The journey north began beneath a sky turning from orange to deep crimson.
The baron's carriage traveled at the center of a small convoy.
Their group rode in a second vehicle provided by the estate.
Tavek sat beside Kysena.
Ylaris occupied the opposite bench.
Xheavend sat near the window.
And Qaritas—
was beginning to suspect the universe had developed a personal interest in making him uncomfortable.
Because Xheavend had close her eyes as if she was communicating to End in her head, not asleep but in a trance .
In male form.
With her head resting against his shoulder.
Qaritas stared straight ahead.
Ylaris noticed.
Naturally.
"Problem?"
"No."
"You're sitting very stiffly."
"I'm comfortable."
"You look as though someone threatened you."
Qaritas slowly turned.
"Would you like to walk?"
Ylaris smiled faintly.
"Touchy."
Kysena looked up from the medical supplies she was organizing.
"Leave him alone."
"He's being strange."
"He's always strange."
Qaritas stared.
"…Thank you, Kysena."
"You're welcome."
He sighed.
Then looked down.
Xheavend's face was peaceful though he knew she wasn't asleep.
But for once.
No tension.
No fear.
No constant awareness of where every door and window stood.
Just inner peace.
Qaritas's expression softened.
He carefully adjusted his shoulder so she wouldn't slip.
And stopped caring whether Ylaris noticed.
The road climbed through the Emberveil Plains.
They passed orchards whose trees bore glowing fruit.
Terraced farms.
Villages built around geothermal springs.
A roadside shrine decorated with four interwoven symbols.
Fire.
Earth.
Air.
Water.
At one settlement, a group of children waved as the convoy passed.
Tavek waved back.
Automatically.
Then seemed surprised he'd done it.
Kysena noticed.
She smiled.
"Have you traveled this road before?"
Tavek nodded.
"With Rhevan."
Qaritas looked toward him.
"When?"
"Last year."
"What for?"
"He was repairing an engine in one of the villages."
Tavek looked through the window.
"He let me come."
A pause.
"We stopped at a market."
His expression softened.
"They had these little cakes filled with Velmora custard."
Qaritas raised an eyebrow.
"Good?"
Tavek nodded.
"Really good."
"Then we'll have to find some."
The boy looked at him.
Qaritas shrugged.
"After we find your brother."
Tavek's expression changed.
He nodded.
"…Yeah."
Outside—
the first estate markers appeared.
Black stone pillars.
Copper emblems.
The branching-road seal.
Solvayne.
Qaritas watched them pass.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
And gradually—
the landscape changed.
The public road narrowed.
The farms grew farther apart.
Tall ridges of black volcanic glass rose on either side.
The road curved between them.
A natural corridor.
Easy to guard.
Difficult to leave.
Qaritas glanced toward Ylaris.
Ylaris was already watching the terrain.
Good.
At least they agreed on something.
The Solvayne estate appeared at dusk.
It stood upon a broad ridge overlooking the northern trade valley.
An enormous manor of black stone and copper-gold ornamentation, surrounded by terraced gardens and carefully cultivated trees.
Steam rose from heated pools.
Glass-covered walkways connected the main residence to smaller buildings.
A private rail spur disappeared into a tunnel beneath the western grounds.
Qaritas noticed that immediately.
"…They have their own railway."
Ylaris followed his gaze.
"Yes."
"Convenient."
"Very."
The manor's windows glowed warmly.
Music drifted from somewhere inside.
Servants moved along the terraces carrying lanterns.
A fountain stood near the entrance.
Its water rose in delicate spirals, illuminated from beneath by soft amber light.
And above the main doors—
the Solvayne crest.
A crown.
A branching road.
Qaritas looked at it.
Then toward the private railway.
Then toward the distant valley.
Something about the place—
was wrong.
Not obviously.
Not enough to name.
The gardens were beautiful.
The servants appeared relaxed.
The buildings were maintained.
The baron's hospitality seemed genuine.
