"When they come through that door, do not resist."
Thorne stood by the window. The five minutes had elapsed. Footsteps echoed in the corridor—heavy boots, multiple sets.
Kaelen faced him. "You want me to submit?"
"I want you alive long enough to find answers."
A lock turned. Seven wards flared and died—magical barriers collapsing one by one. Click. Flare. Click. Flare.
The door swung open. Elder Graves entered first, six guards behind him. Ward-breaker staffs glowed blue in the guards' hands.
Graves stopped three paces inside. "Commander. Your time has concluded."
"I need more—"
"No."
Graves gestured to his guards. "Halden lives. The healers work on him still. The funeral is tonight at sunset. We have been preparing the dead since dawn. Three hundred bodies require proper rites."
Thorne moved between Kaelen and the guards. "Let me lead the ceremony. These were my men. They deserve—"
"Very well. Sunset. Then you return to quarters."
Graves approached Kaelen. "By order of the Emergency Council, you are charged and detained."
Kaelen rose from the chair. "What are the charges?"
"Murder of three hundred civilians."
Graves pulled a scroll from his robes, unrolling it. "Someone must maintain order before you burn what remains."
They are using Father's injury to seize control.
Thorne blocked Graves's path. "I am second in command—"
"Captain Corvan has been appointed acting commander. He answers to me now."
Graves closed the distance between them. "Or shall we discuss your sudden recovery? The Council has questions about forbidden magic."
Thorne's hand moved towards his belt. Graves's eyes followed the movement. Thorne lowered his arm.
"Very well. Sunset."
He faced Kaelen. "Your wrists."
The nearest guard produced iron shackles. Deep-carved runes glowed blue—etched deeper than Riven's had been.
Binding runes. But stronger.
Kaelen held out her wrists. The first shackle snapped around her wrist. "Protection." Graves's voice came from behind the guard. "For everyone."
The second shackle locked. Her flame magic guttered, flickered, died.
Another guard lifted a collar. "A weapon."
The collar snapped around her throat. Her throat closed. Where flame should flicker, emptiness spread.
A fourth guard knelt with ankle shackles. Thorne caught the man's shoulder. "Is this necessary?"
"After what happened? Absolutely."
The ankle shackles locked. Her legs buckled.
How did Riven move in these?
Thorne faced Graves. "Where are you taking her?"
"The holding cells. Until we determine her fate."
"You cannot execute her for losing control."
"Can we not? Three hundred dead, Commander. Someone must answer."
"She was defending the city!"
"She was destroying it."
Outside, voices shouted demands for justice.
Graves crossed to the window. "The people want justice. Or vengeance."
Below, torches filled the main square—fifty at least, swelling towards a hundred.
"They are assembling now. Families of the dead. All demanding answers."
Thorne joined him. "Demanding blood."
"Yes. Which is why we must act swiftly. The suppression ritual will happen three days hence."
Thorne's hand stilled on his sword hilt. "Three days? You said dawn was the deadline."
"Plans change when cities burn."
Graves gestured at the torches below. "Three days allow the crowd to calm. Allows us to ensure order before we proceed."
He approached the cell. "The same ritual we performed on your mother. We will suppress your power permanently."
"My mother died—"
Kaelen stopped. "Died screaming."
"Your mother resisted."
Graves stopped before her. "You will not resist. Will you, child?"
Kaelen held his eyes. "I already agreed to this. Nothing has changed."
"Good. Then you understand the necessity."
Graves waved the guards forward. "Escort her to the holding cells. Double watch."
Thorne caught Kaelen's arm. "Wait."
Graves considered for a moment. "One moment."
The guards stepped back. Kaelen leaned close and whispered, "Find Sebastian. He knows about Elena. About what she left behind."
"What did she leave?"
"I do not know everything. But Sebastian was there when she cast the protection spell. He knows what she did to us."
"Where do I find him?"
"The Archive. He is always in the damaged halls, sorting through the ruins."
She paused. "He will tell you what you need to know. What Elena wanted you to know."
