Then another bride came to their camp, traded from a neighbouring village. “She showed me how to grind certain roots together,” Leywani said quietly, her voice tinged with a bitter kind of gratitude. “To stop myself from bearing his children.” Her jaw tightened. “It was the only freedom I had, the only choice I could make for myself.”
She recounted the fleeting relief that washed over her whenever her husband left to hunt for days, followed by thelooming shadow of his return. Her voice sharpened when she described the day the First Legion descended on their camp. How the men had fought back, but it had been futile. With a sharp edge of satisfaction, she confessed the grim spark of joy that lit within her when her husband fell, even as her own fate hung in the balance.
“But the quarry,” she continued with a slight tremble, “that was a different torment. The shifts were endless, the accidents too common. Never enough food or water. Just work until your body collapsed.” Her gaze hardened. “But I never gave up. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t meant to die there—not like that.”
Katell listened, saying nothing, her throat too tight to speak, faced with Leywani’s resilience.
“And then, Alena came,” Leywani said, her expression softening for the first time. “She snuck into the camp, looking for her friends—the Non-Humans.”
Katell frowned. “Non-Humans?”
“A mother and her boy,” Leywani explained. “The mother was in bad shape after an accident, but Alena didn’t give up. She created a distraction, went after the soldiers who’d taken the boy, and brought him back to his mother.” Leywani paused. “When San—the mother—died, Alena was devastated. But still, she didn’t stop.”
Leywani’s expression darkened. “Gortynius—a cruel, evil man—found her and beat her in front of his men. Badly. For a moment, I thought he would kill her, but she did something to him. I’m not sure what, but there was a flash of light, and suddenly his Gift was hers.”
“Wind magic?” The memory of Alena wielding that very Gift in Tiryns flashed through Katell’s mind.
Leywani nodded. “Exactly.”
Katell leaned back against the damp wall. Interesting. So her sister could take other Gifts? Was that how she’d collected so many?
“Alena…” Leywani faltered, glancing down before meeting Katell’s gaze. “Alena gave us hope again. And the Rasennans… they’re scared of her. I heard them talking—about Tiryns, about how the siege was broken. But they called her by another name. Omega.”
Katell’s heart skipped a beat. Omega. Like the golden Mark on the back of her sister’s hand.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant drip of water, both lost in their thoughts.
Finally, Leywani spoke, her voice soft yet probing. “And you? Will you tell me what happened after you were exiled? Scylas told me about the elders… his grandfather had it coming, we all knew that. But then, where did you go?”
Katell hesitated, her fingers curling into the rough fabric of her tunic. A hundred memories clamoured for attention—painful, jagged moments she struggled to bury. But as always, there was something about Leywani that made her feel safe, seen. This was her childhood friend who knew her better than anyone, and so, after exhaling a deep breath, Katell spoke.
She told Leywani about the slavers who had captured her, about Alena’s daring escape with Leukos, and how she’d ended up in Bruna’s pit. The words spilled out raw and unfiltered—Sinope, Nik, the Samnites, the patrons. She spoke of the crushing despair, and of the small, stubborn ember of hope that had kept her going.
Talking about it felt strange at first, like reopening an old wound. But as she continued, the weight she’d carried since Dodona began to lighten. She hadn’t shared herself so openly in a long time—not even with Dorias.
Leywani listened, her attention never leaving Katell. When Katell finished, Leywani placed a hand over her heart—a silent offering of comfort, the closest she could manage with the distance between them.
Then, softly at first, Leywani began to sing.
It was Katell’s favourite: the Freefolk song from the Moon festival. The familiar melody filled the cell, weaving through the cracks in the stone and softening the oppressive air. In that moment, it was the most beautiful sound Katell had ever heard.
The song wrapped around her like a long-lost embrace, stirring something deep within her chest. She hugged her knees close, her breathing shaky as warm tears spilled down her cheeks. Images of her past assailed her—Alena’s face, younger and brighter; her laugh echoing in the back of Katell’s mind, a ghost from another life.
The ache of her sister’s absence welled, filling Katell with a raw emptiness she’d tried to ignore for so long.
And now, it was too late.
A half-moon appeared through the small window high in their cell. Katell stared at its silver light, and another face came to mind—one framed by a teasing smile.
If you ever need help, Kat, just send word, and I’ll come. No matter what.
“You can’t beat them, you idiot,” she whispered to the moon. “Stay safe and look after Alena for me.”
A distant door groaned open, the harsh echo bouncing off the stone walls like a warning, and Leywani fell silent. Heavy footsteps followed, accompanied by the metallic jangle of armour. The dim corridor ahead flickered to life. Guards in rich purple cloaks entered, their torches casting long, dancing shadows across the walls.
Katell got to her feet, heart hammering as the guards lined the hallway. Then came Dorias, striding between the ranks. Hisfamiliar legate armour gleamed in the torchlight, but it was not his presence that sent a chill down Katell’s spine—it was the man who followed him, surrounded by more guards.
Tall and imposing, he wore a magnificent purple tebenna adorned with gold threads that shimmered with every step. Rings glinted on his fingers, their weight a testament to his power. The circlet of golden leaves resting upon his brow left no doubt as to who he was—the Emperor.