Everything looked—
safe.
Qaritas felt a familiar discomfort settle beneath his ribs.
Gawi's voice returned.
The most dangerous opponent isn't always the one your instincts recognize as a threat.
It's the one they recognize as safe.
The carriage stopped.
A servant opened the door.
And Baron Solvayne stepped forward.
"Welcome," he said warmly.
"To my home."
Behind him—
the manor doors opened.
And a young woman appeared.
She looked to be about twenty-five.
Beautiful.
Graceful.
Dressed in a flowing gown of pale Emberlace with delicate gold embroidery.
Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
Her expression was gentle.
Almost shy.
She descended the steps.
"Father?"
The baron turned.
His face brightened.
"Seralyne."
He held out one hand.
"Come. We have guests."
The woman approached.
Her gaze moved across the group.
Ylaris.
Kysena.
Xheavend.
Tavek.
Then—
Qaritas.
She stopped.
Only for a heartbeat.
But he noticed.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then she smiled.
Not dramatically.
Not flirtatiously.
Just—
warmly.
"Welcome to Solvayne Manor."
Her voice was soft.
Kind.
Qaritas inclined his head.
"Thank you."
The baron smiled proudly.
"My daughter. Seralyne."
She looked at Qaritas.
"And you are?"
"Q."
Her smile deepened.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Q."
He blinked.
"…Just Q is fine."
She laughed softly.
"Then you must call me Seralyne."
Qaritas smiled politely.
"All right."
Beside him—
Xheavend watched.
Her expression was unreadable.
The baron gestured toward the manor.
"Come inside. You must be exhausted."
The doors stood open.
Warm light spilled across the steps.
Servants waited.
Dinner was being prepared.
Rooms had been arranged.
Everything was welcoming.
Everything was generous.
Everything was exactly what weary travelers would want.
Qaritas looked toward the entrance.
And remembered his dream.
You must not trust every face that welcomes you.
He glanced at Seralyne.
She was speaking gently to Tavek now.
Asking whether he'd eaten.
Whether he needed anything.
The boy shook his head.
She smiled.
"Then we'll make sure you're comfortable."
A perfectly kind thing to say.
Qaritas watched her.
And felt nothing dangerous.
Nothing at all.
Which was—
perhaps—
the most frightening part.
The dining hall was enormous.
Not because it needed to be.
Because the Solvayne family apparently believed meals should be eaten beneath ceilings high enough to accommodate small flying creatures.
Qaritas looked up.
"…Does anyone ever use the upper half of this room?"
Xheavend glanced toward the chandeliers.
"Birds?"
"That would explain it."
The chandeliers were fashioned from Emberglass and polished Sunheart Amber.
Their warm light moved across the black stone walls.
Long windows overlooked the estate gardens.
A broad table occupied the center of the chamber.
And upon it—
food.
An alarming amount of food.
Qaritas stopped.
"…Oh."
Kysena smiled.
"Impressed?"
"Concerned."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know where to begin."
Ylaris walked past him.
"Try sitting down."
"Wonderful suggestion."
The meal included roasted vegetables grown in the volcanic terraces, spiced breads, savory pastries, glazed roots, rich stews, and delicate custards made from Velmora milk.
There were fruits Qaritas didn't recognize.
Small bowls of golden sauces.
A chilled drink prepared from Thireva nectar that shifted from blue to violet when a servant added a few drops of citrus.
Qaritas watched the color change.
"…That's fascinating."
Seralyne smiled.
"Would you like another?"
"I haven't finished this one."
"Then perhaps later."
She laughed softly.
Qaritas smiled.
Across the table—
Xheavend raised an eyebrow.
He ignored her.
The baron sat at the head of the table.
He spoke about Vharos.
Its history.
Its industries.
Its trade with the other kingdoms.
How the Fourfold Meridian had transformed travel across Lamentis.
How the Emberrail carried mineral shipments to Tharuun, while airships from Aelthir brought Cloudsilk and storm batteries to the volcanic cities.