Graves called from the doorway. "Time is concluded. Guards—take her."
Two guards gripped her arms and pulled her towards the door. Ankle shackles scraped stone with each step. She stumbled. One guard caught her elbow roughly.
"Move."
This is how Riven felt—every moment.
They passed through the doorway. More guards waited—twelve total for one shackled girl.
One guard—twenty at most, eyes red-rimmed—stopped before her. "My brother died in that square. Burned alive whilst you played with fire."
Kaelen looked at him directly. "Forgive me—I lost control—"
"Sorry does not bring him back."
He walked ahead. They descended through corridors Kaelen knew well—past the scribes' quarters, past the main library, down spiral stairs. Then lower, past sealed chambers, down and down until they reached a level she had never seen.
Blood rust covered the bars—dried to brown, years old. Cells lined both walls with iron bars and stone floors. Most stood empty, but not all.
In one cell, a woman sat on a bench. She had grey hair and tattered robes. She lurched to her feet.
Miriam gripped the bars. "Maera? Little Maera?"
Kaelen dug her heels into the stone. The guard wrenched her arm, dragging her onwards. "Keep moving."
"That woman knows my mother—"
Graves walked beside her. "Miriam Ashford." He nodded towards the cell. "Seventeen years."
"For what crime?"
"She discovered certain truths. About the plague." His mouth curved. "We silenced her. Eventually."
Miriam rattled the bars. "Liar! I know what you did to Maera! I know what you are planning for her daughter!"
Graves paused. "Miriam. You should rest."
"My mind is clear!" Miriam pressed against the bars. "Do not let them bind you! The ritual will kill you just like it killed—"
"Enough."
Graves nodded to the nearest guard. The man drew a ward-rod and pressed it against the bars. Miriam collapsed.
Kaelen pulled against her restraints. "What did you do?"
"Sedated her. For her own protection."
They reached the final cell. Inside sat a stone bench and a bucket. Strange runes marked the walls, throbbing faintly with her collar.
"In."
Kaelen stepped through. Guards removed her ankle shackles but left the wrist bindings and collar. The door slammed. Seven iron locks clicked one by one.
Graves remained near the bars. "Someone will bring food before dawn. You will need your strength."
He started down the corridor. "Elder Graves."
He paused.
"I never meant for them to die."
Graves said nothing.
"I lost control. If I could take it back—"
"But you cannot."
His footsteps faded. Kaelen sank onto the bench.
How long can I survive without my magic?
The runes on the walls flickered again, brighter this time.
. . .
Funeral fires burned at sunset. Three hundred white-wrapped bodies filled the square. Marcus is on the highest platform, sword across his chest.
Thorne faced the assembled crowd. "We light these fires not in anger, but in honour."
He raised his torch. "Marcus Aldrich. Captain of the Guard. Your duty is fulfilled."
Fire caught, climbing towards the sky. Other torches lit. A woman began singing—the old warrior's song.
Beyond the mortal field,
Where no man's sword can yield,
Our brothers wait in halls of stone,
No longer fight alone.
Thorne watched until the last fires burned to embers, then walked towards the Archive's damaged wing.
. . .
In the Archive's damaged halls, Thorne found Sebastian sorting through books.
"Commander."
Sebastian placed a burnt volume on the shelf. "I wondered when you would come."
"Kaelen said you know about Elena. About what she left behind."
"Elena discovered something before she died. I know what it was."
Sebastian set aside a scorched tome. "Are you ready to hear it?"
"I need to know what she did to us. The protection spell. The binding."
Sebastian's oath-marks—dark lines beneath his skin—beat visibly. "Elena feared the Council would repeat what they did to her. She made me promise to help you when the time came."
"What time?"
"When the Council tried to bind Kaelen's power."
Sebastian pulled a leather-bound volume from the shelf and opened it to a map. "When they tried to do to Kaelen what they did to her mother."
Thorne crossed to the table. "What do you know about the binding?"
"Everything. I was there when Elena cast the protection spell on you both." Sebastian's finger traced the map, pausing at a marked location. "But the full truth is in Elena's journal."
