Chapter 32 · Before the Ninth Lamp

The ninth lamp was in the governor's vault.

Shana said it like she was naming the price of grain. Casual. Done. She leaned against the burned wagon frame, arms crossed, and watched Alto the way you'd watch a dog decide between two bones.

Lira went pale. "My father's vault? That's—"

"Sealed stone, three locks, blood seal on the inner door." Shana's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Your blood, girl. Not his."

Alto didn't move. His hand was still on the knife at his belt, fingers loose, and his brain was running the same calculation it had run a hundred times in ambushes and bad camps. Three paths. All of them bleeding.

Path one: break into the vault, smash the ninth lamp, cut the ritual off at the knees. Kael lives. The witch-hunters lose their beacon. The Ashmar voices go quiet.

Path two: let the lamp light. Follow the thread back to whoever wanted the Ashmar dead in the first place. The hand behind the purge. The name on the kill order.

Path three: he dies trying to pick between the first two.

"How long do we have?" Alto's voice came out flat.

Shana shrugged. "Sunset. Maybe less.