smile appeared on Rhevan's face.
"…There he is."
Tavek started crying again.
Xheavend had not entered the room.
Qaritas noticed only after Kysena began treating Rhevan.
He turned.
She stood in the doorway.
In male form.
Motionless.
Her eyes were fixed on the injured man.
Not on the missing foot.
Not on the ruined hands.
On his face.
On the way he'd apologized to his younger brother.
On the way he'd asked whether Tavek had eaten.
Qaritas approached.
"Xheavend."
She didn't answer.
He stopped beside her.
"…Are you all right?"
Her jaw tightened.
Then—
"No."
Qaritas looked at her.
She spoke quietly.
"He was worried about his brother."
"Yes."
"After everything they did to him."
Qaritas swallowed.
"Yes."
Xheavend's hands curled into fists.
"He's lying there with half his body broken, and he's still worried whether that child ate breakfast."
Qaritas said nothing.
She looked toward Tavek.
The boy was holding Rhevan's hand.
Carefully avoiding the damaged fingers.
Xheavend's voice lowered.
"I remember doing that."
Qaritas turned.
"What?"
She didn't look at him.
"Trying to make other people feel better."
A pause.
"When I was the one who needed help."
Silence.
"I remember apologizing."
Her expression hardened.
"For bleeding."
Qaritas felt his chest tighten.
"For crying."
A pause.
"For making a mess."
He closed his eyes.
Xheavend continued.
"Because if I could make someone less angry…"
Her voice nearly disappeared.
"Maybe they wouldn't hurt me again."
Qaritas looked at her.
He wanted to say something.
Anything.
But she turned toward him.
And the expression on her face—
stopped him.
"Where's the baron?"