While Meko, Doren, and Anya pursued their frantic tasks, Katarina moved toward the administrative heart of Limka. Her mission was to locate the Central Archives and find any immediate information about Sophron or the Mercer family.
Katarina moved through the crowds with an almost unsettling grace. The streets grew cleaner as she neared the district of official buildings. The Central Archives was housed in a large, imposing structure of grey stone, its windows narrow and tall.
As Katarina approached the Archives building, her sharp eyes spotted subtle shifts in atmosphere and movement. She caught sight of several anomalies that caused her to freeze mid-stride.
They weren't just near the Archives, they were scattered through the streets and on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Cloaked figures that were draped in heavy, dark fabric that seemed to absorb the light. They were positioned at key intersections and high vantage points.
She saw one standing unnaturally still on the peak of a low government building. Another was leaning against a thick stone pillar, motionless, observing the passersby. A third was posted directly across the wide avenue from the Archives entrance. And that was just what she saw.
These were not city guards, they were too focused, too coordinated, and their heavy cloaks were the identical dark livery of the assassins who had attacked them in Havenport.
Katarina's blood ran cold. She recognized them instantly as agents of The Order of the Sunless. Something about them. They had not only beaten them to the city. That must have meant they were all over the city.
The Central Archives was not just guarded, it was watched by the very people hunting her group.
Katarina instantly retreated, melding herself back into the flow of the less-suspicious crowd, her mind racing. Getting inside would be suicide. She had to think quickly.
Katarina found a shadowed niche across the wide avenue and spent the next fifteen minutes in a state of intense observation. The Sunless were unnervingly still. They maintained positions on the ground and rooftops, their only movement the slow, precise swiveling of their heads as they tracked the flow of the city's populace. They were not looking for conflict, but they were looking for targets.
She confirmed the layout of the massive Central Archives building. It was sandwiched between two other structures. To the right was a taller, blocky municipal building that offered no easy access. To the left was a shorter building, possibly a council office or a minor guild headquarters, whose roof was just slightly below the eaves of the Archives.
Crucially, just above the rooftop of that shorter building, a small window was situated high on the Archives' second floor. It was the kind of window often used for ventilation or minor storage, likely unguarded and difficult to reach. It would be her way in. It would be a silent, vertical approach, using the shorter building as a launch point, that would completely bypass the street-level.
Katarina risked one last, swift glance at the nearest cloaked figure, confirming its unmoving vigilance. Then, she vanished.
She crept into the first alleyway she could find, leaving the busy main street behind.
The alleys were a maze of garbage bins, discarded crates, and delivery access points, but they were empty of the Sunless agents, who focused their surveillance on the main streetway. Katarina used the network of shadows and back passages, her footsteps silent, calculating the quickest route to the back of the shorter building adjacent to the Archives. The tension of the nearby surveillance made every shadow seem menacing.
As she rounded a narrow corner, she encountered a figure slumped against a moss and mud covered wall. He was a man in filthy rags. His body was grotesquely malformed, one shoulder resting significantly higher than the other. His right arm was amputated just above the elbow. "Spare some coin ma'am?" He muttered, his voice weak and ragged.
Katarina didn't slow. Her mind was already calculating the route she was going to take. She was so entirely consumed by the mission's urgency and the proximity of danger that she didn't even register his words, sweeping past him like an errant gust of wind.
"The unkind shall go punished," the man said, his voice now clear and oddly resonant, despite her passing. The phrase hung in the stagnant alley air, but Katarina was already gone.
She continued her calculated path until she reached the back of the shorter building adjacent to the Archives. Her access was cut off by a high, moss-covered brick wall, designed to prevent unauthorized entry to the official properties.
Katarina paused, her heart rate steadying. The wall was no obstacle. She could easily use a brief, controlled burst of her Air element to hop it silently and land on the adjacent roof. She inhaled, preparing to channel the wind around her.
But before she could move, a profound, terrifying change occurred just feet above her head. A point in the air seemed to wither and implode, pulling the surrounding light and air into itself. It materialized into a swirling black mass. A mass that was compact, an utterly lightless vortex of pure elemental energy. The air in the alley immediately dropped to a shocking, frigid temperature, a cold that bit deep into her bones.
Katarina had only time to register the horrifying reality of the obstacle and the finality of its approach. Before her mind could fully process the need to flee or fight, the mass dropped, expanding rapidly.
With a silent, sickening hush, the swirling black engulfed Katarina entirely. There was no scream, no struggle, just an instantaneous, complete annihilation. When the black mass dissipated a second later, the alley was empty.
Katarina was gone, leaving nothing behind but the silence and the residual, unnatural cold of the void.
Katarina's consciousness snapped back into existence with an overwhelming, oppressive darkness. There was no transition from the finality of the Void to this new reality she simply was.
She tried to inhale, but the air was stale, heavy, and thin, tasting metallic and cold. She immediately panicked, thrashing her arms and legs, only to find she was severely restricted. Her wrists were bound tightly together with something rough and unyielding, and her ankles were similarly shackled, preventing her from standing or even properly sitting up.
The panic flared into terror. She was in a space of absolute zero light. She couldn't even see the outline of her own hand an inch from her face. It was a suffocating, primal fear.
Where was she?
Her mind screamed. She tried to summon the familiar, comforting surge of wind, a simple pressure against her bonds. She strained, pushing her elemental will outward, but the power felt sluggish, thick, and muted, as if the very air around her was too heavy to move. Whatever this space was, it was actively suppressing her elemental connection.
She began to hyperventilate, the ragged sounds of her own breath echoing in the small, enclosed space. Her body scraped against a rough, uneven surface. Wood? Stone? She desperately tried to discover the limits of her prison. It was so cramped, she could only move a few feet in any direction before hitting an unyielding wall.
