So many pieces today, none of them fitting. It’s not all random. It can’t be. The dragon, its black eyes, the envelopes. This store, the same one Talen was just in. Something’s going on. I feel it crawling under my skin, heavy.
But I don’t get to stop and dwell. Lucien’s already hauling me forward.
Whatever this is… I’ll figure it out. But not now.
By the timewe’re back in the Citadel tunnels, the taste of ash has almost lifted from my tongue, my Threads have settled, just, and my ankle’s loosened just enough that I shrug off Lucien’s arm.
Not because it doesn’t still hurt, but because I don’t want his hands on me a second longer. Pain instantly shoots up my leg, but Rowan catches me, takes the extra weight without a word. I flick him a small smile, he nods back as we keep walking.
God, I thought we’d be there by now, but the tunnel just keeps going. Same damp walls. Same thin air. Over and over. If not for the occasional drip of water or the uneven scuff of our boots breaking the rhythm, I’d swear we weren’t even moving.
But we are.
And every step I take lands heavier. Colder. Each one grinding a little more dread into my spine. Because as much as I want a room, a bed—five goddamn minutes tobreathe—I’d still rather be anywhere than this hellhole.
I wasso close. I nearly made it out.
If it wasn’t for that apple... and well, theminor inconvenienceof a massive dragon showing up, I’d be long gone.
Over the wall, back home, to Bren.
But now? Now I’m being hauled right back into the bleeding heart of the Citadel, like some sick joke they couldn’t resist telling twice.
A jolt shoots up my ankle as it catches a rock, but Rowan’s grip stays firm at my side, keeping me upright. Still, I drop my head, focus on my steps, not the walls, not the stink of old magic—just the rhythm, just the ground. Easier to count steps than look at where we are. Or where we’re going.
Eventually, though, the sound of cadets and officers starts to echo ahead—shouting, boots on stone, doors slamming shut. The tunnel bends and the air shifts—more stale, more damp—then the walls start to widen. A few more steps, and we spill out into a broad, circular chamber.
Lucien keeps walking but Rowan stops short. I brace myself at his side.
It looks like a prison.
Thick stone walls curve in a full ring, broken only by heavy metal doors spaced evenly apart along its circumference. A few low candles sputter along the edges, their flames throwing long, twitching shadows across the damp floor, just enough to catch the strained expressions on the cadets lined up along the walls. Backs straight. Faces tight. Officers drifting between them, calling names, pulling them one at a time into the cells.
Everything smells sour. Old. Like mould, sweat and rusted metal.
Something in me kicks off-beat, Threads waking.Shit, what is this place? Are people being questioned? Is this about the dragon?
Chest tight and the rush climbing too fast, I scan the chamber, no Talen. No Beth or Ryven either.But they saw me run, they could’ve said something, hell, maybe they already did. Shit, what’s my plan?
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Rowan, doing my best to keep my voice level, flat, like my magic isn’t already surging up my spine.
“Contraband searches.” He replies, voice just as quiet at my side. “Standard protocol after an outside assignment. They want to make sure we’re not smuggling in anything the Citadel disapproves of.” He glances around. “Which, to be clear, iseverything.”
Fuck.I’m about to get searched and interrogated?
My throat tightens as the pulsing behind my ribs picks up. Mum’s journal is safe in the dorm, but the duck, the duck I need every day to stop me from blowing myself up, is in my pack.
Shit, shit, shit.
My gaze cuts across the chamber, scanning for any way out, an exit, a blind spot,something. But nothing. Just walls, doors, and too many uniforms. So instead I track the officers, watch their movements. There’s a rhythm to it, most of the boys get waved through, but the girls don’t... They’re pulled aside, taken into the cells. Doors slam shut behind them. A small grated window offers just enough of a view to see exactly what’s happening inside.
A door creaks open beside me as an officer steps out, smug, satisfied, followed by what looks like a first-year cadet. She’s shaking, sleeve torn, eyes glassy, unfocused.
My brows pull tight on instinct, magic pricks under my skin, itchy and restless. This isn’t about contraband, it’s about control, about power. Who they can pull apart in pieces, humiliate. Just another sick reminder of who’s in charge.
God, why did I decide to drag the duck out on a day trip? Idiot. But what choice did I have, leave it in the dorm all day and explode? Still, what the hell am I supposed to do with it now?
Okay, the boys aren’t getting searched. If I can just get it to Rowan before they call my name, maybe I walk out of this in one piece. He’s close, if I move quick, if no one’s watching... But if someone does see? One wrong move and it’s not just me getting Reassigned. It’s him too.
