"Drop the hammer, Mara. Now."
Cael’s hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. He jerked my arm back before the iron tool could smash the bell's tongue. I slammed into the cold stone pillar, the world tilting on its axis.
"Get off me!" I snarled, twisting my arm. "It's the only way! Break the tongue, the bell can't ring. The massacre stops. We stop dying!"
Cael didn't budge. He stepped in, crowding me against the narrow ledge. He smelled like rain and old gunpowder. He didn't just hold my wrist; he pinned it to the stone, fingers digging into my skin.
"You think it's that simple?" His voice was a low vibration I felt in my own ribs. "Break the tongue and you don't stop the signal. You just mute the warning. We'll be blind to the next reset until our heads are ripped off again."
"I can't keep doing this," I gasped. I looked down at the dizzying drop. The streets below were already swarming. Citizens with vacant eyes, moving in a jerky, synchronized rhythm toward the center. "I can't hear Leo’s voice and then wake up with a blade in my gut every thirteen minutes. I'm done."
Cael’s gaze softened, barely. He shifted his weight, his thigh pressing against mine to keep me steady on the ledge. His free hand reached up, thumb grazing the cold metal of the dampener collar around my neck. A jolt of electricity shot down my spine. Fear. Or something worse.
"Listen to me," he whispered, locking eyes with me. "The voice in the archive? Not a ghost. A frequency. The bells aren't just ringing, Mara. They're broadcasting. Track the signal, we find where they're holding him. You break this bell, you kill the only beacon we have."
"Why do you care if I live?" I spat. I stopped fighting his grip. "You're the rebel. You're the monster here."
Cael let out a dry laugh. He leaned in, lips inches from my ear. "Maybe I am. But I'm a monster who remembers. Every time you die, I feel the ripple. Frankly? Watching you get slaughtered for the tenth time is getting boring. I'd rather you be useful."
I shoved him. He didn't move an inch. A wall of muscle and spite. "Useful. Right. That's why you put a leash on me?"
"The collar keeps your mind from shattering," he countered. He stepped back just enough to give me air, but his eyes never left mine. "Every reset takes a piece of you. A memory. A face. You already forgot your mother's favorite song, didn't you?"
I froze. I reached for the melody—something soft, lavender and old books—but there was nothing. Just a grey, echoing void. A cold pit opened in my stomach.
"What did you do?"
"I didn't do it. The loop did," Cael said, his tone turning clinical. "The more you die, the more the bell consumes. Eventually, you're a hollow shell. A perfect vessel for Seline. Is that what you want? To be her puppet?"
I looked at the bronze tongue shimmering in the dying light. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the tower down with my bare hands. Instead, a single tear slid down my cheek.
"I just want my brother back."
Cael sighed. For a second, he sounded human. He reached out, hand hovering near my cheek before he caught himself and dropped it. "Then stop playing hero with a hammer. We need the lower levels. The signal is strongest at the Well of Rites."
"The Well?" I wiped my face. "Seline has Inquisitors there in rings of ten."
"Which is why we aren't using the front door." He grabbed my hand—firm, grounding—and pulled me toward the spiral staircase. "We're using the vents. And if you trip, I'm not carrying you."
"You'd probably just leave me for the puppets," I muttered, following him. "Very rebel-commander of you."
"Correct," he replied. He didn't let go of my hand as we descended into the dark.
At the second landing, the air changed. Ozone and wet copper. I stopped dead. A low hum vibrated through my boots. Not a bell. A chant. Thousands of voices merging into a distorted drone.
"Do you hear that?"
Cael stopped, head tilting. "Hear what?"
"The chanting. It's... calling my name."
Cael’s grip tightened. "I don't hear anything, Mara. Which means it's not a sound. It's a direct link. She knows you're here."
Blue light erupted from the masonry, glowing runes spiraling down the shaft. The temperature plummeted. Frost bloomed on my breath.
"Damn it," Cael hissed. He shoved me against the wall, shielding me with his body as a sonic shockwave ripped through the corridor. Stone cracked. Dust rained down.
I gasped, pressed against the freezing wall. Cael’s warmth was the only thing keeping me from shaking. I could hear his heart drumming—fast, steady. He didn't look at me; he was staring down the hall, hand on his hilt.
"Stay behind me," he commanded. "If the light turns red, run. Don't look back. Don't wait for me. Just run."
"I'm not leaving you again," I snapped, voice trembling. "Not after the last loop."
He glanced back. A strange, unreadable look. "You remember that?"
"I remember you telling me to run while you held off a dozen guards with a broken sword," I said. "You're an idiot, Cael Rook."
"And you're a liability, Mara Vey." A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "Now shut up and move."
We crept forward, the blue light pulsing like a dying heart. We reached a balcony overlooking the Great Well—a massive shaft dropping hundreds of feet. At the bottom, thirteen colossal doors were embedded in the rock.
One by one, they ignited.
One. Two. Five. Ten.
When the thirteenth door flared golden, the humming in my head hit a crescendo. A command.
*Come home, Mara.*
Then, a new voice cut through. Crisp. Polished. Merciless. Seline Orr's voice echoed from the depths like poisonous mist.
"Such a waste of a trainee," Seline mused. "Cael, I know you're hiding her. I can smell her fear. It's so... vivid."
Cael stiffened. His knuckles turned white on the sword hilt.
"Here is the deal," Seline continued, sounding playful. "Bring me Mara Vey, alive or in pieces, and I'll give you the key to the archives. I'll even let you see the boy. But if you keep playing protector..."
A wet, tearing sound echoed from below. Then a scream, cut short.
"...I'll start killing the survivors one by one. Starting with the ones who still remember her name."
Cael didn't move. He didn't breathe. He just stared at the golden door, jaw set.
"Cael?" I whispered, reaching for his arm.
He didn't look at me. His voice was dead. "She's lying. She doesn't have him."
"How do you know?"
He finally turned. The look in his eyes made me recoil. Not anger. A cold, calculating hunger. "Because I'm the one who saw where they took him. And Seline doesn't even know the door exists."
The floor groaned. The balcony shuddered. A heavy iron grate slammed shut behind us, locking us in.
From the darkness of the shaft, a dozen red eyes snapped open.
"Well," Cael said, drawing his blade with a lethal hiss. "Looks like we're out of time."
I looked down. At the bottom of the well, the thirteenth door slid open. A single, blood-stained piece of parchment fluttered upward in the draft.
Cael caught it in one fluid motion. He unfolded the paper. His face went pale.
"What is it?" I demanded.
He stared at the ink, then at me, his voice a bare whisper. "It's a death warrant. And it's not for you."