Chapter 27 · The Fourteenth Knock

"Get your hands off her, Cael."

Seline’s voice wasn't a scream. It was a blade—cold, precise, and aimed right for the throat. Her boots clicked against the stone ruins, a steady rhythm that sounded like a countdown.

Cael didn't budge. He had Mara pinned against his chest, arm locked around her waist, fingers digging into her tunic. He was breathing hard. He smelled like ozone and old blood. When he looked at Seline, the hatred in his eyes made the air vibrate.

"She’s not a tool for your ritual, Seline," Cael spat. "And she’s sure as hell not going back into that machine."

Mara felt like she was floating in a void. Her head spun. There was a hole in her mind where a face used to be. A name. A voice. Someone she’d loved more than her own life had been there, but when she reached for it, she found nothing but static.

"I don't remember," Mara whispered, her voice cracking. She looked up at Cael, eyes wide. "Cael, where is he? Where's my brother?"

Cael’s grip tightened. He couldn't look at her. He was the one holding the memory now. He could feel it—