She remembered the last, terrifying instant before the blackness consumed her, and a new, chilling realization set in. This was not a simple kidnapping. She was in a place designed to neutralize her, a place where the world had been intentionally dimmed.
It was cold.. She curled into a tight ball, shivering uncontrollably, the terror of the absolute darkness and the loss of her power overwhelming her refined control. She was utterly alone, imprisoned, and terrified of the next sound or touch that would emerge from the smothering blackness.
Heavy, irregular footsteps were the first sound to penetrate the smothering darkness of Katarina's prison. They were coming from the other side of one of the walls, the sound muffled, yet distinct. She couldn't pinpoint which wall they were at.
The noise immediately snapped Katarina from paralyzing terror into sharp, agonizing anxiety. She strained her ears, trying to determine the sound's direction and proximity. A slow, rhythmic thump... thump... It was heavy, suggesting a large, deliberate stride. Whoever this was, it was a brute force, not showing much elemental finesse.
The footsteps grew closer and closer, filling the tiny, confined space of her prison with invasive echoes. Every footfall was a heavy pulse of dread. She imagined a massive, masked guard stopping just inches from her wall, perhaps feeling the wood or stone that separated them.
Katarina frantically began to move again, silently scraping her bound ankles against the floor, trying to find a loose board or a weak point. She pushed with her shoulders against the rough, vertical surface beside her, desperation lending her brief, fruitless surges of adrenaline. She had to break free, or at least prepare for the moment the wall—or door—was breached. The footsteps stopped right outside. The silence was instantly more terrifying than the noise.
The sudden halt of the heavy footsteps was momentary relief, instantly replaced by renewed dread. Then, with a metallic scrape, a small rectangle opened at the very bottom of the wall, just at floor level.
A tray was pushed through the opening containing a meager portion of dry bread and a few pieces of a wilted green vegetable. The sight of food offered a brief, jarring moment of normalcy in the horror.
Before Katarina could process the offering, a coarse, deep voice rumbled from the other side of the opening. "Eat, you'll be released to the monsters soon."
The opening slammed shut with a final, heavy clang. The words hit Katarina with bone-chilling clarity. She wasn't just captured, she was a commodity, meant to be fed to something, or even someone else. The rough voice, the lack of elemental power, and the mention of "monsters" solidified that this was not the Sunless, but something far more brutal and commerce-driven. She was in the hands of possible slavers.
She pushed herself back against the cold, unseen wall. She had to conserve her energy, use the meager food, and find the flaw in her prison before she was delivered to whatever horrors awaited her.
The word "soon" stretched into an eternity. Katarina didn't know if minutes or hours had passed in the absolute dark. The constant, oppressive darkness was a physical weight, tearing at her nerves and amplifying her isolation. She had forced herself to consume the bread and vegetable, savoring every scrap to conserve strength, but the silence and the cold fear were relentless.
Suddenly, she felt her entire cell shift. A profound, grinding rumble echoed around her as the confined space began to move, rocking and jarring, indicating she was being hauled or transported. The movement lasted for what felt like several minutes, increasing her disorientation and panic.
Then, with a heavy crash, the jarring motion ceased. A moment later, the wall opposite where the food tray had appeared slid open, and a blinding, shocking light flooded her prison.
Katarina squeezed her eyes shut, wincing against the intensity. The light was a deep, lurid red. Red-tinted lanterns, dozens of them, filled the room before her, casting the entire space in a disturbing, sanguine glow.
She felt a sharp, painful tug on her shackles. The sound of chains scraping on the stone floor accompanied her forced entry. She stumbled forward into the red-lit chamber.
Standing before her was a man of stature. He was dressed not in rags, but in rich, deep crimson velvet robes that were nevertheless torn and dirtied. He wore a pair of darkened glasses. His expression was one of cruel, bored anticipation.
The room itself was large, with rough-hewn stone walls and floor, but it was lit for spectacle. Katarina's eyes adjusted enough to finally make everything out. She had a feeling she was about to be put on display. Her stomach churned at what kind of show she would be putting on.
The man in the crimson robes studied Katarina with a slow, appraising gaze that made her skin crawl. His eyes lingered on the quality of her remaining clothes, the fine line of her jaw, and the way she held herself despite the chains.
"You're quite well dressed for a new acquisition," he drawled, his voice carrying the smooth, cultured tone of someone who should be speaking in a palace, not a dungeon. He carried a heavy, ivory-handled cane, which he used to slowly circle her, his movements radiating bored menace.
He stopped directly in front of her. Without preamble, and with a shocking lack of respect, he reached out a gloved hand.
First, he grasped her chin, tilting her head roughly from side to side to inspect her face and teeth. "Clean teeth, healthy bone structure," he murmured, speaking to no one in particular, assessing her as one would inspect livestock. "Good features. Will fetch a high price in the upper markets, if the scars don't ruin her."
His gaze dropped. He then used the tip of his cane, not his hand, to lift the rough wool tunic Meko had given her. He scrutinized the condition of her limbs and torso. He pressed the tip of the cane hard against her bound wrist, testing the integrity of the shackles and her ability to endure pain.
"Strong build, small but agile," he continued, circling her again. He checked the length of her legs and the condition of her feet, ignoring her frantic, humiliated expression. "The swift ones are always popular for entertainment, though harder to break."
He finally stepped back, tapping the cane thoughtfully against his boot. "Yes. Very clean, very quick. A shame to feed such quality to the Jaggernauts so soon, but I am under specific orders." He smiled, a cold, predatory twist of his lips. "Let's see if your will is as strong as your body."
He snapped his fingers, and the heavy chains around Katarina's wrists and ankles suddenly gave a powerful, rough yank, pulling her deeper into the red-lit chamber.