Kaelen
"Move!" Kaelen barked.
At his command, four more Wardens dropped into the cellar.
They were the heavy-hitters, armoured in thick plate that groaned with every movement. They didn't have names; they were merely iron extensions of Kaelen's will.
Soren sat upright, his fingers clawing at the dirt, but the jagged wound in his thigh betrayed him.
He collapsed back to his knees, a snarl of agony escaping his teeth. Before he could recover, two Wardens slammed down into the cellar.
"Bind him," Kaelen ordered. "Use the silver-threaded manacles. If he so much as moves, break a finger."
Soren was dragged up the remains of the ladder, his boots dragging across the dirty floorboards.
Eira was hoisted up by her elbows, her feet barely touching the ground.
As they were hauled through the apothecary shop, the destruction was everywhere.
Mrs. Gable was slumped in the corner, her hands bound, her face pale with shock. She caught Eira's eye for a fraction of a second.
Then, they hit the morning air.
Three horses stamped their hooves against the cobblestones, and a wall of Wardens cordoned off the surrounding building.
The neighbours stood behind the line, their faces masks of terror.
The white light of Soren's lantern, held high by Kaelen, sliced through the grey dawn. It was too bright, too pure. It made the Wardens' amber lanterns look like rotting fruit.
"Kaelen!"
A voice cut through the noise.
Mr. Crelle stepped out from the line of horses.
He was the man who stopped by Milla's bakery every morning for a cinnamon roll and a kind word.
He stopped dead when he saw the procession. He looked at the white light, then at the blood-soaked boy being dragged like a carcass, and finally at Eira.
"Kaelen, what the hell are you doing?" Crelle demanded.
"I am securing the fugitive," Kaelen said. "And rescuing the Master Elian's daughter."
"Rescuing her?" Crelle stepped into Kaelen's path, forcing the line to halt. He looked at Eira. "She's covered in blood because your men are dragging her like an animal. This boy is barely conscious, Kaelen. And that light?"
"It is Council business, Crelle," Kaelen hissed, "Step aside. You're a Mid-Tier patrolman. You don't have the clearance to question a High-Tier execution."
"I have the clearance of a man with eyes!" Crelle gestured to the crowd, who were beginning to murmur. "The boy was a suspect for the bridge. Why is he covered in silver? Why aren't we taking him to the infirmary?"
"Because he is a monster," Kaelen spat. "Look at the light, you fool. Do you see amber? Do you see yellow? Or red? No. It's an anomaly. It's the very thing that's been starving our lanterns."
Eira found her voice. "He's lying! The light changed because… because he saved me! Kaelen wants to use him as fuel. He told us in the cellar!"
The crowd gasped. The word fuel was almost like a curse in Oakhaven.
Crelle's eyes hardened. He looked at Eira, then at Soren, who had managed to lift his head. Soren's face was deathly pale, his eyes clouded with pain. The white light in between them didn't look like theft. It looked like a miracle.
"Is this true, Commander?" Crelle asked. "Are we harvesting citizens now?"
"We are saving the city!" Kaelen roared, the mask finally slipping. The crazed grin Eira had seen in the cellar returned. "The High-Tier is dimming! The Council is terrified! If we don't have this," he shook the white lantern, "Oakhaven goes dark by the winter. Would you rather have 'justice' for one murderer, or would you rather have your own children freeze in your home?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Kaelen had laid the bare, ugly truth. The desperate trade on which Oakhaven was built.
Crelle looked at the surrounding Wardens.
Some looked away, their paycheck outweighing their conscience. Others, younger men who had grown up in Kaelen's group, held their pikes tighter.
"You're overstepping," Crelle said softly. "The Council didn't authorize any type of harvest. They authorized an arrest."
"I am the Council's hand today," Kaelen replied. He signalled to the lead Warden. "If Crelle interferes further, arrest him for treason. We move to the Citadel. Now!"
Crelle was shoved aside by the vanguard. He stood in the middle of the street, watching as Soren was hauled away, the white light burning a path through the Mid-Tier.
Eira looked back one last time. She saw Crelle standing there, his face a mask of defeat. She saw Milla in the distance, her apron stained with flour, clutching a rolling pin like a weapon.
"Don't give up!" Eira screamed, the sound echoing off the narrow walls.
As they climbed up the stairs toward the High-Tier gates, the white light flared once, a small pulse against the grey morning.
Kaelen didn't care about the whispers or the dissent.
He had the fuel.
He had the girl.
As the heavy silver gates of the High-Tier began to groan open, he knew he was minutes away from becoming the most powerful man in Oakhaven.
But as Soren's blood left a dark trail on the white stones of the High-Tier, the white flame grew hotter.
Kaelen's glove began to smoke, the silver plating turning black, but he refused to let go.
He would hold onto it until it consumed him.