The hollow's darkness smelled of old wood and salt. Nairé held the vial to her chest like a borrowed heart. Outside, the Saltery fell silent for a beat—rope-tight silence—then the sound that shattered everything arrived:
A muffled scream.
Mareh's voice.
Nairé felt the blood drain from her face.
It wasn't long. It wasn't dramatic. It was short—cut off fast, as if a hand had covered Mareh's mouth in time. That made it worse. Because it meant Mareh was truly there… and Karth wasn't bluffing.
The Oathmaster's voice drifted through the panel, calm, almost kind:
—If you run… she pays.
Nairé wanted to fling the panel open, leap out, bite if she had to. Her whole body screamed go. But she remembered the tube. The seal. What it collected. What it had already taken from her without permission.
Don't lie. Don't break. Don't feed it.
The archive-salt vial was ice-cold, biting into her palms. The cold forced her to breathe.
Olan spoke low on the other side. He couldn't see her, yet he knew exactly where she was.
—Don't move yet, he whispered. —If you step out with your heart leading, they'll guide you like an animal.
Nairé clenched her teeth.
—It's Mareh, she whispered, hating how her voice shook. —It's her.
—I know.
—Then—
—Then think, Olan cut in, firm. —He used her name. That means she's close. And he wants you to come out.
Nairé shut her eyes. Mareh flashed in her mind as she was: blade-smile, quick hands, "tests are traps." Mareh never screamed for nothing. If she screamed… it was because she couldn't stop it.
The tube pulsed, eager for chaos.
Choose.
Choose what—Mareh or the Crown? Escape or surrender? Truth or a lie?
Outside, Drezan said something, and his voice sounded tight, like metal about to snap:
—Where is she? What did you do, Vellûn?
Karth answered with drawing-room calm:
—I did nothing that isn't useful, Captain. I merely brought a reason… for her to stop hiding.
A muffled sound—a choked attempt at speech. Mareh, fighting a hand over her mouth.
Nairé opened her eyes. Fear sharpened into something cleaner: anger.
She nudged the panel, carefully. Not enough to expose herself—just a seam to see through.
The Saltery glowed with low candlelight. Olan stood near the oath lectern. Drezan held the doorway, shoulders tense, blocking the corridor view. Karth waited a few steps in, his ink-ribbon hovering like a living thought.
And at the corridor threshold… Mareh.
Two guards held her. One covered her mouth. Mareh kicked, not like someone losing control—like someone searching for an angle. Her green, burning eyes found Nairé's through the seam.
For one heartbeat, Mareh stopped moving.
Not surrender.
Recognition.
And in that fraction, something broke inside Nairé's chest.
Karth spoke softly.
—Come out, Naerith. Let's not make this uglier than it needs to be.
Naerith. The name struck a nerve. Nairé hated how her body wanted to obey, how the air seemed to order itself without her permission.
Olan lifted the salt vial he'd set on the lectern—silent reminder: truth.
Nairé swallowed.
She stepped out.
Not running. Not attacking.
She walked out straight-backed, vial in one hand and the tube in the other, as if each step were a decision.
The guards startled. Mareh tried to scream again; the hand clamped harder.
Drezan turned, surprised and… relieved, though he'd never admit it.
—You, he said, and didn't know what to do with the word.
Nairé didn't look at Drezan. She looked at Mareh.
—Don't hurt her, she said.
A useless order, but she had to say it.
Karth's smile was thin.
—That depends on you.
Nairé tightened her grip on the vial. The cold hurt.
—I'll go with you, she said. —But she leaves.
Karth tilted his head, entertained.
—You don't set conditions.
—I do, Nairé said, voice steadier than she expected. —Here. In the Saltery. With witnesses.
Olan stepped toward the lectern.
—She has the right to propose an oath, he said. —You signed to speak truth within these walls, Oathmaster. The ink listens.
Karth's gaze stayed patient—dangerously so.
—Ink listens, yes. But ink also interprets.
—Then interpret this, Nairé said, lifting the vial like a seal. —Swear Mareh leaves alive and free, now. No pursuit. No punishment. No "accidents."
