The floorboards above groan. A heavy thud—someone just jumped off a table. Dust drifts down through the cracks, coating my tongue with the taste of ancient dirt..
Clink Thud. Clink..
Spurs Real soldiers.
"The Bell-Ringer's trail ends here," a voice rasps from above. It's sharp, commanding.
"He was supposed to deliver the girl to the border three days ago. If he's fallen, the 'Holy Seed' is likely still in this village."
"Sir, the clinic is empty," a younger voice replies.
"Do you think a local is hiding her?"
"If they are, they'll burn with her. The Cathedral doesn't tolerate lost property. Check the floor. Every inch."
Liora's fingers dig into my arm. Her eyes are wide, trembling. She recognizes that voice.
"Julian..." she breathes, her voice a ghost of a sound.
She starts to stand, her hand reaching for the stairs. She thinks it's a rescue. In her head, her cousin is here to take her home.
Plunge. I pin her against the damp stone wall, my palm slamming over her mouth.
"Don't," I hiss into her ear. My heart is hitting my ribs like a trapped bird. "Listen to him. Really listen."
Through the cracks, the male voice—Julian—speaks again. His tone is cold enough to freeze blood.
"If the girl has been tainted by the woods, we don't bring her back to the Cathedral. We 'purify' the site. I won't have a corrupted branch on my family tree. Find the girl, or find her corpse. Either way, this village ends tonight."
Liora goes limp. The hope in her eyes dies, replaced by a hollow, flickering terror. She stops struggling. She finally realizes that to the Inquisition, she's just a lost item that might be broken.
"Satay here," I mouth, pointing to the shadows.
I start to crawl toward the back. My lungs burn. Every movement feels like dragging my skin over jagged glass.
There it is. Beneath a rotted rug, a single plank sits too high.
I hook my fingers under the edge. The wood groans.,
Upstairs the pacing stops.
"Did you hear that?"
"Rats, sir. The place is a dump."
"No. That was wood on wood."
I don't wait. I rip the plank up. Inside the hollow, a small vial sits in a bed of velvet. The liquid inside is a swirling, violent orange and black. The Soul Exception.
I shove it into my tunic just as the ceiling above us explodes.
The Fire and the Fallout
"BURN IT!" Julian's roar echoes from the street. "If the girl won't show herself, smoke her out!"
Orange light flickers through the cracks. The heat rises in a heartbeat. The Inquisition isn't searching anymore—they're executing.
"Leo, the stairs!" Liora screams.
"No, the back hatch!"
We scramble out of the cellar just as the clinic's roof groans and collapses. The village is a nightmare. Three houses are already roaring in flames. The silver knights are patrolling the perimeter, blades drawn, waiting for anyone to run.
"Run for the trees!" I bark.
We Sprint. My boots hit the mud, my vision swimming. We dive behind a stone trough just as a rain of sparks falls over us.
I reach into my tunic..
Empty
I look back. The glass vial is lying in the middle of the road, ten feet from the burning clinic. It must have slipped when I lunged for Liora in the cellar.
"Leo! No!",
I turn back toward the fire without hesitation. But without that potion, Alisa is gone. I turn and sprint back toward the wall of fire.
The heat is a physical wall, screaming against my skin, but I don't feel it. All I see is that small, flickering glint of glass in the center of the inferno. My lungs pull in ash. Every breath is a jagged blade.
"LIORA!"
Julian'svoice booms from the end of the street. He sees her. His silver armor catches the orange light, making him look like a sun-god descending into hell.
"Liora! Get away from the Fire!"
Butshe doesn't move. She stands frozen in the swirling black smoke, her small hand pointing toward the clinic as it begins to fold in on itself.
"SAVE HIM!" she screams, a raw, broken sound that tears through the roar of the flames.
"JULIAN, PLEASE! THE BOY IS STILL IN THERE! SAVE LEO!"
Thefront wall of the clinic explodes. A wave of superheated air slams into the street, throwing Julian back.,
The front wall of the clinic explodes.
A wave of superheated air slams into the street, throwing Julian back.
Inside, the world is red and heavy.
A massive, burning timber has pinned me to the floor. The weight is crushing the life out of me, and the smell of my own charred clothes fills my nose. I reach out, my fingers trembling, scratching against the hot dirt until they finally close around the cold, smooth glass of the vial.
Got you.
But the victory is hollow. The moment my fingers tighten around the glass, the heat from the surrounding inferno triggers the unstable prototype.
The vial shatters.
Not from a fall, but from the inside. A sharp, muffled pop echoes in the small space, and I feel the liquid—the orange and black storm—evaporate against my palm in a useless hiss of steam.
It's gone. The only thing left in my hand are jagged shards of hot glass.
My vision begins to fray at the edges, turning gray and hazy.
I look at the empty, broken glass in my hand and then at the collapsing roof above me.
"…No."
I'm sorry, Alisa, I think, a single hot tear tracing a clean line through the soot on my face. I'm sorry I was just a peasant playing at being a hero. I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone in that cold room, I should have done better... I think of Kael, Elian, and. I was their only hope, their secret weapon, and here I am—dying, because I couldn't even protect a single bottle.
I failed you all.
Suddenly, there is a silver flash. A blade made of moonlight slices through the burning timber above me.
It isn't an act of mercy; I can feel the hatred radiating off the man who just saved me. Julian didn't do this for me.
He did it because he couldn't let his cousin see him let a 'monster' burn. Or so I thought.
He hauls me out by my collar like a piece of refuse, dragging my limp body through the embers and throwing me into the freezing mud at Liora's feet.
I try to look up, but my eyes are ruined. The world is a blur of shadow and painful light. I am hollowed out, my mana core cold and silent.
Julian stands over me, his sword drawn, the tip hovering inches from my throat.
"So," he spits, his voice dripping with pure disgust. "This is the filth my cousin is crying for?"
I can't see his face, but I hear the judgment.
I feel the weight of my own uselessness.
I slowly lift my shaking hand, pressing the broken shards and the stain of the evaporated potion against my chest. It's the only thing I have left. The proof of my failure.
"I'm... just the help," I wheeze, a thick mixture of blood and soot staining my teeth.
"And the help... is sorry... he couldn't do... more."
My hand drops into the mud. The darkness isn't just in the sky anymore; it's everywhere.
"I'm sorry, Alisa..." I whisper into the dirt. "I really... tried."