Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
Rin didn't touch the needle.
She wanted to. Her fingers twitched. But Kael had used her mother's name like a leash, and the moment he'd said it—*Little Ember*—something in her chest had gone cold and sharp.
No one alive should know that name.
"You're lying," she said.
Kael didn't blink. He stood with his back to the cell door, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The other still held the silver needle between two fingers, angled so the faint script along its shaft caught the torchlight.
"I'm not."
"Then prove it."
"I just did."
Rin's jaw tightened. The chain around her wrists rattled as she shifted her weight. Her brand throbbed, a low burn that had been getting worse since the platform. She'd ignored it through the first reset. Through the second. But this time it felt different. Hotter. Like something was waking up under her skin.
"My mother's been dead for twenty years," Rin said. "You weren't even born yet."
"I was six," Kael said. "She came to our court. My father was still alive. She brought a sealed letter and a box my mother wouldn't let me open. I wasn't supposed to remember."
He turned the needle over in his hand.
"But I do. Because three days later, your mother was found dead in the river outside the city, and my mother burned everything she'd touched."
Rin's breath caught.
She'd heard the story a hundred times. Her mother drowned. An accident. A fall. The sect had sent condolences and a small pension that lasted two years. No one ever said *murder*. No one ever said *cover-up*.
But Kael was looking at her like he'd been carrying this secret his whole life.
"Why tell me now?" Rin asked.
"Because you're out of moves," Kael said. "And so am I."
He stepped closer. The cell was small. The kind of place they put people before they decided whether to kill them quietly or make an example. Kael's shadow fell across her, and Rin had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
He was taller than she remembered. Broader in the shoulders. The kind of build that came from real training, not ceremony.
"You reset," he said quietly. "I don't know how. I don't know how many times. But I know you did, because the first time I killed you, you didn't fight back. The second time, you tried to run before the trial even started. This time, you looked me in the eye and said my mother's name."
Rin's pulse hammered in her throat.
"You've been watching me."
"I've been waiting," Kael said. "For you to stop dying long enough to listen."
He held out the needle again.
"Take it. Or don't. But if you want to know why Varric wants you dead so badly he's been rewriting trial records for two decades, you're going to need help."
Rin stared at the needle.
Then she heard footsteps.
Kael heard them too. His hand dropped to his sword, and the needle vanished into his coat in one smooth motion. He turned toward the door just as it swung open.
A guard stepped in, already talking.
"Your Highness, the hounds are—"
He stopped.
Behind him, low and wrong, came the sound Rin had been dreading since the reset: the wet, rattling growl of a sect hound.
They weren't supposed to be here. The cells were warded. No beasts, no spirits, no stray techniques that could interfere with a clean execution.
But the hound came through the doorway anyway, all matted fur and too many teeth, its eyes glowing the same sickly yellow as the brand on Rin's back.
The guard stumbled backward.
Kael drew his sword.
The hound lunged.
Kael moved faster. His blade came up in a clean arc, and the hound's head hit the floor before its body did. Blood sprayed the stones. The guard made a choking sound and ran.
Rin didn't move.
She couldn't.
Because the hound's blood was pooling toward her feet, and where it touched the edge of her shadow, it *hissed*.
Kael turned, breathing hard, his sword still raised.
"What the hell was that?"
Rin swallowed.
"I don't know."
"Rin."
"I don't *know*."
But she did. Sort of. The brand on her back was burning now, a heat that made her vision swim. And the blood on the floor wasn't just blood anymore. It was moving. Crawling. Reaching.
Kael grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.
"We're leaving."
"I'm chained to the—"
He yanked, and the chain snapped. Not cut. Not picked. Just *snapped*, like it had been rusted through.
Rin stared at him.
Kael didn't explain. He shoved her toward the door, one hand still on his sword, the other tight around her wrist.
They made it three steps into the corridor before someone else appeared.
Not a guard this time.
Mira Yao leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, her med kit slung over one shoulder. She looked like she'd been waiting.
"Took you long enough," Mira said.
Kael's sword didn't lower.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Rin's backup," Mira said. She looked at Rin. "You look like shit, by the way."
"Mira," Rin said, "what are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are. Not dying." Mira pushed off the wall and nodded toward the corridor behind her. "There's a service exit two floors down. No guards, no hounds, no sect patrols. But we've got maybe five minutes before someone notices the blood trail, so let's move."
Kael didn't budge.
"I don't know you," he said.
"Good," Mira said. "That means I'm doing my job."
She looked at Rin again, and her voice dropped.
"You reset again, didn't you?"
Rin nodded.
Mira sighed.
"Great. That's three. You know what happens if you hit four?"
"No."
"Neither do I," Mira said. "But I'm betting it's not good."
She tilted her head toward Kael.
"Is he coming, or are we leaving the enemy prince to explain the dead dog?"
Kael's grip on Rin's wrist tightened.
"I'm coming," he said.
Mira grinned.
"Then let's go."
They ran.
Down two flights of stone stairs, through a storage hall that smelled like old grain and rust, past a row of empty cells that still had bloodstains on the walls. Mira moved like she'd been here before. Kael kept his sword out. Rin just tried to keep up.
Her brand was still burning.
By the time they reached the service exit, she could barely think through the pain.
Mira shoved the door open and pulled Rin through. Kael followed, glancing back once before slamming it shut behind them.
They were outside now. A narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people. The sky overhead was the color of old bruises.
Mira grabbed Rin's shoulder and spun her around.
"Let me see your back."
"Mira—"
"Now."
Rin turned. Mira yanked her shirt up, and Kael went still.
The brand was glowing.
Not just hot. *Glowing*. A faint, pulsing light that traced the edges of the mark like someone had drawn it in molten gold.
Mira swore under her breath.
"What is that?" Kael asked.
Mira didn't answer. She dug into her med kit and pulled out a thin blade, the kind used for field surgery.
"Hold her."
Kael hesitated.
"*Hold her*," Mira snapped.
Kael moved behind Rin and gripped her shoulders. His hands were steady. Warm.
Mira pressed the blade against the edge of the brand.
Rin bit down on a scream.
The blade cut shallow, just enough to peel back the top layer of skin. Mira worked fast, her hands sure, and then she stopped.
"Got it," she said.
She pulled something out of the wound.
A pin. Thin. Black. No longer than a fingernail.
Kael stared at it.
"What is that?"
Mira held it up to the light.
"Listener pin," she said. "Old sect tech. Someone's been tracking her."
She looked at Kael.
"And since it's keyed to royal frequencies, I'm betting they've been tracking *you* too."
Kael's face went pale.
Mira crushed the pin between her fingers.
"Whoever planted this knows you two have been talking," she said. "And now they know you just saved her life."
She dropped the broken pin into the dirt.
"So," Mira said, "what's the plan?"