I ducked into the room and waited.The marching continued.Relentless.Rhythmic.Unending.
When the sound of the boots passed, I risked a peek out the door.Down the hall, shoulder to shoulder in two rows, robed and masked figures marched with mechanical precision.Their uniforms were similar to those of the Sentinels but different enough that these people would not be mistaken for them.Each had a sword sheathed at their side.
These were Sentinelsoldiers.
Verrin hadn’t lied.
This was an army.
But as horrible as it was, it was nothing compared to what I saw when I turned into the room.
Hundreds of people were bound to wooden racks, naked, their eyes open but unfocused, their faces twisted into grotesque silent screams.Tubes ran in and out of them, carrying amber liquid shimmering with the glow of Ember.The racks continued deep into the room, as far as I could see.
My stomach lurched at the horror before me.
These people were Emberborn.
These weremypeople.
Enslaved.
I had to get out of there as fast as I could.
The only choice was to rescue Darion and get back to the Order, then escape with Elena and hope Darion would join us.The city wasn’t safe anymore, not with Tarnasau building an army and spies in our midst.I would warn the Order, tell them about the prisoners here, and drop off the Emberbane, but we needed to leave as soon as that was done.
I dashed down the stairs as fast as stealth would allow, following the map in my mind.Soon I reached the entrance to the cells, which was unguarded.Luck was finally on my side.
The hallway I entered resembled a dungeon, with stone walls and a dirt floor.A long row of cells stretched along one side.The occasional flickering torch provided dim light, but there were plenty of shadows to hide in.
I made my way down the corridor, peeking into each cell.I recognized some of the prisoners from the transport, so I had made it to the correct place.But no Darion yet.
Finally, I reached a cell, and I knew before I even saw his face—it was Darion.He was sitting on the ground with his back to the wall, an arm draped over one bent knee.His eyelids drooped, a sign that the fatigue from using his Ember was starting to take hold.I’d have to get him out of here soon.
But there was something else—his face was bruised.Had the guards done that?White-hot anger flew through me, and all I wanted was to comfort him.
I was about to call his name when a clatter of footsteps came down the hallway.I let out a silent curse and ducked into the shadows.
I sized up the approaching group.There were four Royal Guards led by a man—a man in burgundy robes over chain mail.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Orlik Leonom.
He wore a ring on his finger that seemed to be shimmering.Something about it felt wrong.There was a presence to it, something unseen.Like the Emberbane, Ember seemed to seep from it.
Orlik walked right past me and stopped at Darion’s cell—my literal worst nightmare.My hands shook.
But this was also an opportunity.Five against one would be a stretch, but with a smoke vial, the element of surprise, and a lot of luck, I could have my vengeance and rescue Darion all in one go.
I drew a smoke vial from my belt.
This was it.No more waiting.
“Darion!”Orlik exclaimed.“I couldn’t believe it when they said you were down here.”
Something was terribly off.Orlik’s tone was…jovial?