"Where?"
"The Sunken Vaults."
Thorne halted. "Those were sealed after the plague. Anyone who enters—"
"Dies screaming, yes. Or so the Council claims." Sebastian studied Thorne. "Elena had access. She was studying the plague victims before she died."
"Why would Mother risk infection?"
"Because she believed the Council created the plague. And she needed a place they would never search."
"Where exactly?"
"Third level. Past the quarantine chambers. In the old medical archive."
Sebastian closed the volume partway, his finger marking his place. "Elena told me herself. Two days before she died. She said if anything happened to her, I was to tell you. But only if the Council tried to bind Kaelen's power."
Thorne leaned against the table. "Why wait? Why not tell me years ago?"
"Because you were not ready. Knowledge shared too soon is dangerous. The Council monitors everything. If I had told you earlier, they would have known. They would have destroyed the journal before you could reach it."
Thorne studied the map. "What is in this journal?"
"The truth about the blood binding Elena cast. How it works. What it costs. And how to break it, if you are willing to pay the price."
"What price?"
"That is in the journal."
Sebastian handed him the volume. "Some truths are too dangerous to speak aloud, even here."
Footsteps echoed outside—heavy boots.
Sebastian straightened. "You should leave. Before they ask why you are here."
"Will they search for me?"
"Graves ordered you confined to quarters after the ceremony. They will search. But not until morning."
"Then I have until dawn."
"Perhaps. The Vaults entrance lies in the eastern wing. Past three guard stations and the night watch rotation."
Sebastian's oath-marks beat darker. "The map shows a servants' passage. Unused since the plague. It will get you past the guards."
Thorne took the map. "Sebastian—if I do not return—"
"You will return. Elena's spell ensures your return."
The marks writhed beneath his skin. "Whether you wish it or not."
"What does that mean?"
"Find the journal, Commander. Then you will understand what your mother truly did to save you both."
. . .
Twenty miles from the Archive, Riven pushed through the tavern door. The Weary Traveller sat where the North Road split—one branch to Shadowland, one to the Free Cities.
Inside, the common room buzzed with noise. Riven pulled his hood lower and found a corner table.
A woman stopped beside his table, pitcher in hand. "Ale?"
"Please."
She poured and set it down. "You travelling far?"
"Far enough."
The ale tasted like copper and ash. He listened to conversations around him.
"—saw the flames from ten miles away—"
"—whole city burned—"
"—heard it was some kind of demon—"
"—no, a girl. A flame keeper who lost control—"
Riven set down his cup and reached into his cloak. He pulled out Kaelen's pendant. Silver caught firelight.
"That piece is special."
Riven's head lifted. A grey-haired man stood beside his table—tall and lean, with a stained apron.
"Eamon's the name." He sat without invitation. "I know people who would pay a fortune for that. Passage to the Southern Isles where the Archive's reach ends."
Riven closed his fist around the pendant. "It is not for sale."
"Of course not. Merely curious."
"I prefer silence."
Eamon leaned back. "Indeed? You have the bearing of a man fleeing."
Riven finished his ale and rose. "I need to leave."
"May your journey be... enlightening."
As Riven walked towards the door, eyes followed—multiple pairs. Behind the bar, Eamon watched. Two men sat near the fire with armour hidden beneath cloaks.
Hunters.
Riven pushed through the door. Behind him came movement—chairs scraping, boots on wood. Riven did not run. Running would confirm he had something worth chasing.
He walked to the stables at a steady pace. His horse waited—a grey mare. He mounted and rode north towards Shadowland.
. . .
Riven's horse faded north. Eamon smiled and closed the shutters, then barred the door. The common room emptied until only Eamon remained.
He pulled a small mirror from beneath the bar. The mirror's surface rippled like water.
Eamon whispered into the glass. "He has the pendant. The Heartfire Pendant. Just as you predicted, my lord."
A voice answered—cold and commanding. "Follow him. But do not interfere. Let him lead us to Shadowland."
"And if he changes course?"
