Soren
Inside, the walls of the Citadel were made of polished obsidian that drank the light and took it out as distorted reflections.
There were no windows, only high, arched ceilings that disappeared into thin mist. The air tasted of herbs and ancient, pressed flowers.
Soren felt the Wardens' hands leave his tunic. He felt suspended, as if the white radiance pouring from the lantern was holding him upright.
He was at the Center. It was a cavernous room shaped like a hollow heart, and the Spire dominated the entire space.
It was a massive pillar of transparent glass, filled with swirling, dying amber currents.
The Spire was the city's natural warmer, a thermal conductor that radiated heat throughout Oakhaven's pipes and walls, keeping the mountain frost from freezing the citizens.
Kaelen shoved Soren toward the silver cradle at the base of the glass. Soren's legs gave out, his knees hitting the cold obsidian with a dull thud.
He felt the Spire's subtle hum vibrating through his bones.
"Stay back, Eira," Soren said, wincing as blood from his wound oozed to the floor.
Eira had managed to break away from the Warden's grip, stumbling toward him.
Her lemon-yellow lantern was flickering wildly, face twisted in terror. "I'm not leaving you. I can stop this. I can talk to the Council-"
"No," Soren said. He turned his head to look at her, eyes clouded with pain but sharper than she had ever seen them. "You have to go. Now."
"Soren, please-"
"Listen to me!" He gripped the edge of the silver cradle, his knuckles white. "If you stay here, they will just fold you into the machine. You're Master Elian's daughter. You have a voice out there, in the streets. You have to help your father."
"I love my father! But I also care about you!" Eira reached for his hand, but the white light flared between them.
"Eira, I'm serious," Soren's voice dropped. "I'm a murderer in their eyes. But you are not guilty. You can't die here. You have to live so that someone remembers what happened here. If you stay, we both go out. If you go, part of me will be alive. Go."
Kaelen stepped between them, his silver-trimmed cloak sweeping the floor. "He's right, Eira. Be the good daughter. Go back to your tinctures and your herbs. Let me handle the architecture of the future."
Eira's head snapped towards his figure, tears squeezing themselves out of her eyes.
"Since when did we start harvesting light?" She stood her ground, her eyes fixed on the glass pillar. "We use energy from the river. We don't use... people."
Kaelen turned to her, his face half-hidden in the white glare of Soren's lantern. "Oh, Eira. Your father didn't tell you? He was the one who certified the 'deaths' of the criminals we brought here. He signed the papers, those very papers."
He gestured to the Spire. "To keep Oakhaven warm, to keep the frost at bay, we need more. We need resonance. We use the light of the condemned, mostly murderers, because their emotions are so violent and strong that their lights burn hotter and longer than any law-abiding citizen ever could."
Eira's breath hitched, and for a second, she couldn't get it back.
She felt a sudden, cold sweat break across her neck as she looked from the Spire back to Soren's slumped form.
Her stomach turned with a sharp, sickening lurch as she realized that her father had not only been a healer.
No.
Had he been a killer?
No. He couldn't have.
But every time he had come home late with tired eyes, had he been certifying the ends of lives to keep the radiators in their house humming?
"My father... he knew?"
"He knew that without these 'donations,' Oakhaven would be a graveyard of ice within a week," Kaelen said. He stepped toward the cradle and placed the white lantern inside. "But the criminals are drying up. Their lights are getting weak. That is why we need him. A white light, born of a corrupted heart? It could power the Spire for a century. No more freezing winters."
"How the hell do you know that?! You could be wrong and just sacrificing an innocent man for nothing!"
Kaelen glared at her as the white light began to climb the glass. "You'd best keep that mouth of yours shut. I don't mind adding another flame to the Spire."
As the light left the lantern, Soren felt a tugging in his chest. It was a painful stretching sensation, as if his soul were being pulled through a needle's eye.
"Eira, go!" Soren screamed as the white light began to swirl faster.
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the higher rafters.
Julian dropped with a heavy thud, the breath leaving his lungs as he hit the floor behind the Wardens. He gripped a heavy iron crate-hook that he used every day.
He swung the iron pestle in a wide arc, smashing the nearest Warden in the side of the helmet.
"Julian!" Soren gasped.
Julian grunted. He was panting heavy, his shoulders hunched, holding the iron hook as if it would escape from his grip.
He looked terrified, but he didn't back down. He kicked a fallen pike away from a guard's reaching hand and stood his ground, his boots slipping slightly on the polished floor.
The room erupted into chaos. Kaelen drew his sword, the orange glow swimming against the white of the Spire.
"Kill the intruder!" Kaelen yelled, looking disgusted that a shop hand had made it this far.
Eira lunged for the silver cradle, trying to kick the lantern free, trying to break the circuit that was draining Soren's life.
A Warden grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back, and she let out a piercing cry.
Soren saw her fall.
He felt the Spire draining the last of his strength, but he didn't pull away.
He reached into the core of his being and pushed, forcing every ounce of remaining energy into the glass all at once.
The Spire couldn't handle the sudden surge.
The white fire inside the glass began to vibrate in intensity. The hum escalated into a shriek.
The glass began to shatter, loud cracks echoing like gunshots through the room.
Kaelen stumbled back. "You'll destroy the city! You'll freeze us all!"
With a final, violent shove, Soren kicked the silver lantern out of the cradle.
"Julian! Now!" Soren shouted, his voice cracking.
Julian swung the iron crate-hook, catching the dazed Warden near Eira and throwing him aside like a sack of grain.
He grabbed Eira's arm and lunged back for Soren.
"I've got you," Julian grunted, hooking his arm under Soren's shoulder.
"Leave the lantern," Soren hissed as Julian tried to reach for the silver casing. "Leave it."
"It's our only light," Julian argued, but the Spire gave a deafening crack. A massive shard of glass fell from the top, shattering against the obsidian floor.
Soren shook his head.
They fled. Julian carried half of Soren's weight, and Eira gripped Soren's other hand, her lemon-yellow lantern the only thing guiding them through the thickening mist.
Before long, they burst through the obsidian doors just as the interior of the Citadel went dark.
The High-Tier plaza was silent. The crowds were gone, hidden away in their homes as the streetlights began to dim.
Julian dragged them toward the service stairs, his boots crunching in the fresh snow forming on the stone floor.
"We have to get to the Mid-Tier," Julian panted. "The Wardens will be coming once they realize we're gone."
Soren looked back one last time. He saw a figure standing near the archway, watching them go.
Lyra.
She was standing perfectly still. She looked at Soren, then at Eira, who was gripping Soren's wrist so tightly her knuckles bordered on white.
Lyra's face was unreadable.
A sharp line formed in her brow. She didn't call out. Instead, she just watched the boy she had once feared disappear into the lower city.
"We're going home," Julian whispered.
But as the first snowflake landed on Soren's cheek, he knew home was a place that didn't exist anymore.