And I’d rather bleed fast. At least then it’s my blood, my choice.
I breathe once. Just once. And I make the call.
Time to pay a visit to Ezzy’s friend Brian—the lanky tunnel guard with a Thread theory fetish and no survival instinct. If I die trying to get out, at least it’s on my terms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The dorm’s dark, lit by a thin wash of moonlight slipping through the narrow window. Across from me, Ezzy’s out cold—one hand tucked under her chin, breath slow and even. She came in about an hour after I did. I kept still, pretended to sleep, and waited for her, for the Citadel, to do the same.
Now that she has, I should get moving.
My pack’s waiting by the door. Mum’s journal tucked safe inside, along with Ezzy’s blade. I didn’t want it on me, better Brian thinks I’m harmless. Easier that way. But instead, I’m still lying here, staring at the ceiling like it has answers while the pressure under my ribs keeps climbing. I’ve counted the same four cracks in the stone ten times, but I keep going, because the moment I stop, I’ll have to move.
And I’m not ready.
My palms are already damp, there's a twitch in my leg I can’t shake. I tell myself to breathe slower, to focus, but all I can think about is the tunnels. What’s waiting down there. If there’s even a way out.
I don’t know what I’ll find... or if I’ll make it back.
But that doesn’t change the plan. One shot, get out, get back to Bren, and try not to die doing it.
“No,” Ezzy stirs, fingers twitching under the blanket. My breath catches,shit, she's waking up. “No… Truth Strings can only be given freely…”
Sleep talking.
She’sjustsleep talking.
But I hold still, lungs locked tight, just in case. If she wakes now, if she sees me, what the hell would I even say?
Maybe she’d try and convince me to stay, hide out here till I thought of a new plan? Maybe I should? But I’ve already gone over every angle, and there’s nothing left.This is it.
I slip out from under the covers, the ache in my chest sharp as I move, arm pulsing in protest, but I keep quiet, keep steady, and cross the room slow, careful not to wake her.
At the door, I pause, one breath held, one last glance over my shoulder. Then I slip out.
The latch clicks shut behind me, a sound too loud in the hush. For a moment, I just stand there, pulse loud in my ears, letting the cold of the corridor settle into my skin. Then I start walking, one foot, then the next.
A light flickers in the distance. Instinct kicks me back against the wall, breath snagging tight—but it’s only a lantern swaying on its hook. I let the moment ease out of me and move again, steady pace, steady pulse. Just get to Brian. Unseen, unheard
Still, a shiver slips down my spine, and not just from the cold, because something’s off. I expected footsteps, officers on rotation. Something, anything. But there’s nothing. No patrols. No guards. Just the sound of my own breathing, too loud in the quiet. The soft scuff of my boots on stone, no matter how carefully I move.
I slow my steps. Try to make less noise. But the silence clings, thick and unnatural. The Citadel doesn’t feel like a fortress at night; it feels like a fucking tomb.
I guess it makes sense, why would they need guards patrolling at night? No one apparently wants to get out. Not really. Even if they could, I doubt anyone would try... The students here? They're not locked in by chains; they're held by belief.I saw it in their eyes. The way they looked at that guru in white during the Initiation Brief, like he was some kind of god.
Vaelric Serrane, Sovereign Minister of the fucking Citadel. He doesn’t rule with fear, he doesn’t have to. It’s not discipline, it’s devotion. This place isn’t a school, it’s a shrine. A gilded cage built in stone.
The air grows heavier, colder the deeper I go. Moving faster now, hugging the shadows, keeping close to the walls, careful not to trip over my own damn feet as I slip down the main stairwell and past the lecture theatre from earlier. I don’t look at it. Don’t need the memory playing back. Another shiver cuts down my spine, too many ways that could’ve gone worse.
Somewhere in front of me, a door creaks. I freeze, breath lodged in my throat. Then, soft paws, a flick of a black tail. Just a cat. Just a bloody cat. Shaking it off, I drop my shoulders, exhale, and keep moving. Past the Rec Hall, down another flight, until my steps slow near the end—three corridors converging at a narrow junction, the east tunnel dead ahead.
I hang back, peering around the corner, careful to stay out of sight.
One figure steps into view. Tall, lanky, all elbows and awkward energy. Brian.Perfect. I edge a little closer, then stop. Another shape moves behind him. Broader. Stronger.
Tension locks through me, the rhythm in my chest faltering before slamming harder.Shit.
Had there always been two guards here? I can’t remember. I should have paid more attention when Ezzy showed me around—but I’d just been arrested, silenced, handed my mother’s journals, and told someone wanted me dead. So yeah, maybe I missed a detail or two...
