Chapter 12 · The Bell Rings Early

"Get your hands off me, Dax!"

I wrenched my arm, but he didn't budge. His grip was a vice, fingers digging into my wrist, dragging me back into the center of the archive room. Water swirled around my ankles—black, thick, and filled with shredded paper that looked like floating skin.

"Look at the page, Mara," he snapped. The polished judge was gone. His voice was raw, jagged. "Look at the names!"

I looked. The ink was still wet, crawling across the parchment like a parasite. My name was there. *Mara Vance.* And right beneath it, carved in a violent, aggressive script: *Dax Calder.*

"What the hell is this?" I hissed. My heart hammered against my ribs. "A joke? Some underground prank?"

"It's a death warrant." Dax stepped in. He was too close. I could smell ozone, cold rain, and the metallic tang of old blood. "The vault doesn't just record the past, Mara. It predicts the harvest. We aren't targets. We're the fuel."

I shoved his chest. It was like hitting a brick wall.

"Let me go! I can run the alleys. I know the routes the Bell can't find. You're a walking beacon for every monster in Glassharbor.