The second River slammed the hatch, everything fell apart.

Patrol swarmed us, outnumbering us instantly. 

My breathing became more rapid. I barely noticed.

I reached from my sword with my bad hand—the one with the brace that never healed right—the rest of the group already attempting to fight the patrol off.

A low, metallic hum crawled under my skin — invisible, electric. When Eliot’s vines passed through the patrol like smoke, my stomach did that cold flip. Something in the air was eating our magic.

Max tried to protect Tessa, who seemed ready to jump in and help.

Sky tried to blow them away with wind, but it did nothing.

I put fire to my sword and swung, it went right through the patrols just like everyone else’s abilities had.

“Raise weapons.” I heard River say—all the patrols instantly leveled their guns with our heads.

“River.” Skylar whispered. “What are you doing?”

I could see the hurt in her eyes, and goddammit no one was allowed to make her hurt.

“Saving the city from you unstable, god-wannabes.” River said smoothly, exactly how Thornblade would’ve said it. 

My heart dropped into my stomach, my hands shook with my idle sword in my hands.

“Take them to the dungeon.” He commanded the soldiers, and instantly they were all on us—suddenly solid.

I felt a gloved hand clamp on my shoulder. I swung my elbow into their helmet, it did nothing but give me pain. 

I thrashed, kicking at nothing as another clamped their hand over my mouth.

I bit down. Hard.

A copper taste flooded my mouth. The soldier staggered back, clutching their wounded hand. For a blink, they were human.

I grinned, blood staining my teeth and tried to get out of the other one’s grip before they could cuff me.

That’s when I smelled iron.

A sharp, white-hot pain flashed through my body. I convulsed and fell—having no strength to keep my weight up instantly. My knees hit the ground, my hands gripping the dirt as tears stung my eyes.

A boot slammed into my back, shoving me down into the soil. Blood filled my mouth but this time I think it was mine.

I grunted, trying to get out from under the patroller—but then I felt a metal mask being guided over my face. A hand grabbed the back on my head, knotting my hair while doing so as another clamped the mask over my mouth.

A muzzle.

They had the audacity to fucking muzzle me.

I thrashed harder once it was secure.

At some point I guess they had clipped cuffs on me. 

I tried to scream, yell at anyone, curse River, try to help my friends but it was no use with the cage over my mouth.

All I could do was glare at River as I was hauled over a solider’s shoulder like I weighed nothing, their hand too tight across my back in a way that made me want to cry just to get them to stop. My hands shook against the cuffs, trying and failing to break free.

I called Fire to come and singe these bastards. No response. No flicker. Just cold.

I hated the cold.

As we passed River, he walked over to me with the grace of a cat that finally found a mouse, the smirk more deceiving than ever.

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to rip that smug look off his face. I wanted to kick him in the nuts and make sure he could never sit and not feel pain. 

I couldn’t do anything but glare at him, saying everything words can’t as he slipped his own gloved hand on the back of my neck. 

“You’re going to remember this. Do as they instruct and it will be over much quicker.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine as he slipped a needle from who knows where and pricked the back of my neck.

A small, helpless sound came out of me as the drowsiness flooded my senses. The last thing I saw was River smirking at me as he then pricked Max’s neck—who was being held by another soldier.

Rage flooded through me, I kicked, swore, screamed until my throat was raw and the drugs dragged me under.

I didn’t know what just happened, but I was not letting it slide.

~

My back scraped metal. Cold. Unforgiving. Familiar.

I blinked hard. Fluorescent light burned through my eyes.

I looked around once I adjusted to the dim room. I was tied up to a metal chair in the middle of a dim cell. A single slit of light from the steel door spilled across the floor.

I remembered this room.

The hum of the vents. The smell of iron and bleach. Thornblade’s voice echoing from the other side of the door—“again.”

I looked down at my restraints, metal clamps hugging my feet and wrists. My brace on my right hand gone—showing off the bone that never healed right, jutting out just enough to twist my stomach.

I remembered this room.

Thornblade designed it to hold back all my abilities so when he hurt me, it felt like hurting any other kid—not one built to survive it.

The muzzle was still clamped tight, digging into my jaw with every movement I made.

I struggled against the restraints, trying to break free so I could get out.

I couldn’t relive this again. I couldn’t—

Not here. Not this room.

That’s when the door opened.

I let out a choked sound that might’ve been a scream, but the muzzle muffled it so much it didn’t sound much like anything.

A tall, lean figure appeared in the doorway—one I recognized instantly.

Alastor Davian. Thornblade’s general’s second-in-command.

He stepped fully into view, the mechanical door shutting itself behind him.

Great. I thought. It’s not just a metal door, there’s probably hundreds of wires and maybe even tinkering with it would set off an alarm.

Alastor himself was wearing a black cloak that almost reached the tops of his combat boots, a black button up with Thornblade’s signature rose emblem pinned to the fabric.

I shivered at the sight of the pin, he noticed and relished it—grinning like the devil.

His dark eyes traced me up and down as his heels clicked against the echoey concrete room.

“What do you want?” I snarled at him, lunging against the restraints—though I couldn’t tell if actual words came out through the muzzle. Either way he seemed to get the message.

“Just checking up on my favorite Holder.” He said smoothly, walking around to the back of my chair so I couldn’t see him—only hear him.

