Soren
Soren's heart hammered in his chest as the heavy silver gates of the Oakhave loomed ahead.
Returning to Oakhaven felt like crawling back into the throat of a beast, but Eira was right.
They couldn't stay in the mountains. There was a sea of Wardens waiting for them there. The only way out was to go back in.
Soren led them through the grout of the Lower-Tier, a ghost town of a district with abandoned warehouses and soot-stained bricks.
"Stay close," Soren whispered, his hand hovering near the hilt of his knife. "The people here don't care about the law."
Eira nodded, her hood pulled so low it obscured her face.
Her damp clothes clung to her skin, sending shivers through her frame.
They reached the back alley of the apothecary just as the bells of the High-Tier chimed for the evening watch. Soren signalled twice, a sharp tap against the stone.
The door didn't open for a few minutes.
Then, a small wooden grate slid back, revealing Mrs. Gable's weary blue eyes.
She stared at them in disbelief. "Soren?"
He nodded as he frantically glanced over his shoulder. "We need to get in."
"You're supposed to be halfway to the peaks," she hissed, her voice cracking with tension.
"The passes are burned," Soren said. "They were waiting for us."
The door swung open just wide enough for them to slip through.
Inside, the shop was dark, the only light coming from the glowing embers in the hearth.
Milla was there, sitting at the sorting table with her head in her hands. When she saw them, she surged to her feet.
"You idiots," Milla whispered, throwing her arms around Eira. "The flares... we saw them from the bakery roof. The whole city is talking about the violet light from the river. Kaelen has doubled the patrols at every gate."
"That's why we're here," Eira said, pulling back. "They think we're running away. They won't expect us to be sitting right under their noses."
Mrs. Gable locked the door and barred it with a heavy iron rod. "Kaelen isn't looking for a light. He's looking for you."
Eira froze. "Me? Why? I haven't done anything."
"He went to your father's house," Milla said, her voice trembling. "He found the empty tincture bottles. He's telling the Council that Soren kidnapped Master Elian's daughter and drugged her. He's turned you into a victim to make the hunt for Soren a 'rescue mission.' It gives him the authority to search every house in the Mid-Tier without a warrant."
Soren felt a cold surge of rage. "He's using her."
"Which means we can't stay here," Mrs. Gable added, pointing toward the floor. "Get to the cellar. Now. Milla has brought blankets and enough food for two days. Do not make a sound."
Soren led Eira down the narrow, ladder-like stairs into the dark.
He helped Eira settle onto a bundle of hay and wool blankets. She was still shivering, her teeth clicking together. Soren sat beside her, the violet light of his lantern casting long shadows against the walls
"He won't stop," Eira whispered, her voice small. "Kaelen. He won't stop until he finds us."
Soren reached out, his hand finding hers in the dim light. He squeezed her fingers. "Then we don't let him find us. We'll wait for the festival. And then we disappear for real."
They sat in the silence for hours, but sleep wouldn't come.
Above them, the floorboards suddenly creaked. Soren put a finger to his lips, and they both went still, listening to the muffled voices of Mrs. Gable and a man they didn't recognize.
"The Council is terrified, Gable," the man's voice rasped. "The High-Tier is losing its grip. The supply of pure amber fuel is running dry, and the lanterns in the spires are starting to dim."
Soren's grip tightened on the handle of his light.
"They believe a corrupted flame is a source of raw unrefined energy," the man continued. "Just think about it. The feeling of guilt from a criminal… a murderer is much stronger than any standar light. Kaelen thinks if he can harvest that violet core, he can solve the fuel crisis and secure his seat on the Council forever."
Eventually, the voices upstairs faded. Soren looked at Eira, who was staring at the lead-lined ceiling.
"Eira," he said, "Are you sure about this? Leaving Oakhaven for good? You have a life here. The people here know you. Once we cross those gates during the festival, there might not be any coming back."
He hesitated, his gaze drifting to her lemon-yellow lantern. "Maybe... later, when this settles... you should come back. You're a healer. You belong in a place that has people to save."
Eira was quiet for a long time. "My father was the greatest healer this city ever knew," she said softly. "But he spent his whole life saving people within these walls, and in the end, the city still let his light go out. He always told me that a healer's hands aren't meant for a single place, but for wherever there is pain."
She looked at Soren, her expression firm. "I'll come back one day, Soren. I will. But first, I want to see if I can heal people beyond Oakhaven. I want to see if there's a world out there where a light like yours doesn't have to hide in a cellar."
Soren reached out, his hand finding hers in the dim light. He squeezed her fingers, his grip firm. "Then we wait for the festival and the crowd. And then we disappear for real."