Page 40

Not a single shadow marred the landscape. Light shattered in prisms across the courtyard of the prison sector. Terror had never looked so beautiful.

Cully pointed toward the building—a hulking structure of white brick, weathered and veined with ivy that clung like old scars. A silent moat wrapped around the estate, its surface still and gray, reflecting the eternal daylight in warped, uneasy glimmers.

A narrow tower jutted from one corner, the clock face cracked and weather-worn, its hands forever frozen. Above, crows circled without cawing, as if even sound feared the place. Iron latticework gripped the windows, and the light within seemed even brighter.

The guards didn’t move. They stood in perfect formation, skin pale, eyes hollow, like the building had stripped them of humanity and left only husks behind the armor.

“You spent three years here?” I asked.

“Two,” he corrected. “Hard to sleep with the constant light. But Valscribe’s only a country away, so we got a few hours of darkness to rest.”

I reached into my vest, pulling out the two berries. “You should go first. Distract the guards. I’ll climb the tower to find a way in.”

“No.” His voice sharpened. “The brick’s laced with poison. One touch and you’re dead.”

My fingers froze. “Then how do I get in?”

Cully eyed the guards. “Two options. First—pretend to be a journalist. But only one rotates through every six hours, and we’ve got about an hour before the next one arrives. I’d have to stay behind. And frankly, you’d make a terrible me.”

“What’s the second?”

“It’s... riskier. Possibly mad.”

“Cully, without you I’d already be poisoned. So let’s hear the mad one.”

“We break in. The moat has a submerged tunnel. Swim beneath. There’s a silcane barrier—it muffles prisoner screams. But it also breeds... things. Beasts and horrors.”

“Let me guess. False doors, illusion magic, and traps?”

He nodded grimly. “Wards meant to keep nightmares in and dreams out. Once you’re in the water, you’ll need to stay focused.”

“So... death by poison or death by fear?”

“I never said breaking into the most secure estate in Verdonia would be easy. Honestly, this plan won’t work, but if you can get in and find Archer, then perhaps you can plead your case to the warden.”

“When I get in, then what?”

“Wait for me,” he said. “Voices will lie. Doors will move. But whatever happens, don’t leave the room.”

“I got it.”

Cully wrapped an arm around my neck. “You are impossibly our mother’s daughter, Sev.”

“Some may say that’s a curse,” I whispered into his sleeve .

Cully went first, eyes down, hurrying toward the guards. I hid behind a tree, chewing the last bit of a tangy berry stuck between my molars. My breath was heavy, heart thudding in my chest as I hurried toward the moat.

A grayish slime skimmed the surface. The muck reeked, sucking at my boots with every step. I dipped one foot in, then the other. The water climbed fast, up my thighs, my waist—like it meant to drag me under.

I hadn’t moved, but it was already at my ribs. The breath I took felt final, and somehow, not enough.

Then my head slipped beneath the surface and the water swallowed me whole.

I swam toward the white brick, careful not to brush the glistening pearl light bleeding from the prison walls.

My heartbeat slowed, dulled, like it had simply decided to stop. I reached forward, scraping blindly through silt and debris.

“Breathe,” a voice whispered, soft and too familiar. “You’re safe.”

But the weight pressing against my lungs said otherwise. I kicked harder, sinking lower with every stroke.

“Breathe. It doesn’t get better.”

My chest tightened at the sound of Klaus’s voice. But it couldn’t be—this was some trick, some mimicry, some monster echoing what I’d buried within my fears.

“You burnt my words, but not all. Death finds you. Lives within you.”

I thrashed forward, arms slicing through the water, panic squeezing tighter and tighter until even my thoughts came out strangled. The cellar had to be close. I needed air. I needed out.

“Saving others will not save yourself.”

I sank deeper into the muck, my limbs losing will. Maybe the berries were poison. Maybe I was going mad.

“It’s time to breathe, Severyn,” he whispered again .

I almost did. I almost gave in. Until another voice split the haze like thunder.

“Swim, Severyn. Do not give up!” Archer yelled.

My limbs screamed, but I kept moving. I clawed through the depths, fingers scraping mud, until they struck iron bars.

“I can’t,” I cried into my mind. “I can’t breathe.”

“Then take mine. Take every last breath if it means you’ll live.”

“I can’t find the handle!”

“Take my hands. My soul. Just, find me.”

I yanked the iron handles and crawled through the tunnel until my hands hit the rungs of a ladder. “I’m fading,” I gasped. “I need air.”

“Almost there,” Archer urged.

The world tore open as I broke the surface. I dragged myself onto a stone floor, collapsing to my hands and knees, lungs heaving. “Archer?” My voice was raw. “Archer?”