How Namaris supplied medicines, pearls, and specialized water technology.
Qaritas listened.
And asked questions.
Many questions.
Some about the roads.
Some about the missing shipments.
Some about the private railway.
The baron answered each one.
Calmly.
Patiently.
Never appearing offended.
When Qaritas asked about the rail tunnel beneath the estate—
the baron smiled.
"An old industrial line."
"Still used?"
"Occasionally."
"For what?"
"Mineral transport. Agricultural supplies. Machinery."
Qaritas nodded.
"And passengers?"
The baron paused.
"Rarely."
"Rarely?"
"Only when circumstances require it."
Qaritas smiled faintly.
"Of course."
Seralyne looked between them.
"Father, must we discuss work during dinner?"
The baron laughed.
"Forgive me, darling."
She turned toward Qaritas.
"You've only just arrived."
A pause.
"Surely there are more pleasant things to discuss."
Qaritas looked at her.
"Such as?"
She smiled.
"Where you've traveled."
He considered that.
"…That's a dangerous question."
"Why?"
"Because the answer is complicated."
Her eyes brightened.
"I like complicated stories."
Qaritas smiled.
"Then you may regret asking."
Tavek barely ate.
Qaritas noticed.
So did Kysena.
The boy kept glancing toward the baron.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Finally—
he couldn't remain silent.
"My lord?"
The conversation stopped.
Baron Solvayne looked toward him.
"Yes, young man?"
Tavek swallowed.
"Have you seen my brother?"
The baron's expression softened.
"Your brother?"
"Rhevan."
A pause.
"Rhevan from the rail yards."
The baron frowned thoughtfully.
"Ah."
Tavek leaned forward.
"You remember him?"
"I remember hearing his name."
The boy's hands tightened around his fork.
"He came here six days ago."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
The baron looked toward one of his servants.
"Would you ask the transport steward to review the records?"
"Of course, my lord."
The servant departed.
Tavek watched him go.
Then turned back.
"Please."
His voice shook.
"He's been missing."
The baron's expression became deeply sympathetic.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Tavek swallowed.
"He wouldn't leave without telling me."
"Of course."
"He promised he'd come home."
The baron nodded slowly.
"Then we'll do everything we can to help you find him."
Tavek stared.
For the first time since Qaritas had met him—
hope appeared on the boy's face.
Not much.
Just enough.
"…Thank you."
The baron smiled.
"You're welcome."
Qaritas watched the exchange.
Then looked toward Seralyne.
She had lowered her gaze.
Her expression appeared saddened.
When she looked up—
her eyes met Qaritas's.
For a moment, she seemed about to speak.
Instead—
she offered him a small, reassuring smile.
He returned it.
Politely.
And wondered why he couldn't stop thinking about Gawi's knives.
Later, Seralyne showed them the gardens.
The evening air had cooled.
Lanterns illuminated paths winding between flowering trees and pools of gently steaming water.
Pale Emberlace curtains moved behind the manor's open windows.
Somewhere in the distance, musicians played.
Tavek remained inside with Kysena, waiting for the transport steward.
Ylaris had gone to inspect the estate's security arrangements.
Xheavend—
had disappeared.
Qaritas suspected she was investigating.
He also suspected she hadn't bothered telling him because she knew he'd insist on coming.
A deeply irritating habit.
Seralyne walked beside him.
"Do you like Vharos?"
Qaritas looked toward the gardens.
"Very much."
"Even with the heat?"
"I've experienced worse."
She laughed.
"I imagine you have."
He glanced at her.
"Do you travel?"
"Sometimes."
"Where?"
"Vaelkaris, mostly. Occasionally Khorazeth."
"The Forgemarket City?"
She smiled.
"You've been reading."
"Trying to."
"My father says understanding the other kingdoms is important."
"He's right."
Seralyne looked toward the darkening sky.
"I've always wanted to see Aelthir."
"The floating cities?"