The Saltery went still, holding its breath.
Drezan stared at Karth.
—You can't—
Karth raised a hand to silence him.
—I can, he said. —But not out of charity.
He approached the lectern, took the oath quill like a man taking a wineglass, and looked at Nairé.
—You will come with me, he said. —No resistance. No escape attempts. No games.
Nairé's throat tightened, but she nodded.
—Yes, she said, and made sure it was true. Right now, it was.
Olan's jaw flexed, but he didn't stop her. In oaths, every word was a knife.
Karth dipped the quill.
—Speak your oath, Naerith, he said softly. —Precisely.
Nairé breathed.
—I, Naerith… will surrender to Karth Vellûn and accompany him to the Chamber of Seals without resistance, in exchange for Mareh Ux being released here and now and leaving the palace unharmed and without pursuit.
The air vibrated. Olan closed his eyes as if it hurt.
Karth's smile returned, faint.
—Beautiful, he murmured. —So human.
Then he wrote.
The quill scratched stone. The ink glimmered. The oath drove into the Saltery like a stake.
Nairé felt the immediate tug in her chest—an invisible tether pulling her toward Karth. Not pain. Direction.
Mareh went still, staring wide-eyed.
At Karth's gesture, the guards removed the hand from her mouth. Mareh inhaled and the first thing she did was curse him under her breath:
—You son of—
Drezan shifted, instinctively, half-covering Mareh as if his body had decided before his mind.
—Out, Karth ordered the guards. —Take her to the servants' arch. No one touches her after she crosses the threshold.
They obeyed. One grabbed Mareh's arm. Mareh fought just enough to look at Nairé.
—Nairé, no! she shouted. —Don't—
Karth lifted a hand. He didn't touch Mareh. He didn't need to.
The ink-ribbon moved like shadow and coiled in the air near Mareh's throat—no pressure, no mark. Just a reminder of who held the line.
Mareh froze.
—Watch your words, Karth said, almost kindly. —You wouldn't want to pay for them.
Nairé swayed, dizzy.
—Let her go, now! she demanded.
Karth met her gaze with steady calm.
—I am letting her go, he said. —Alive. Unharmed. Unpursued. As you asked.
Olan stepped forward, voice low and lethal.
—Don't play with the letter, he warned. —The Saltery heard you.
Karth inclined his head.
—Oh, Archivist… I always respect oaths.
The guards pulled Mareh toward the corridor. Mareh resisted just long enough to throw Nairé one last look.
And then something happened that Nairé didn't expect:
Mareh stopped dead, as if she'd forgotten how to walk.
The sharpness drained from her eyes.
Her face went blank for a breath.
—What…? Mareh whispered, confused. —Why am I… here?
The world collapsed inside Nairé.
—Mareh! she called, stepping forward.
Mareh looked at her.
And there was no recognition.
Only polite confusion.
—Ma'am… Mareh said, and the word was a knife. —Do I know you?
Nairé couldn't breathe.
Olan turned on Karth with silent hatred.
—No, Olan breathed. —No…
Karth smiled, satisfied.
—I freed her, he said. —Alive. Unharmed. Unpursued. And without the burden… of remembering why she should fear me.
Nairé shook.
—You stole her memory.
Karth raised an eyebrow.
—I didn't hurt her, he replied—and the oath allowed the cruelty of that truth. —I merely collected collateral.
Drezan stepped toward him, furious.
—That's torture!
Karth looked tired.
—It's politics, Captain.
The ink-ribbon tightened in the air, and Nairé felt the invisible tether in her chest pull.
—Come, Naerith, Karth said gently, like an invitation to dance. —Your exchange is complete.
Nairé watched Mareh being escorted away like a stranger down a corridor that suddenly seemed endless. Mareh glanced back once, confused, as if she sensed something missing but couldn't name it.
Nairé wanted to run after her.
But the oath held her.
So she did the only thing she could: she faced the Saltery lectern and spoke, broken and true.
—I won't forget this, she said. —Even if you make me pay to remember.
The air vibrated.
Karth smiled.
—We'll see.
And with monstrous gentleness, he guided her toward the door.
End of Chapter 5.