"He will not. Riven thinks he has betrayed everyone. Broken men always run to their masters seeking forgiveness."
"He may discover he is being tracked."
"Let him. Frightened men make mistakes."
The mirror went dark. Eamon crossed to the door where two armoured men waited.
"Mount up. Follow him north." He paused. "Stay back far enough that he does not see you. Close enough, you do not lose him."
"And if he confronts us?"
"Kill him. Take the pendant. My Master wants the artefact more than Riven alive."
Eamon watched them leave.
. . .
"Kaelen."
The whisper came through the darkness. Night had fallen. In the holding cells, Kaelen sat on the bench. Bindings throbbed with cold. She pressed her back against the wall. Where flame had flickered beneath her skin, nothing remained.
How long without magic?
The runes on the walls pulsed with her collar. Each throb sent a fresh wave of emptiness through her.
The ceremony has not happened yet. So why do I feel—
Footsteps echoed—light and quick. Not guards. Kaelen rose and crossed to the bars.
A shadow slipped between the cells—small, hooded. The hood fell back.
Lyra. Her friend from the Archive.
Lyra glanced at the stairs. Back to Kaelen. The stairs again.
Kaelen gripped the bars. "Lyra? How did you get down here?"
"Bringing you this."
Lyra pulled a package from beneath her cloak, wrapped in cloth. She passed the package through the bars.
"From Halden. He woke this morning. He sent this before the healers sedated him again."
Kaelen took it. "What is it?"
"He did not say. Just said you would know what to do when the time came."
Lyra backed towards the shadows. "I need to leave before the guards return."
"Wait—how is Halden?"
"Alive. Barely. The wound was deep. But he is strong."
She paused. "He said to tell you he is sorry. And that Elena loved you both more than you know."
"Lyra—"
But the girl was running. Her footsteps faded into darkness.
Kaelen returned, unwrapped the package, revealing a worn leather journal with Elena's handwriting and a brass key with flame script, the same key Halden used for the foundation chamber beneath the Archive.
He is helping me escape.
Kaelen opened the journal. Elena's script filled the first page.
If you are reading this, my protection spell has activated.
The journal shook. Kaelen steadied it against her knee.
It triggers when both your lives are threatened simultaneously—when the Council moves against you both at once.
The blood binding I wove between you and Thorne is the only spell keeping you both alive.
She read the next line.
But it comes with a price.
Every day you survive, the binding grows stronger. Until eventually, neither of you can live without the other.
She forced herself to continue.
This was not meant as a gift. It was meant as a leash.
If Kaelen's power ever grew too strong, the binding would ensure someone close enough to stop her. Someone who would die if they failed.
I made you her executioner, Thorne. Whether you wanted to be or not.
Forgive me.
Kaelen flipped to the next page. More notes filled the margins—diagrams, calculations. At the bottom, more writing:
The binding can be broken. But only at the Sundered Peaks. Where the original ward-builders forged their greatest works.
There is a chamber deep in the mountains. The Forge of First Fire.
If you reach it before the binding consumes you both, you might survive.
The final words stood alone on the page.
But the price for breaking the binding is steep.
One of you must burn.
Choose wisely.
Kaelen closed the journal.
One of us must burn.
Thorne or me.
Elena designed this from the beginning. A choice between murder and suicide.
The runes on the walls flared brighter. Her collar grew colder. The binding ceremony was three days away—but the cell itself was preparing her, weakening her magic, making the ritual easier.
Outside her cell, warning bells began to ring. Not celebration bells—alarm bells.
Someone had breached the eastern wing.
. . .
End of Chapter 17
. . .
Next Chapter Preview: The Sunken Vaults
Kaelen escapes her cell with a mysterious key from Halden, seeking answers to why her mother died while protecting her. Thorne descends into forbidden archives where he discovers a truth the Council has hidden for twenty years. Meanwhile, two hundred miles north, Verrian holds the stolen pendant—and with it, the power to wake something that has been sleeping in the darkness. But in the depths below the Archive, Elder Graves is waiting.