I scoffed. He was trying to be smooth, to lure me in.

I didn’t have time for a cat’s tricks.

“You can go—“ The words died in my throat as he came back into view, flicking on a screen on the wall near the door, right in front of me.

I could see them, all of them. Struggling against their restraints. Skylar had gotten her chair to fall over, but she couldn’t get out of the cuffs. Eliot looked like they were meditating, or summoning the dead—the two looked too similar. Tessa was crying and screaming but there was no sound.

Just the sight of them alone gutted me.

I didn’t see Declan which was a good sign, maybe he got away when River closed the hatch.

But where was Max?

Tears stung my eyes, my chest tightened.

They wouldn’t do anything to Max, right? Max was just the healer, he couldn’t fight nearly as well as some of us and he’d never hurt a fly.

“What did you do with him?” I lunged again, biting against the muzzle; making Alastor take a cool step back.

“Aw Kane, that all depends on how you behave.” Alastor smirked, feigning empathy. 

I wanted to slit his throat right then and there.

“What do you want?” I asked again. This time I knew he could hear me clearly.

“Give me answers.” Alastor said flatly, the sweet act gone and replaced by cold calculation.

My heart sank. Of course he wanted answers, but I would never give them to him.

But if he was going to hurt Max…I couldn’t be the one to let that happen if I had a chance to stop it.

“I see you’re torn between loyalty and…friendship.” Alastor noted like some corrupt therapist. “But what’s one life against everyone else’s?”

“Your life is nowhere close to the value of Max’s.” I growled. “Let him go, let them all go—free and safe, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Alastor tisked like I was a puppy misbehaving. “Can’t do that, Kane.” 

“Then what are you gonna do?” I asked wearily, the mask fogged up with my breath.

Alastor grinned like he’d been waiting for me to ask, he clicked a button on the small remote and the screen flicked to another camera.

My heart leapt into my throat, my chest tightening further. 

Max unconscious in a chair identical to mine—except he was in a different room. 

The Ice Room.

“No. No, no, no.” I muttered, eyes stinging as I searched for an out, some leverage.

“Every act of resistance drops the temperature by another ten degrees, he’s already in below freezing.” Alastor explained. “We both know warm Holders like you and him aren’t built to withstand the cold.”

I flinched, then the flashback flooded in all at once like fire to dry grass.

I was thirteen. Cassian was dead. Thornblade was mad at me for letting my entire team die.

I remembered the whip, ten, twenty, thirty slashes, the leather soaked in my blood.

Meaty guards stripping me, throwing me in the Ice Room—a sealed room with controlled temperature, made specifically for me and other warm Holders.

That’s when I realized Thornblade had relics.

Relics that could strip Holders of their powers when in range.

Every act of resistance left me in there from longer, the guards dropping the temperature cooler. Leaving me shivering with no warmth, no Fire, and no way to cover up.

I hated feeling exposed and vulnerable. Dysphoria was at it’s worst by that point. And they didn’t let me keep my binding bandages. Thornblade knew what I used them for and he didn’t want me to have any comfort.

I laid against the stone wall curled in on myself, trying not to breath too hard, trying not to cry. The tears would only make me colder once they froze.

“You can save him, Ronan.” Alastor murmured, crouching down so we were at eye level. “Just give me what I want, and your Sun Holder won’t freeze.”

I searched his face. Trying to find something—anything to use against him.

All I could see was his dark brown eyes that looked too good to be true.

Goddammit, why are the villains the hot ones?

He dropped my gaze after a long moment, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a piece of crumpled paper.

“Where’s your safe house? The one you and your group were traveling to?”

I choked on my breath. Of course the first question was one I couldn’t answer. “I-I don’t know.”

I was stuck. I couldn’t give up information. And I couldn’t watch Max freeze.

I remembered Thornblade: ‘The longer my relic keeps your fire down, the worse the burn when it comes back.’ Fever burned for a week after. I couldn’t let Max suffer that.

I ignored the voice in my head that told me Max would never want me to sacrifice the group for him. I ignored the thought of Declan blowing up on me because I gave away secrets.

“Where are you getting your arsenal inventory from?” Alastor asked me, eyes studying mine.

I sucked in another breath. My mind was at war with itself.

“I…I can’t tell you.” I hated how small my voice sounded, especially behind the muzzle.

“We’ll take off the mask if you start giving me real answers.” Alastor said gently, then reached out with his pale hand and tucked a curl behind my ear, his hands warm and gentle against my face.

I tried to ignore how good it felt.

I had to think about Max.

About the group.

The mechanical door opened again, the metal screeching against the concrete, stinging my ears. Alastor snatched his hand away like I had burned him.

A figure walked in—a soldier. They held a metal rod with prongs on the end. My breath hitched with the realization of what it was as the soldier flicked the rod to life, sparks of electricity illuminated the edges of the metal.

I looked at Alastor, thinking this was just some scare tactic to get me to talk. But Alastor avoided my gaze, standing up and stepping out of the way, his cool, calculated demeanor offered back into place.

I tried to pull away from the rod that was coming at a steady slow pace towards me, but it was useless.

The electricity struck me, I felt it shiver all the way down my spine, like a snake of pain finding its next meal.

The world cracked white, and then nothing.