Kael woke to hands.

  Not gentle. Not hurried. Efficient.

  Rough fingers hooked under his arms and hauled him upright before his mind fully caught up with his body. The stone vanished beneath his feet. Cold air rushed in where warmth had been a moment ago, sharp enough to bite through thin cloth.

  A sack dropped over his head.

  Darkness closed in instantly — coarse fabric scraping his cheeks, the smell of old grain and sweat thick in his nose. The world narrowed to sound and touch: boots on stone, chains clinking, a muffled sob somewhere to his left.

  “Move.”

  A shove between his shoulders sent him stumbling forward. Someone caught his arm before he fell, grip bruising, impersonal.

  Kael let his weight go where they pushed it.

  The floor changed.

  Stone to packed earth. The texture under his bare feet roughened, pebbles biting into skin already raw. He felt wind then — not the stale breath of underground corridors, but open air. Cool. Moving. Alive.

  Outside.

  The realization hit him so hard it almost broke his stride.

  They were marched faster now. The sack shifted with each step, brushing against his lips, damp with someone else’s breath. He tasted dust. Heard the creak of wood nearby — carts, plural — and the low snort of animals.

  Beasts. Big ones.

  Moonlight brushed him through the cloth, pale and unreal, a faint pressure against his closed eyes. Not enough to see by. Enough to know where he was.

  The gate groaned open behind them.

  Not the inner gate. The outer.

  The sound was enormous — iron teeth disengaging, stone grinding against stone — a noise meant to be heard, meant to mark a boundary. The city exhaled behind it.

  Then the gate closed again.

  The sound cut off cleanly.

  Kael felt it in his chest.

  They were beyond the city now.

  Hands pushed him forward one last time, then stopped him short. Chains rattled as people were brought to a halt, bodies bumping into one another in the dark.

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  The sack was yanked from his head.

  Light slammed into his eyes.

  Not bright — dawn hadn’t broken yet — but enough to sting. He blinked hard, vision swimming, and took in the space around him in quick, sharp fragments.

  A flat clearing just beyond the outer wall. Packed dirt churned by hooves and wheels. The city rose behind them, stone dark and silent, watchtowers looming but unlit. Ahead, the land sloped gently downward into trees — a wide belt of forest, black and dense, mist clinging low to the ground.

  Between them and the woods stood carts.

  Heavy travel carts, reinforced, canvas-covered. Teams of beasts stamped and snorted, breath fogging the air. Guards moved among them, checking straps, adjusting loads, speaking in clipped tones.

  They were being organized.

  Chains were unlocked.

  Not all at once — one group at a time. Shackles hit the dirt with dull thuds. Kids rubbed their wrists, stared at their hands like they didn’t trust them to still be there.

  No one ran.

  Not yet.

  Kael scanned without lifting his head.

  There — three guards close, unawakened. Their presence felt thin now, like empty space. Another pair farther off, watching the perimeter. And one man apart from the rest, standing near a cart at the edge of the clearing.

  Awakened.

  Kael felt it immediately.

  Not pressure. Not threat.

  Density.

  The air around the man felt heavier, settled differently, like it resisted being moved. He stood relaxed, arms folded, posture loose in the way of someone who didn’t expect trouble.

  That’s why they’re unchaining us, Kael thought.

  That’s why they’re comfortable.

  Because if something goes wrong, he handles it.

  Kael’s pulse steadied.

  Riven stood two places to his right.

  His hair was still damp from washing, curling slightly at the ends. His shoulders were tense, jaw locked so tight Kael could see the muscles twitch. He hadn’t looked around yet. Hadn’t let his eyes run.

  Good.

  A guard barked an order. Kids were herded into rough lines, counted, then counted again. Someone stumbled and was yanked upright without ceremony.

  Kael felt something shift among them.

  Not panic.

  Focus.

  They’re outside, a voice whispered in his mind — not hope, not fear. Fact. We’re outside.

  The woods loomed close enough now that he could smell them. Damp bark. Leaf rot. Cold earth.

  Freedom was not a concept here.

  It was a direction.

  The awakened man glanced toward the city gate, then back to the carts. Waiting.

  For Aurelian.

  For Veylan.

  For the moment everything was finalized.

  Kael leaned just enough to catch Riven’s eye.

  Riven looked back.

  For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

  Then Kael dipped his chin once — subtle, almost lazy — eyes flicking toward the awakened guard.

  Now.

  Riven’s pupils dilated.

  The world seemed to draw inward around him.

  Kael felt it — not the effect, but the absence. The way air thinned near Riven, like something was being pulled out through a narrow point.

  Riven turned his head slowly.

  The awakened guard noticed.

  His eyes sharpened. His posture shifted, weight redistributing — too late.

  Riven focused.

  It wasn’t anger.

  It wasn’t hate.

  It was intent.

  A single point set behind the man’s eyes, tight and precise. Riven felt the cursed energy surge through him, cold and electric, ripping free like breath forced from the lungs. It didn’t scatter. It didn’t lash.

  It excited.

  The space around the man’s skull tightened.

  For half a second, nothing happened.

  Then—

  The rupture.

  The sound was wet and violent, like something overripe bursting under pressure. Bone and blood and fragments of thought sprayed outward in a brutal halo. The body remained standing for a fraction of a heartbeat, headless, before collapsing into the dirt.

  Silence slammed down.

  No one screamed yet.

  The world held still.

  And Kael ran.