The Vain family's flagship, The Argent Merchant, cut through the waves of the Capital's harbor at full speed. Behind them, pillars of black smoke rose from the ruins of the Cathedral, and the roar of the people's fury sounded like the distant hum of swarming bees.
Inside the spacious captain's cabin, Rainnes Juoi slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she heard was no longer the whispers of monsters, but the steady, rhythmic ticking of a mechanical clock. She lay upon a bed of blue silk, and beside her, Anne Marie Vain sat reviewing a stack of documents.
"You're awake," Anne said, without looking up from her papers. "Do not try to sing. Your vocal cords are still recovering from the moment you shattered that mercury crystal."
Rainnes tried to sit up, her body feeling remarkably light, as if a crushing weight had been lifted from her soul. "Where... where is Prince William?"
"He lives," a heavy voice answered from a dark corner of the room.
Harold de Croul stepped forward. He had changed into a simple black cloak, though bandages still wrapped his shoulder and ears. "I brought him onto this ship as a prisoner. He is our bargaining chip with the remaining loyalist forces in the Capital."
Rainnes looked at Harold, then turned to Anne. "Why did you save me? I almost destroyed this city."
"You didn't destroy this city, Rainnes," Anne stood and walked toward the window, gazing out at the open sea. "You destroyed an illusion. William wanted to make you a martyr, but I would much rather have you as an ally."
Anne turned, her eyes flashing behind her spectacles. "The grain we carry isn't just to feed the people; it's to build a new loyalty. And you, Rainnes—you are no longer the Church's Saintess. You are the Voice of the Rebellion. Your ability to see frequencies will be invaluable in detecting the remnants of the Whispering Hollows still hiding in the shadows of the government."
Meanwhile, on the lower deck, inside a prison cell reinforced with anti-resonance steel, William de Croul sat leaning against the iron wall. His hands were chained, yet he maintained a faint smirk as he stared into the darkness.
The cell door creaked open. Julian entered, carrying a tray with hard bread and plain water—the same rations given to soldiers in the North.
"Eat, Prince," Julian said coldly.
William looked at the bread, then up at Julian. "Tell my brother, Harold... he may have won this battle with the help of that cunning woman. But he has forgotten one thing."
William leaned his face closer to the bars, his eyes glinting with a darkness deeper than before. "The de Croul blood cannot be erased. The demons of the Lesser Key do not vanish just because a building falls. They simply move to a darker place."
Julian did not answer. He locked the cell door and left, leaving William alone with his poisonous thoughts.
On the deck above, Harold and Anne stood side-by-side, watching the horizon toward the North.
"So, what is our plan now, Wife?" Harold asked, using the title with a thick layer of sarcasm.
Anne snapped her pocket watch shut with a satisfying click. "We return to Isfellan. We distribute the grain, we reinforce the steel, and we prepare Rainnes for the real song. We will not attack with prayers, Harold. We will attack with reality."
The black ship sailed on, carrying the three most hated individuals in the Empire toward an uncertain future—one finally free from the shackles of a false voice.