I stayed kneeling, breath ragged. Light spilled through a narrow slit high on the wall, casting long shadows across the wet stone. Somewhere, water dripped in a steady rhythm.

The air reeked of rot and mold. Stone walls rose around me, blank and unending, more tomb than cell.

Only one door stood at the far side of the room, and there was no handle on this side.

Cully had told me to wait, which was easier said than done.

But locked in here, waiting was the only option I had.

I pressed my back against the wall and forced my breathing to steady.

The silence shifted.

A woman’s voice cut through the cell. “A lone Blanche child. How strange.”

I spun, heart hammering. “Who’s there?”

“A forgotten heir. A death-touched girl painted in truth.” The voice echoed, threaded with a melody of madness. “I smell what clings to you. I know the lives traded for your own. I painted you long ago.”

I got up from the stone and scanned the room, trying to find the source of the voice. It sounded close. “How do you know who I am?”

“I am one of the last living Seekers,” she said. “I know who you are, Severyn Blanche.”

A Seeker.

“You’re in your own prison. He trapped you. Blanche blood always betrays.”

“No,” I whispered.

“They say torture led you here,” she crooned. “A ghost’s voice. A lover’s scream. And your dear brother? He finally got his winning story.”

“Cully wouldn’t betray me.”

“Oh, sweet girl. Ink for blood. You were bartered. And now… now, they want your flame.”

“You’re not real.” I backed against the wall, holding my damn head like it might fall off. “None of this is real.”

“They’ll break your mind before they kill you. You’ll rule a wasteland, and they’ll call you queen. But you were painted for death.”

The cell door slammed open. Cully stumbled inside, shoved by three armored guards. “Shit, Sev,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I got caught.”

My voice cracked. “I can see that.”

From behind me, the Seeker’s whisper slithered through the cold air. “A story he chases… at the cost of blood.”

“Just do what the guards say,” Cully muttered, not meeting my eyes.

One of them stepped forward, his silver mask catching the dim light. “Sneaking into the prison, are we? Haven’t seen that before.” He elbowed his comrade with a crooked grin. “Boss is gonna love this.”

“I—yes, but—I didn’t—” My words tumbled.

A gloved hand clamped down on my shoulder and shoved me toward another cell. “Enough stammering,” the guard barked. “Tell us why you’re here.”

I steadied myself, forcing the tremble from my voice. “I came to plead for someone. He’s innocent. He doesn’t belong here.”

The guard with brown eyes snorted. “We don’t let prisoners walk just because a pretty girl shows up.” He reached for me again, and I stepped back.

And that was when I saw her. Her silver hair hung in knotted tangles, hazel eyes stretched wide, and a toothless grin split her wrinkled face.

“She’s come to free her shadow-wielder,” the Seeker rasped, her voice brittle as cracked stone.

Her eyes cut toward the brown-eyed guard.

“I’ll offer a bargain… for his release.”

My breath caught. “How do you know that?”

The second guard crossed his arms. “She has no authority. We don’t bargain with prisoners.”

“And yet here I am,” the Seeker said softly. “Thirty-five years, and still you haven’t broken me, Commander. I’ve painted victories. Losses. I painted her.” She lifted her chin toward me. “I’ll trade my gift for a moment.”

The guards exchanged a glance.

“Shut up,” the silver-masked one spat. “One girl shows up and suddenly you’re bartering like it’s market day?”

“She’s bluffing,” said the one she’d called Commander, though his voice lacked conviction. “She won’t show us her gift.”

The woman cackled. “I do love a good market day. But yes, I speak only the truth. And I will paint it, too. ”

The Commander’s eyes narrowed. “If she doesn’t crack soon, the Boss will have questions. Maybe this gets her talking. Or painting.”

“This is insane,” I whispered. “What’s happening?”

The Seeker’s gaze slid back to the Commander. “I could paint your wife, you know. The one you haven’t met yet. Red hair like fire. A mouth sharp enough to cut marble.”

“Bullshit,” the guard snapped.

“Blood wouldn’t do her hair justice,” she murmured. “And stone couldn’t hold the light of her eyes.”

A tick shuddered in the Commander’s jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Do you believe her?” the masked one asked. “You can’t be serious.”

“What’s her name?” the Commander demanded.

The Seeker turned to Cully. “I’ll tell him, and he’ll write it. But the shadow-wielder… and his lover… walk free.”

A silence fell, dense and strange. Then the guard crouched and dropped a feathered quill at Cully’s feet.

“One name,” the Seeker whispered. “One thread of my Sight.”

“Cully, don’t!” I shouted. “It’s a trap!”