"Yes."
Her expression softened.
"Imagine waking above the clouds."
Qaritas looked toward the distant horizon.
He could almost picture it.
Cities suspended between enormous islands.
Bridges of wind.
Cloud gardens.
Storms beneath their foundations.
"…That would be something."
Seralyne glanced at him.
"Perhaps you've already seen stranger places."
He laughed quietly.
"Yes."
"Will you tell me about them?"
Qaritas hesitated.
Then—
"Some."
She smiled.
And they walked.
He told her about a forest whose trees glowed beneath silver mist.
About mountains that moved.
About creatures so enormous that entire landscapes formed upon their bodies.
He omitted the more horrifying details.
Mostly.
Seralyne listened with genuine fascination.
She asked questions.
Laughed at his complaints.
And when he described Goro's training methods—
she covered her mouth.
"Your teacher threw you off cliffs?"
"Repeatedly."
"That's terrible!"
"Apparently it builds character."
"Did it?"
Qaritas considered.
"…It built resentment."
She laughed.
He smiled.
For a little while—
the conversation was easy.
Comfortable.
And then Seralyne asked—
"Is there someone waiting for you?"
Qaritas stopped walking.
She noticed.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
He looked at her.
"Why do you ask?"
She hesitated.
Then smiled faintly.
"You speak about places you've traveled."
A pause.
"But sometimes you look as though you're thinking about somewhere you haven't reached yet."
Qaritas stared.
It was an unexpectedly perceptive observation.
He looked toward the gardens.
And thought of—
Ayla.
Not as she had been in the beginning.
Not laughing.
Not smiling.
Not teasing him for his endless questions.
He remembered her in Taeterra.
The healing ward.
The terrible injuries Ecayrous had inflicted.
The way her body had been suspended between life and a suffering no one should have endured.
Niriai had taken her through a gate.
To safety.
At least—
that had been the hope.
Qaritas knew she had been alive when she left.
He knew she had been unconscious.
He knew she had needed help.
But he didn't know where she was now.
Not in this time.
Not in this strange stretch of history where the future he remembered had not yet happened.
And he didn't know whether he would ever find the right moment to reach her again.
Seralyne's voice brought him back.
"Q?"
He blinked.
"…Sorry."
She studied him.
"Someone important?"
He looked at her.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
"Someone you love?"
Qaritas didn't answer immediately.
He looked toward the lanterns.
The gardens.
The warm windows of the manor.
Then—
"Yes."
Seralyne lowered her gaze.
For a moment, she seemed disappointed.
But when she looked up again—
she smiled.
"Then I hope you find her."
Qaritas felt something tighten in his chest.
"…Thank you."
She nodded.
And they continued walking.
"What do you miss most about her?" Seralyne asked.
Qaritas considered that.
He could have said her smile.
Her voice.
The way she could make the impossible seem ordinary.
Instead, he laughed quietly.
"…She argues with me."
Seralyne blinked.
"That's what you miss?"
"Not ordinary arguments."
He smiled.
"She can make me feel like the most intelligent person in existence and the greatest idiot ever born in the same conversation."
"And you enjoy that?"
"More than I probably should."
When Qaritas returned to the manor, he found Xheavend waiting near the staircase.
In male form.
Arms folded.
Expression deeply suspicious.
He stopped.
"…What?"
She looked past him.
Toward the garden doors.
Then back.
"Enjoy your walk?"
Qaritas sighed.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You said it with your face."
She grinned.
"Did she ask whether you're married?"
"Xheavend."
"Did she ask about your favorite flowers?"
"Stop."
"Did she offer to show you the moonlight garden?"
Qaritas stared.
"…How do you know about the moonlight garden?"
Xheavend burst out laughing.
"Oh, Q."
He closed his eyes.
"You're unbearable."
She leaned closer.
Her deeper voice made the teasing worse.
"Does she know about Ayla?"
Qaritas's expression changed.
Xheavend noticed immediately.
