The east tower smelled like blood and old stone.
Dawn hadn’t fully broken yet, but the seers’ cells were already lit by harsh torchlight. Three of them sat chained to the wall - two boys who couldn’t be older than 18, and a woman maybe in her 30s with her hands shaking so hard the iron cuffs clanked.
They weren’t warriors. They weren’t even Lycans. They were humans born with the Sight, drafted by the Council and trained to be tools.
I didn’t feel sorry for them. Not after what they’d done to Mara. But I wasn’t here to kill them either.
“Names,” I said, leaning against the doorway. Darius stood to my right, arms crossed and silent. Elias was behind me, watching the hall. Garrick was outside with orders not to come in unless called.
The woman answered first. “Mira.” Her voice was h
