“By staging a coup?” I pull Zara behind me, assessing exits. None. We’re trapped. “By overthrowing the High Elder?”
“By taking necessary action.” He turns to face the chamber, addressing not just us but the warriors, the witnesses, everyone within hearing. “The blockade was never about negotiation. It was preparation. A test of our resolve. A way to gather forces while the surface world scrambles to respond.”
Dread coils in my stomach. “Preparation for what?”
His smile is terrible. “For reclamation.”
The High Elder’s blind eyes go wide. “Caspian, no?—”
“The Great Stone Dam.” He speaks over her, projecting to every corner of the chamber. “Ancient structure. Thousands of years old. Holds back the full force of the Silver River from the valley below. If it breaks—when it breaks—the waters will rise. Every settlement downstream will flood. Every city. Every farm. Every Sky-dweller nest.” His eyes find Zara. “Everything they’ve built on stolen land will wash away. And in the aftermath, we will rise. The waters are ours. Always have been. It’s time we took them back.”
Horror and understanding crash over me in equal measure. The blockade wasn’t the real threat. It was a distraction. While the Integration Alliance focused on the river traffic, Caspian was positioning forces at the dam. Planning genocide dressed as justice.
“You’ll kill thousands,” Zara breathes. “Innocent people. Children?—”
“Like my children?” Caspian’s voice cracks. “Like every Deep Runner child who’s died from surface contamination, from genetic collapse, from the slow extinction your people’s existence caused? This isn’t murder. It’s survival.”
“It’s madness.” The High Elder’s voice rings with authority even as warriors surround her. “Caspian, I command you to stand down. Release me. Release them. We will discuss?—”
“We’re done discussing.” He gestures, and two warriors seize the High Elder’s arms. She struggles, water rising in defense, but there are too many. They lift her bodily from her platform, and she cries out—a sound I’ve never heard from her, raw and shocked.
I move without thinking, water gathering at my hands. But Zara’s hand on my arm stops me. Through the bond, I feel her warning: we’re outnumbered. Fighting now means dying. We need another approach.
She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right.
Caspian watches the High Elder being carried away—not harmed, but removed. “Protective custody,” he announces. “The High Elder requires rest. Her judgment has been compromised by age. Until she recovers, I will assume emergency authority.”
“This is treason,” I say flatly.
“This is survival.” He turns to me, and something almost like regret flickers across his face. “I’m sorry, Torin. I truly am. You were a good Sentinel once. Before she corrupted you.” His gaze shifts to Zara. “The Sky Witch has to answer for what she’s done.”
“She hasn’t done anything.” I step fully in front of Zara, making myself the larger target. “The bond between us is real. The transformation is mutual. She’s not a witch—she’s my mate.”
“Then you’re both guilty.” Caspian’s expression hardens. “Of treason. Of collaboration with the enemy. Of crimes against our people.” He looks to his guards. “Take them to the Oubliette. Let the tides decide their fate.”
“Elder,” one of his lieutenants says, “shouldn’t we execute them now? The traitor knows our patrol routes, our defenses?—”
“The Oubliette is execution,” Caspian cuts him off. “Slower, yes, but certain. The tides don’t fail, and I won’t give the moderates a martyr’s death to rally behind. Let them drown inthe dark, forgotten. By the time the tide rises, I’ll be at the dam. By the time they’re dead, the ritual will be complete. And by the time anyone thinks to look for them—” His smile is cold. “—there won’t be a surface world left to care.”
He turns to leave, then pauses. “Double the guard rotation. No one speaks to them. No one feeds them. Let the water take what’s left of their hope before it takes their lives.”
The Oubliette. The punishment cell deep beneath the Citadel. Stone-sealed. Pitch dark. And it fills with water at high tide—slowly, inexorably, until the prisoner either drowns or goes mad waiting.
Warriors move toward us. I shift into a defensive stance, water rising, ready to fight even though it’s hopeless. But Zara’s hand finds mine, and through the bond, I feel her determination.
Not yet. Don’t fight yet. We need to stay alive long enough to stop him.
She’s right again. Fighting now just gets us killed faster.
I let them take us.
They bindour wrists with enchanted kelp-rope—the kind that dampens magic. The irony isn’t lost on me. I used the same rope on Zara when I first captured her. Now we’re both prisoners of my own people.
The walk to the Oubliette is silent. Caspian doesn’t accompany us—too busy consolidating power, probably. Announcing his coup to the rest of the Citadel. Spinning his narrative of the corrupted Sentinel and the Sky Witch who led him astray.
Part of me wonders if they’ll believe it. Another part doesn’t care. Because the bond tells me Zara’s terror is rising with every step downward.
We descend into the deepest levels of the Citadel. Past the living quarters, past the training halls, past the archives and workshops. Down to where the stone is rough and old, carved by the first Deep Runners who sought refuge in the deep. Down to where the water is always cold and the light barely reaches.