The laughter faded.
"…Sorry."
He shook his head.
"It's all right."
She studied him.
"Are you?"
Qaritas looked toward the staircase.
Then—
"I don't know."
Xheavend said nothing.
He exhaled.
"Seralyne seems kind."
"She does."
"And I think she likes me."
Xheavend raised an eyebrow.
"You think?"
"Don't start."
She smiled faintly.
Then Qaritas continued.
"But I can't stop thinking about Ayla."
Xheavend's expression softened.
He looked down.
"I don't know where she is."
A pause.
"I don't know what happened after Niriai took her."
His fingers tightened.
"And being here…"
He looked toward the windows.
"Being in a time where so much hasn't happened yet—"
He stopped.
Xheavend waited.
Qaritas swallowed.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a world full of people who don't know what's coming."
Silence.
"And I can't tell them."
Xheavend stepped closer.
"Q."
He looked up.
She rested one hand on his shoulder.
It was a familiar gesture.
But her hand was larger now.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
Xheavend noticed him noticing.
Her mouth twitched.
"Still not used to it?"
"Not even slightly."
She laughed softly.
Then her expression grew serious.
"We'll find a way."
Qaritas looked at her.
"To Ayla?"
"To whatever comes next."
He stared.
Then smiled faintly.
"…That's not particularly reassuring."
"I learned from you."
"Terrible teacher."
"The worst."
For a moment—
they stood together.
And Qaritas felt something ease.
Just a little.
Then Xheavend lowered her voice.
"Q."
He looked at her.
"I found something."
His smile disappeared.
"What?"
She glanced toward the corridor.
"Not here."
The estate's guest rooms occupied the eastern wing.
Each was beautifully furnished.
Dark wood.
Emberglass lamps.
Soft carpets.
Windows overlooking the gardens.
Qaritas's room even contained a private bathing chamber with heated water.
He regarded that as suspiciously luxurious.
Xheavend regarded it as an opportunity to investigate without servants listening.
She entered his room.
Closed the door.
Then approached the table.
"There's a tunnel beneath the western grounds."
Qaritas nodded.
"The private railway."
"More than that."
She unfolded a rough sketch.
A map.
Qaritas leaned closer.
"Where did you get this?"
"Maintenance office."
"Did they give it to you?"
"No."
"Of course not."
Xheavend pointed.
"The rail line enters here."
A narrow passage beneath the estate.
"Then it branches."
Qaritas frowned.
"That wasn't visible from outside."
"Exactly."
She traced the map.
"One branch leads to storage chambers."
"And the other?"
"Below the manor."
Qaritas stared.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
He studied the drawing.
"Could be old infrastructure."
"Could be."
"But you don't think so."
Xheavend shook her head.
"No."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
Then—
"Because I heard something."
Qaritas looked up.
"What?"
Her expression tightened.
"Someone crying."
Silence.
"Where?"
"Near the lower service corridor."
"Did you investigate?"
"I tried."
"And?"
"The door was locked."
Qaritas exhaled.
"That doesn't necessarily mean—"
"I know."
Xheavend looked at him.
"But there was something else."
He waited.
She lowered her voice.
"The crying stopped when footsteps approached."
Qaritas felt something cold move through him.
"Servants?"
"Guards."
"How many?"
"Four."
"Did they see you?"
"No."
He nodded slowly.
Then looked back at the map.
A private railway.
Hidden branches.
Locked corridors.
Crying.
And a boy whose brother had vanished after arriving at this estate.
Qaritas rubbed his face.
"…Wonderful."
Xheavend watched him.
"What do you want to do?"
He looked toward the door.
Then back at her.
"Find Ylaris."
"And Kysena?"
"Tell her to keep Tavek close."
Xheavend nodded.
Qaritas studied the map one last time.
Then—
"Let's find out what the baron is hiding."
They did not confront the baron that night.
Not immediately.
Ylaris insisted they needed evidence.
Kysena agreed.
