I try to raise up, to see more of my surroundings, but my body barely responds. Not from weakness or sedatives this time, but from something else. I glance down and see the reason for my immobility. Thick bands of polished basilyx lead encircle my wrists and the midpoint of my tail, anchoring me in place.
Shackles.
The last time I found myself held captive was caged by worms.
Fury rises within me along with panic, hot and sudden as a flame catching dry timber. "What is this?" I demand, jerking against the restraints with as much strength as I can muster. The lead holds firm, cutting into my scales with each movement.
"It is for your safety," the healer says, stepping back from my thrashing form. "Until you are fully healed."
"My safety does not require restraints," I snarl, the fury giving me strength I should not possess in my condition. "What is this place? Where is Serin?"
A shadow falls across the platform, and I turn to see Salvor slithering into view beside the healer. His scales gleam in thedim light, his expression as controlled as ever. But something has changed in his bearing, a subtle shift that I failed to notice earlier through the haze of sedatives.
Salvor's voice flattens into the emotionless cadence of command. "You should not agitate yourself, Lurok. Lethira has only just managed to stabilize your condition.”
"Remove these shackles, worm," I command, my voice dropping to a deadly hiss. "Now! And tell me where Serin is."
Salvor studies me, his peridot gaze unreadable. After a moment, he gestures to the healer, Lethira, who bows slightly and retreats from the chamber, leaving us alone.
"Where is this place, Salvor?" I demand again, forcing my voice to steadiness despite the rage pulsing through me. "This is not the Temple."
"No," he agrees, his tail coiling and uncoiling in a gesture of consideration. "It is not."
"Then where?"
He meets my gaze directly, and what I see there freezes me to the bone despite the heat of my anger. There is no apology in his eyes, no regret. Only cold certainty.
"Within the labyrinth of the TrueCoil,” he says simply.
The words land like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. TrueCoil. Not merely traitors like the worms who serve the human general, but zealots who believe in naga supremacy above all else. Fanatics who view any association with humans as a corruption of bloodlines that must be purged with fire and steel.
"You..." I breathe, the full implication settling over me like a shroud. "You are one of them."
Salvor tilts his head, neither confirming nor denying, but his silence is answer enough.
“What of the worms who plan to collapse Vessan-Kar?” I struggle in vain against my bonds. “Two days remain until theydetonate their explosives. Surely you are not stupid enough not to heed the warning.”
"The Sovereign Flame has been apprised of the worms’ plans. Despite the fact that he has been compromised by the human to whom he is bound, his judgment can be trusted in this,” Salvor says, his words carrying layers of disgust.
My thoughts race as I piece together this new reality. If I am a captive of the TrueCoil, then Serin?—
Ice floods my veins. Sweet Ancients, Serin! A human among those who hate her kind with religious fervor.
“You had better not have harmed her.”
"The human is alive," Salvor replies, his tone suggesting this is a mercy I should appreciate. "For now."
I stare at him, this Talon I thought I knew, this comrade whose blade I once trusted at my back. "She saved my life," I say, each word precise and sharp as broken glass. "She risked everything to warn Vessan-Kar."
"Yes," Salvor agrees, his expression unchanged. "And that information was valuable to us.”
They are worse than worms. Worse than humans. The TrueCoil does not merely seek advantage or territory. They seek purification through elimination. They will not rest until every drop of human blood is spilled, until every trace of human influence is erased from naga existence.
To them, Serin is disposable. With her gentle hands and unexpected courage, she has been delivered directly into the hands of her enemy.
Because of me. The realization settles in my gut like molten lead, heavy and burning. I stare at Salvor, at the naga I once called brother-in-arms, and see only a stranger wearing the scales of a comrade.
"What does the TrueCoil want with her?" I demand, fighting to keep the desperation from my voice.
