The great hall was a tableau of chaos frozen. Silas's body lay in a spreading pool of crimson, his daughter's small form still trembling at the edge of the crowd. Warriors moved to obey Thorne's commands, but hesitation rippled through their ranks uncertainty, suspicion, the lingering poison of the mark's influence.
Elara stood at the center, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bond with Kael pulsed weakly, but he was still alive. Still fighting. She could feel him reaching for her through the silver's suppression, a desperate thread of shadow seeking her light.
Then the doors burst open.
Kael stumbled through, flanked by two of Thorne's guards. The silver chains were gone, but their absence had left wounds angry, red marks circling his wrists and ankles. He was pale, shaking, his