Xheavend disagreed.
Qaritas found himself caught between three people who were all, in different ways, terrifyingly stubborn.
A familiar experience.
Ylaris stood beside the guest-room window.
"We don't know whether the crying came from a prisoner."
Xheavend folded her arms.
"I know what I heard."
"I'm not questioning that."
"Then—"
"I'm questioning whether walking into a secured underground facility without knowing its defenses is wise."
Qaritas raised one hand.
"…For once, I agree with him."
Ylaris turned.
"How reassuring."
"Don't ruin it."
Kysena sat beside Tavek.
The boy had fallen asleep in a chair, still holding the transport papers.
She had draped a blanket over him.
Her expression was serious.
"We also need to consider what happens if the baron is involved."
Qaritas looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"If he is responsible for the disappearances, he may have people working for him throughout the estate."
Ylaris nodded.
"Guards. Servants. Transport officials."
"And possibly the Ashguard officers at the blockade," Qaritas added.
Silence.
Xheavend looked toward the sleeping boy.
Then—
"His brother is down there."
Qaritas watched her.
"We don't know that."
She turned.
Her eyes were sharp.
"Don't we?"
He said nothing.
Xheavend looked away.
Her hands tightened.
"I know what places like that sound like."
The room grew quiet.
Kysena's expression softened.
Ylaris lowered his gaze.
Qaritas felt the words settle inside him.
I know what places like that sound like.
He thought of Yzer.
The chambers.
The years.
The cruelty.
And the way Xheavend had learned to recognize suffering through walls.
Qaritas stepped closer.
"Then we investigate tonight."
Ylaris looked at him.
"Carefully."
"Yes."
"No unnecessary risks."
"Obviously."
Ylaris raised an eyebrow.
Qaritas sighed.
"…Reasonably few unnecessary risks."
"Better."
The manor settled into silence after midnight.
Not complete silence.
The estate was too large for that.
Servants moved through distant corridors.
Heating pipes hummed beneath the floors.
Occasional footsteps echoed along the stone passageways.
Outside, night insects sang among the gardens.
Qaritas waited until the last of the household staff had passed.
Then opened his door.
Ylaris stood in the corridor.
Already waiting.
Qaritas blinked.
"…How long have you been there?"
"Long enough."
"That is not a useful answer."
Ylaris looked toward the far end of the hall.
"Xheavend?"
"Checking the lower staircase."
"Kysena?"
"With the boy."
Ylaris nodded.
Then looked at Qaritas.
"Ready?"
Qaritas smiled faintly.
"Not remotely."
"Good."
They moved.
The lower service corridor smelled of warm stone and cleaning oils.
Narrow lamps illuminated the walls.
The floors were polished.
Too polished.
Qaritas noticed that immediately.
Most service passages showed signs of constant use.
Scratches.
Worn corners.
Marks left by carts and equipment.
This one—
looked recently maintained.
He crouched.
Touched the floor.
Ylaris glanced back.
"What?"
"Fresh sealant."
"Meaning?"
"Someone repaired the surface."
"Recently?"
Qaritas nodded.
"Very."
Ylaris studied the corridor.
Then—
"Perhaps they take good care of the estate."
Qaritas looked up.
"Perhaps."
Neither sounded convinced.
They continued.
At the end of the passage stood a heavy door.
Black metal.
Copper fittings.
No visible handle.
Only a recessed locking mechanism.
Qaritas approached.
"…Subtle."
Ylaris examined it.
"Industrial security."
"For a service corridor?"
"Apparently."
Qaritas looked toward the ceiling.
A narrow ventilation shaft ran above the door.
He could hear machinery beyond it.
A low, rhythmic hum.
Then—
something else.
A faint metallic sound.
Not loud.
Not continuous.
A chain?
A tool?
He couldn't tell.
Qaritas closed his eyes.
Listened.
The hum continued.
Then—
a voice.
Very faint.
Too distant to understand.
But human.
