Chapter 9 · Basement. Third door behind the tapestry of the Weeping Saint

"Basement. Third door behind the tapestry of the Weeping Saint," he muttered, his energy spent. He looked small in that massive chair, a broken prince in a crumbling kingdom. "But if you go down there, you're stepping into the mouth of the beast. My father doesn't like guests in his gallery."

I didn't give him a second glance. I bolted from the room, my footsteps echoing like gunshots in the silent corridor. I didn't care about the Mark on my neck. I didn't care about Silas. All I could hear was Julian’s words: *A girl.*

My sister had been gone for three years. Three years of scouring the sunken city, bribing officials, and performing illegal surgeries on the dying just for a lead. The Inquisition had told me she was 'purified'—a polite way of saying they'd burned her alive for her research. But they lied. They always lied.

I reached the basement, the air growing thick and damp, smelling of salt and old blood. I found the tapestry—a grotesque depiction of a saint shedding tears of gold—and shoved it aside. The door was heavy iron, cold to the touch. It wasn't locked.