The man in silk, still confused about who Kael was, leaned his face against the bars. The smell of flowers came off him, unsuitable for the rot of the cell. He stared at Kael's dirty face and wide, dark eyes.
"You," he hissed, pointing at the pendant. "Where did a gutter-rat like you get the Dragon of the North?"
Kael didn't answer. His throat was frozen. He just looked at the man, his eyes catching the lantern light—a small, scared secret that had just become more dangerous than any of them knew.
The silk man's face darkened. He was about to speak again when a voice called out from another cell further down the hallway.
"Wait!"
The silk man's head snapped up. One of his men hurried deeper into the shadows, raising the lantern. There was the sound of a cell door being unlocked, chains rattling, and then a girl was dragged out into the flickering light. She was older than Kael—maybe fourteen or fifteen—with silver hair matted with dirt and frightened eyes.
Her eyes widened when she saw Kael.
Time seemed to stop for a moment. The girl stared at him—at his silver hair, at his small frame, at something in his face that matched something in hers. Her breath caught audibly.
Kael stared back, his eyes widening in equal shock.
The pendant in the silk man's hand flared to life. It blazed with brilliant white light, so bright it cast sharp shadows across the corridor. The glow pulsed twice, then settled into a steady luminescence that filled the space between them.
The silk man's breath hitched. He looked from the glowing pendant to the girl, then to Kael. His pale eyes narrowed with understanding.
"Impossible," he whispered. Then, louder, with certainty: "You."
The girl's shock shifted into something else—desperation. She struggled against the men holding her arms, her silver hair catching the light.
"Let him go," she said, her voice urgent now, no longer afraid for herself but for him. "Please. He's just caught up in this. He doesn't know anything. He doesn't deserve—"
"Silence," the silk man said coldly, his eyes never leaving the glowing pendant. He nodded slowly, as if understanding something the girl had just confirmed with her reaction. "Yes. This is real."
He turned to the men still holding her. "Take her to the east wing. The dealer arrives by morning. She'll be prepared for inspection."
"Yes, m'lord," they said in unison.
As they dragged her away, the girl looked back at Kael one last time. Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor, the sound of chains dragging against stone echoing long after she disappeared.
The silk man turned back to Kael, and his soft face had gone hard. He gestured to the two men still standing nearby—the thick-set one with yellow teeth and the jagged man from the alley.
"What about the rest of the collection?" one of them asked nervously.
The silk man checked his gold pocket watch. "They'll know their fate by morning. For now…" He looked back at Kael, his pale eyes cold as stone. "Get the truth out of him. I want to know exactly where that pendant came from and who sent him after it. Use whatever methods necessary."
"Yes, m'lord," the thick-set man said, a cruel grin spreading across his face.
The silk man turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing until they faded into silence.
Kael watched them go, his small body trembling. He had a moment—just one moment—to think about the girl. He had a moment to think about being alone again, about what "use whatever methods necessary" meant.
Then the cell door groaned open.
The thick-set man with the yellow teeth stepped inside, his shadow falling across Kael like a noose. The jagged man came in behind him, blocking the exit. They were no longer trying to be careful. There was no performance now, no pretense of civility.
"Now, little bird," the thick-set man said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see how loud you can scream."
He reached down to grab Kael's hair.
Kael tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. His back was already against the stone wall. The man's thick fingers closed around his silver hair and yanked his head forward. Pain shot through his scalp.
"Ready to talk?" the man asked, his yellow teeth showing in a grin.
Kael didn't answer. He just stared at him, his small body trembling but his mouth stayed shut.
The man's grin widened. Then he lightly drove his fist into Kael's ribs.
The air left Kael in a gasp. Pain bloomed across his side, sharp and consuming. He cried out—a small, broken sound that echoed off the stone.
"That's better," the man laughed. "Again?"
The jagged man stepped in from the side and grabbed Kael's arm, pinning it against the wall.