Or something close enough.
His eyes opened.
Ylaris was already looking at him.
"You heard it."
Qaritas nodded.
"Yes."
Ylaris's expression hardened.
Then—
footsteps.
Approaching.
From the other side.
Qaritas moved immediately.
Ylaris followed.
They slipped into a narrow recess beside a storage cabinet.
The door opened.
Two guards emerged.
Both wore black-and-copper uniforms.
Not Ashguard armor.
Private estate security.
One was a Pyrathi man with dull red fissures across his skin.
The other was a Terravyn with polished stone plates along his shoulders.
The Pyrathi rubbed his hands together.
"How much longer?"
The Terravyn shrugged.
"Until the next convoy."
"That's two days."
"Then two days."
The Pyrathi sighed.
"Some of them won't last."
The Terravyn gave a quiet laugh.
"Then they'll be marked as losses."
Qaritas went still.
Ylaris's expression changed.
The Pyrathi continued.
"Baron won't like that."
"Baron doesn't like losing money."
A pause.
"Doesn't mean he cares what happens to the cargo."
Silence.
Qaritas felt his stomach turn.
Cargo.
The guards walked away.
Their footsteps faded.
Ylaris remained still.
Qaritas looked at him.
Neither spoke.
Because they both understood—
they had just heard enough.
They returned to the guest wing by another route.
Xheavend was waiting.
One look at their faces—
and she knew.
"What?"
Qaritas closed the door.
Ylaris spoke.
"There's a secured facility beneath the manor."
Xheavend's expression hardened.
"I told you."
"Yes."
"What did you find?"
Qaritas hesitated.
Then—
"Guards discussing people as cargo."
Silence.
Xheavend didn't move.
For several seconds, her face remained utterly still.
Then she asked—
"How many?"
"We don't know," Ylaris answered.
"Where?"
"Beyond the lower service corridor."
"Are they alive?"
"Some," Qaritas said quietly.
Xheavend looked at him.
He held her gaze.
"At least some."
She turned away.
Walked toward the window.
Stopped.
Her hands were shaking.
Not much.
But Qaritas noticed.
He approached carefully.
"Xheavend."
She didn't turn.
"Q."
"Yes?"
"Don't ask me to wait until morning."
He looked at her.
"I wasn't going to."
She turned.
For a moment—
he saw something in her eyes that frightened him.
Not because it was unfamiliar.
Because he recognized it.
He had seen it in people who had survived too much.
The moment fear began turning into something else.
Something hotter.
Something that wanted the world to hurt as badly as they had.
Qaritas stepped closer.
"We're going to get them out."
Xheavend's jaw tightened.
"And the people who put them there?"
He hesitated.
"We'll deal with them."
"How?"
"Xheavend—"
"How, Q?"
Silence.
He looked at her.
Then—
"I don't know yet."
Her expression hardened.
She looked away.
And Qaritas understood—
that answer wasn't enough.
Not for her.
Not tonight.
An hour later, the manor's transport steward arrived.
He knocked politely.
Qaritas opened the door.
The man bowed.
"Lord Q."
"Yes?"
"Forgive the late hour."
"What's happened?"
"The baron asked me to deliver the records you requested."
Qaritas blinked.
"…Now?"
"The documents were only recently recovered."
The steward held out a leather folder.
Qaritas accepted it.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
The man bowed again.
Then departed.
Qaritas closed the door.
Turned.
And found Xheavend watching him.
"Convenient," she said.
"Very."
He opened the folder.
Inside were transport records.
Shipping manifests.
Passenger authorizations.
Depot reports.
Qaritas spread them across the table.
Ylaris approached.
Kysena joined them.
Tavek remained asleep.
For several minutes, they studied the documents.
Then Qaritas stopped.
"…Wait."
Ylaris looked up.
"What?"
Qaritas pointed toward a manifest.
"Look at the cargo weight."
Ylaris leaned closer.
A shipment of machine parts.
Three wagons.
