The questions swirl in my mind, but they don’t make me move. They don’t make me stop this. Because beneath the disgust and horror, there’s a cold truth I can’t ignore. I need to know what happened to Sacha more than I need to maintain whatever moral high ground I thought I had.
“The purging chamber,” the captain gasps when he can speak again. “They’re restoring the purging chamber.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Lisandra turns pale as death, swaying on her feet. Mira makes a sound, a strangled gasp, and covers her mouth with shaking hands. Varam’s grip on the metal rod tightens until his knuckles turn white, and for a moment, I think he might strike again.
“What does that mean?” I look between them, my stomach twisting at their expressions.
It’s Mira who answers me. “It’s the Authority’s way of destroying magic in those they capture.”
“It kills them,” Lisandra adds, her voice tight. “Slowly and painfully. It rips the power from their bodies while they’re alive. The process can take days.”
A wave of nausea hits, turning my skin clammy. The mist stalker grows agitated beside me, growling and pacing back and forth.
Not imprisonment. Not interrogation.Destruction.
“How long?” I try to ask, but the words stick in my throat.
“When?” Varam presses harder with the blade. “When will they reach Blackvault?”
“Two days!” Desperation makes the captain’s voice high and thin. “They left Ashenvale yesterday. If they make good speed, they will arrive in two more days. Maybe less if they push the pace.”
Two days.
I press my hand against the wall to steady myself, leaving a faint handprint on the stone. Two days before they begin destroying everything that makes Sacha who he is.
“And what do your orders say?” Lisandra asks.
“Preliminary preparations. Warden Krevlin needed advance notice. There are … rituals that must be performed. The purging chamber requires purification before each purge.” His words come faster, tripping over each other. “The purging itself is scheduled for the day after they arrive.”
“The route?” Varam demands. “Which path are they taking him?”
“Along Windspan Heights. Through all the settlements. The High Commander wants to make sure everyone sees what the heretic has been reduced to.”
The image this conjures—Sacha, powerless and chained, paraded like a trophy through towns—makes bile rise in my throat.
“How many guards?” Lisandra asks.
“Twenty of Sereven’s personal guard. Elite soldiers trained to handle magical threats.”
“And Sereven himself?”
The captain shakes his head. “No, he won’t travel with them. He will take a faster route, and be there before the prison escort arrives.”
Fear settles in my stomach. We have less than two days to stop them before Sacha is lost to us for good. Not killed, butunmade. Destroyed piece by piece until nothing remains but an empty shell.
Varam lowers the knife. “Mira, make sure he doesn’t die from his wounds. We may need more from him later.”
He jerks his head, silently telling me and Lisandra to follow him outside. As we file out, the captain calls after us, his voice gaining strength despite his injuries.
“You’ll never reach him in time.” There’s grim certainty in his voice. “And if you follow them to Blackvault, you won’t be able to breach it. Twenty of Sereven’s Elite and the fortress’s defenses? You’re all going to die, and the heretic will be destroyed either way.”
I pause at the doorway, power pooling at my fingertips. When I turn back to him, he shrinks away from my expression.
“Watch me.” The words taste like a promise and a threat combined.
The moment the heavy door closes behind us, Varam turns to me, his face a strange mixture of shock and urgency.
“He’s alive," I say before he can speak. “Sacha is alive. And they’re going to kill him.”