Chapter 5

"I don't know what you're talking about," I spat. I tried to keep my voice from shaking. "The gate opened. That's it. I didn't do anything."

"Liar."

Cael leaned in. His chest brushed mine, radiating a heat that clashed with the damp chill of the stone corridor. He smelled like smoke and old rain. "The Holy City has been locked for a hundred years. These gates don't just 'open.' They recognize a key. And right now, you're the only key in the room."

I glared up at him, my breath hitching. "Maybe the lock is broken. Maybe this whole city is as rotten as the people running it."

"Stop lying to me, Mara."

He shifted his grip. The blade slid a fraction of a millimeter closer. "Who are you? Really? Because the girl I saw die three loops ago didn't have the keys to the kingdom in her pocket."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him I was just a trainee thrown into a pit. I didn't know why the bells were screaming or why the city treated me like a queen.

But then I remembered Leo. That small, moon-shaped birthmark on his wrist. Cael was the only one who remembered. He held my brother's memory like a hostage.

"I'm a prisoner, Cael," I whispered. "Ask Seline. Ask the people who chained me. Do I look like a key to you?"

He didn't pull away. He pressed closer, eyes scanning my face, trying to read the secrets in my pupils. The aggression flickered. His thumb brushed my jaw—a touch so light it was almost a mistake.

"You're a disaster," he murmured. "But you're the only disaster I've got left."

He stepped back abruptly. The blade vanished into its sheath with a metallic *click*.

Then, a wet, guttural scream ripped through the air.

I jumped, nearly tripping. At the end of the hall, three figures emerged from the shadows. Not human. Their skin was grey, translucent wax. No eyes. Just a dull, rhythmic glow pulsing in time with the distant bells.

"Puppets," Cael hissed. He stepped in front of me, his shoulder blocking my view. "Get behind me. Now."

"What are they?" I clutched the fabric of his cloak.

"Citizens who listened too long," he replied, voice tight. "They don't want to talk. They want to tear out whatever is making the bells ring. And right now, that's you."

One of the creatures lunged. It didn't run; it glided, limbs snapping at unnatural angles. Cael moved faster. He spun, carving a silver arc through the air.

*Squelch.*

Steel sliced through the puppet's neck. The thing didn't even flinch. It kept coming, jaw hanging open in a silent, eternal howl.

"Are you kidding me?" I yelled, scrambling backward. "You just cut its head off!"

"Aim for the core!" Cael shouted, dodging a clawed hand. "The bell-seed is in the chest!"

I had no sword. No knife. Just the warden's badge pinned to my chest—a heavy piece of brass. As the second puppet closed in, I didn't think. I lunged and slammed the badge into the creature's chest, right where the glow was strongest.

*Crack.*

An electric spark exploded. The puppet vanished into a cloud of grey ash.

I fell back, coughing. My lungs filled with the scent of burnt ozone. My hands were shaking.

Cael stopped mid-swing, his blade buried in the third puppet's ribs. He looked at the ash, then at me. Horror. Fascination.

"You just killed it with a piece of jewelry," he said.

"I didn't know it would do that!" I snapped, wiping ash off my pants. "Do I get a thank you, or are you going back to threatening to kill me?"

Cael let out a short, dry laugh. He stepped toward me, boots crunching on debris. "I think I'll stick to the threats. Keeps you honest."

He grabbed my wrist. Firm, but not cruel. "We need the archives. If the gates open for you, the records will tell us why. And how to stop this massacre before the thirteenth bell hits."

"Why do you care?" I asked. "You said you had an order to kill me."

Cael stopped. He didn't look at me. He looked at the ceiling, where the vibration of the next bell was already building.

"I do. I still do. But I've watched you die six different ways in the last hour, Mara. And for some reason, I'm starting to hate that part of the loop more than I hate you."

I felt a sharp tug in my chest. Not fear. Dependence. I looked at him—the man who remembered every wound I'd suffered—and realized I was terrified of being the only one who forgot.

"Just... don't let me forget Leo," I whispered.

Cael's gaze softened for a second. He squeezed my wrist, then pulled me forward. "Move. Before more of those things show up."

We sprinted. The stone walls shifted to iridescent glass that hummed under our feet. Every sealed door we passed clicked open. Every barrier slid back with a hiss.

The city was breathing. It was waking up because I was here.

"This is wrong," Cael muttered. "The archives are the most secure vault in the city. Even High Inquisitors need blood-rites to get in. Why is it just... letting us walk in?"

"Maybe it likes me," I joked. My heart was hammering.

"Or maybe it's bait."

We hit the end of the hall. The Archive Door was a massive slab of black iron, engraved with golden script. No handles. No keyholes. Just a smooth, oppressive surface.

Cael stopped ten feet back, hand on his hilt. "Stay back. If this is a trap, I'll be the one to—"

*Clang.*

Not a bell. Mechanical.

The iron slab shivered. Then, with a slow, grinding moan, the door receded into the wall.

Cold air rushed out. Old parchment and dried lilies. The room was pitch black, except for a single, flickering candle on a pedestal.

I stepped forward. A magnetic tug pulled at my gut, like a hand grasping mine from the dark.

"Mara, wait," Cael warned. "Don't go in there alone."

I ignored him. My boots clicked on the marble. The silence was absolute, pressing against my eardrums until I could hear the rush of my own blood.

Then, a voice drifted from the shadows.

Not a scream. Not a howl. A whisper—soft, familiar, and desperate.

"Mara..."

I froze. My entire body went rigid. I knew that voice. I'd know it if the stars fell from the sky.

"Leo?" I breathed.

*"Don't let Cael see,"* the voice whispered, right behind my ear. No one was there. *"Whatever you do, don't let him see the file on the desk."

I spun around. Cael was already stepping in, eyes narrowing at the heavy leather folder resting on the pedestal.

"What is that?" Cael asked, reaching for it.

I lunged, my fingers brushing the cold leather just as he gripped the other side. We locked eyes. Tension snapping like a wire.

"Give it to me," he commanded, his voice dropping an octave.

"No," I snapped, pulling back. "I need to see it first."

Cael didn't let go. He yanked the folder toward him and flipped it open with a sharp flick of his wrist.

As his eyes scanned the page, his face went pale. He stopped breathing.

"Mara," he whispered, his voice trembling with sudden, violent rage. "Who the hell is Ella?"

I stared at the page. In bold, crimson ink, was a death warrant.

The name at the top wasn't mine. It was a name I hadn't heard in years. And the order beneath it was simple:

*Execute on sight.*