Her hands shook. Her teeth chattered. Her jaw clenched so tight that pain spiraled into her temples. Each Veilstep came jagged, desperate, her arrows sharper, harsher, as though her body was no longer hers but the bow’s—no longer hers buthis.
I am in you. Every breath, every arrow. Let me out and we shall be infinite.
Red light erupted underfoot. Runes flared, searing into her Manasight. A net of threads snapped tight around her, barbed and merciless.
A ward.
Ascendant rank.
Snaking around her body and crushing the air out of her lungs. She tried to blur, to rip herself into the Veil one last time—but the web held. Runes sank barbs into her veins, and the magic refused her. Her Veilstepfailed, and she careened sideways. The containment web dragged her to the floor, ripping her Weaving from her veins.
MOVE!
:: Too late. ::
Ember mine…
She screamed as silence crashed down, her magic choking like a smothered flame. An inescapable force slammed her to the ground. She nearly lost consciousness as the side of her face hit stone, grit grinding into her mouth, the copper sting of blood filling her nose. Shackles bit cold into her wrists. A gag sealed her mouth. A blindfold pressed darkness into her eyes.
And the voices—all of them—wentquiet.
… mine …
… ember…
… ember mine…
… wake… do not let them…
… take you from me…
:: Release…me…I…sto…hold… ::
Auryn opened her eyes to nothing but blinding, overwhelming white. Marble surrounded her on all sides, smooth and shining. Not veined, not stone-kissed—only white. A sterile, devouring absence swallowing shadow, sound, and even breath. The walls rose smooth and seamless, their surfaces so polished they shimmered with cold light. No banners. No carvings. No witness of history. Just endless pale silence.
A single podium loomed at the far end of this vastness, carved of the same merciless stone. Behind it, rows of tiered benches stood in rigid lines, each one fashioned for judgment, not comfort. Rows of faces looked back at her. Masked. Hooded. Bodies covered in white robes of anonymity.
But it was the center that drew her eye.
The altar stood alone. A slab of marble, unadorned, unsoftened, awaiting sacrifice. Upon it rested a long metal case, a thing of white-gold inlaid with runes so deep they pulsed without a mage’s guidance. To the naked eye, it reflected the chamber’s light. But through Auryn’s Manasight…
It screamed.
The walls themselves bled with echoes. Mana did not flow here—itrecoiled, shredded into threads, dissolving into nothing. In every corner, remnants clung like ash to blood. Tatters of souls, their resonance clawing for release and finding none. Their grief pooled against the white until the very air trembled with it.
:: …never should …ru…un…sto… ::
They cannot cage you, emberling. Not while I breathe in your bones.
Whispers hissed through her mind, voices no one else could hear; pleas cut short, cries of agony, the silence after breath’s end. She tasted dead skin on her tongue. Ice crept into her chest. Hands pushed her forward, and each step dragged her deeper into the graveyard of endless executions, where even the world’s color had ceased to exist from the depths of its mourning.
This was not purity. It was obliteration dressed in stolen purpose.
The faces looked on as she was dragged and shoved. Seven figures sitting around the podium.
Councilors.
Expressionless.
