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“Get back to work!”

The towerguards dragged me to the mine entrance, while the minemaster stationed himself on the platform like an angry helmsman, barking orders at everything that moved.

“Raven!” Sora cried after me.

“Hen! Sora!” I struggled against the guards’ iron grips.

On the platform, Hen sank to the ground when they unchained her. A numb ache filled my stomach. Not long ago, I was the one up there with my back bloodied and shredded. Who would take care of Hen when I was gone?

Get up, Hen.

The guard commander ordered his guards to load me into the lift. I kept glancing over my shoulder at the platform. Sora was struggling as they untied her. Meat was now hovering over Hen.

A chill ran down my spine.Get up. Please get up.

“Get us moving!” the commander barked at the man operating the lift ropes.

As the lift began to rise, Meat bent down and slit Hen’s throat.

Sora’s mouth fell open as Hen’s body went limp. The mine fell silent for a heartbeat.

“No, Hen! No!” I screamed, clawing and kicking at the guards to get free. One of them shoved me against the back of the lift. My head slammed against the wood.

The ropes groaned as the lift gained speed and the mine disappeared from sight. When the hold on my arms finally relaxed, I sank to my knees and retched on the lift floor.

“Please, no,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Please, please, no.”

The commander mumbled a curse under his breath. “Get her up,” he barked at the guards. They hauled me to my feet, but my legs would no longer hold my weight. I was paralyzed by a heavy nausea. Tears blurred my vision.

She’s gone.

The thought didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. She and I were supposed to escape the minetogether. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

It felt like my heart had been replaced by a boulder, threatening to crush me from the inside out. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t force air into my lungs. I barely noticed when a cool breeze washed away the stench of the mine.

“We’re here,” the lift operator grunted when the lift stopped at the top. The commander moved with speed and purpose, leading his entourage through the black windowless hallways of the Obsidian Tower. The guards half carried, half dragged me along with them. We halted in front of a set of imposing double doors covered with a grid of metal spikes, each adorned with a single dry, gaping skull.

The guards pushed open the doors, announcing my arrival. “The girl from the mine you requested, Lord Thrailkull.”

“Bring her in.”

The towerguards deposited me in the middle of the large room, forcing me to my knees. As the heavy doors sealed behind us, it felt like I was being enclosed inside a tomb. Fire flickered inside large metal cages that hung from the ceiling. Even the light was imprisoned in this place.

“So, this is her, Commander?” Thrailkull said, his voice dripping with disdain.

I glanced up at Lord Thrailkull. The Rathalans’ leader sat atop a high throne carved out of shiny black stone that matched the interior walls of the tower. He was every bit the warlord that the rumors said. His eyes were tiny, dark seeds of hate that pulled the rest of his features into a hardened glower. Layers of animal pelts were stacked on the blackened armor covering his broad-set shoulders, making him appear even more monstrous. I had no doubt he was responsible for the skulls on the door.

“Yes, my lord.” The commander dropped to one knee and then shoved me closer to the floor into a forced bow.

When I resisted, the towerguard beside me kicked me in the ribs. I gritted my teeth, though the physical pain was almost a welcome distraction from the crushing ache in my chest.

“Such filth, your kind,” the overlord said, his eyes sliding down the dirt and sweat streaked across my exposed skin. “Looking at you, I’m reminded of why my father, and his father before him, and all my ancestors going back to the Iron Wars, swore to rid the world of magic users after you all but slaughtered us and forced us out of our own land. A task that I took a blood oath to continue when I assumed the throne. An oath thatallmy people will gladly die to uphold. With our weapons of malarite and iron, our armies will spread to the farthest corners of your pathetic Eastlandra to crush each tribal kingdom one by one, smothering all traces of magic with eternal darkness. But—” He paused, his hard stare piercing me. “Buttoday, I’ve heard a rumor of yetanothertribe that I must wipe off the land. Word from the mine says that you’re from some extinct tribe called the—” He glanced at the commander.

“The Zavien tribe, my lord.”

“Yes,” he continued, “from the Zavien tribe. Is that true?”

I was silent.