Total declared weight—
considerably lower than the recorded departure weight.
Ylaris frowned.
"That's a discrepancy."
Qaritas nodded.
"Now look at this one."
Another shipment.
Mineral supplies.
Same discrepancy.
Then another.
Agricultural equipment.
Same pattern.
Kysena's expression grew grim.
"How many?"
Qaritas turned another page.
Then another.
"…A lot."
Ylaris studied the dates.
"All routed through the private depot."
"Yes."
"And several after the public roads were closed."
"Yes."
Kysena looked toward the sleeping boy.
"Rhevan noticed."
Qaritas nodded slowly.
"He did."
Then—
something slipped from between two pages.
A small object.
Metal.
It struck the table with a soft sound.
Clink.
Qaritas looked down.
A bracelet.
Copper.
Worn.
Repaired in two places.
A tiny gear had been fastened to its center.
He picked it up.
Turned it over.
There were letters scratched into the inside.
Two names.
RHEVAN.
TAVEK.
Qaritas stopped breathing.
Kysena's hand rose toward her mouth.
Ylaris went still.
Xheavend stared at the bracelet.
For several seconds—
nobody spoke.
Then Qaritas looked toward the sleeping boy.
He remembered Tavek's words.
He used to bring home damaged toys.
He'd repair them at night.
Then tell me he'd bought them.
Qaritas held the bracelet carefully.
It was warm from his hand.
A little bent.
The clasp had been repaired with a piece of wire.
He wondered whether Rhevan had made it.
Whether Tavek had given it to him.
Whether the two brothers had worn matching ones.
Then he noticed—
something dark caught beneath the clasp.
Dried blood.
Qaritas felt the room grow cold.
"…We need to wake Tavek."
Kysena looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"He'll recognize it."
Xheavend stepped closer.
Her expression had changed.
Something terrible moved beneath it.
"Q."
He looked up.
She pointed toward the folder.
"Why would the steward give us that?"
Qaritas froze.
He looked at the documents.
The manifests.
The discrepancies.
The bracelet.
Evidence.
Too much evidence.
Delivered conveniently to their room.
By a man who worked for the baron.
Qaritas's stomach tightened.
"…Oh."
His gaze returned to the final manifest.
There was something else.
A notation in the margin.
Four visitors.
Expected.
Qaritas frowned.
They hadn't announced their arrival.
Hadn't sent word ahead.
And yet someone had known how many of them would come.
Before they'd even reached the estate.
Ylaris turned toward the door.
Kysena rose.
Xheavend's hands closed into fists.
Then—
a soft knock.
Three gentle taps.
Qaritas looked toward the door.
Nobody moved.
Another knock.
Then—
a woman's voice.
Warm.
Familiar.
Kind.
"Lord Q?"
Seralyne.
Qaritas felt his chest tighten.
"May I come in?"
Silence.
He looked at the bracelet in his hand.
Then toward the door.
And remembered—
Gawi's warning.
Marasailyn's dream.
The feeling of safety.
The open door.
The familiar face.
Qaritas slowly approached.
"…Seralyne?"
"Yes?"
"Is something wrong?"
A pause.
Then—
a soft laugh.
"No."
Her voice remained gentle.
"I simply wanted to see whether you needed anything."
Qaritas stopped.
Behind him, Ylaris shifted his stance.
Kysena moved closer to Tavek.
Xheavend stood perfectly still.
Seralyne spoke again.
"Father said you were reviewing the transport records."
Qaritas looked down at the bracelet.
"…We are."
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Outside the door—
the woman waited.
Patiently.
Then—
"Lord Q?"
Her voice softened.
Almost affectionately.
"Were you looking for something?"
Qaritas stared at the door.
And for the first time since arriving at Solvayne Manor—
he realized something.
He had been searching for a missing man.
For altered records.
For hidden chambers.
For evidence of crimes committed beneath a beautiful house.
But he had never once considered—
that someone might be searching for him.