"Ready to talk?" the thick-set man asked again, his face close enough that Kael could smell his breath, rotten and sour.
". . ."
The man hit him again. This time in the stomach, a controlled blow but harder than the last. Kael's body folded forward as much as the grip on his hair would allow. He cried out again, louder this time, tears streaming down his face.
"Where. Did. You. Get. The. Pendant?" the man asked between blows, each word punctuated by fists landing on Kael's small frame. Not breaking bones—he knew how to hurt someone without permanently damaging them.
Kael gasped for breath between cries. His ribs screamed. His side burned. But he still didn't talk.
Each time they asked, he only weakly stared. Each time he stared, they hit harder. Laughing and enjoying it.
The thick-set man was breathing hard now, his patience wearing thin. Kael's refusal to break was driving him mad. He grabbed a handful of silver hair again and jerked Kael's head up.
"Last chance, boy. Talk."
Kael's vision was swimming. Pain radiated from a dozen places on his small body. But when the thick-set man leaned in close, his hands reached for Kael's face, and those yellow teeth of his came into view, Kael did the only thing he had left. He bit.
His teeth closed around the man's hand, the fleshy part near the thumb. He bit hard, tasting blood, feeling the man's flesh between his teeth.
The thick-set man screamed.
"You little shit!" he roared, yanking his hand back. Blood dripped from his palm where Kael's teeth had broken skin.
Fury replaced the controlled violence. This was no longer a method. This was rage.
The man drew his fist back and drove his fist straight into Kael's gut with all the force he had.
The punch was different from the others. It was brutal. It was the punch of a man who'd lost his patience, who didn't care anymore about the silk man's instructions to keep the boy alive and functional.
Kael's body convulsed. The air in his lungs was violently expelled. His small frame couldn't handle it. His eyes went wide, the pupils dilating, rolling back until only the whites showed.
The jagged man let go of his arm and he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
The thick-set man stood over him, breathing hard, sucking on his bleeding hand and cursing.
"Little shit," he muttered. "Stupid little shit."
Kael fell through darkness, through cold air that seemed to have no bottom, no walls, no way to stop. Down and down and down until the darkness itself began to change, becoming less like emptiness and more like presence. Less like nothing and more like something vast and patient was waiting.
Then he hit the ground that wasn't a ground.
Kael's eyes opened slowly. He was lying on something cold and smooth, and the impact of his body against it sent a shock through him. The purple mist that covered everything began to swirl around him, clearing in a perfect circle, revealing pale stone beneath his body.
For a moment, he just lay there, gasping. His ribs and his gut should have been on fire, but there was nothing. Just cold stone and the memory of pain that no longer existed.
Slowly, he pushed himself up on his elbows. His hands were shaking. His clothes were still torn and dirty, still stained with blood, but his body felt… fine. It was like the pain had been erased, leaving only the evidence behind.
He got to his feet unsteadily, brushing dust from his worn clothes. The purple mist hung everywhere around him except for the small circle where he stood.
Beyond that invisible boundary, the haze was so thick he couldn't see anything—just endless purple fog swirling with shapes that almost made sense but never quite did.
"Where…" he started, his voice hoarse.
"Finally awake."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Sharp and laced with irritation. Kael spun around.
She was sitting on a piece of broken stone that rose from the fog like it had always been there. Silver hair that caught light that didn't exist. Violet eyes that looked at him with pure disdain.
"What—" Kael started.
"Don't," she said flatly. "You're going to ask stupid questions, and I don't have the energy for stupid."
Kael's mouth closed and he stared at her instead.
The girl leaned back, her expression one of absolute boredom mixed with contempt.
"Do you know how pathetic you look? Covered in blood and dust, shaking like a leaf, and you're still standing there with that confused expression on your face."
"Who are you?" Kael managed to ask.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him.
"Your mother kept me sealed away for ten years. Ten years of silence and darkness and listening to you cry about nothing. Ten years of being trapped in your weak, pathetic body. How unfortunate."