Chapter 3

"He can't give it to you," Kaela snapped. She didn't move toward me. She didn't move toward Varric. "He's not a member. He's a nobody."

Varric finally looked at me. A thin, cruel smile touched his lips.

"A nobody who stumbled onto a god’s ledger. That makes him a very expensive mistake." He stepped forward, polished boots clicking on the stone. "The book, Silas. Now. Or I'll have Kaela carve the skin off your fingers one by one until you can't even hold a pen."

Panic spiked. A cold needle in my chest. I looked at Kaela—her knuckles were white on the hilt. She wasn't looking at me. She was staring at the floor, shoulders tense.

She wasn't just scared. She was broken.

"You said you'd help me!" I hissed. My voice cracked. "You said we were leaving!"

"Shut up!" she barked, eyes snapping to mine. There was hatred there, but under it? A plea. "You don't get it. He owns me. Everything I am."

"Not everything," I whispered.

I looked at the Ledger. The pages were flipping on their own now—a blur of gold and ink. I didn't know how to use this thing, but I knew one rule: it traded in value. And the most valuable thing in the room wasn't the book.

It was the chain around Kaela's neck.

Varric laughed. A short, sharp sound. "You think you're bargaining? You're a bankrupt brat in a dead house. Your life is currently trading at zero."

He reached out, hand open. Expecting me to fold.

I didn't. I stepped closer to Kaela, practically shoving the book into the space between us. I could smell the ozone from her blade and the metallic scent of old blood on her gear.

"I'm not giving it to him," I said, heart hammering. "I'm buying something."

Kaela stiffened. "What?"

"The contract," I glanced at Varric. "The debt-mark on your arm. The one that forces you to kill for him. I want it."

Varric paused. Boredom shifted to genuine amusement. "You? Buy a Debtblade's contract? Do you even know the price, boy? It's not gold. It's a blood-curse. You don't pay it—you absorb it."

"I don't care," I lied. My voice trembled, but I didn't back down. "Name the price."

"Everything you have left," Varric whispered, leaning in. He was so close I could see the gold flecks in his cold eyes. "Your soul. Your future. Every scrap of luck you'll ever have. You'll be a hollow shell. A dog on a shorter leash than she is. That what you want?"

I looked at Kaela. Horror and hope fought in her eyes. It was a fragile, pathetic kind of hope. I hated that I saw it. I hated that I wanted to give it to her.

"I'm not buying her," I said, my voice steadying. "I'm buying her sister's contract. The one you're using to keep her in line."

Silence. Dead silence.

Kaela's blade dipped. Her breath hitched—a small, broken sound. Varric's smile vanished.

"You've been talking," Varric said softly. "Who told you about her sister?"

"The book tells me everything," I lied again, gripping the leather tighter. I didn't know about a sister—I'd just seen Kaela flinch when he mentioned 'family.' I was gambling my life on a guess.

"You arrogant little shit."

Varric lunged. His hand snapped out like a viper for my throat.

I didn't scream. I slammed the Ledger shut against my own palm and shouted the only command that felt right: "Trade! Buy the sister's debt! Use everything!"

Gold exploded.

Searing heat slammed into my hand like a molten brand. I shrieked, the sound ripped from my lungs as golden light surged up my arm, burning through my sleeve. Liquid lead in my veins. I hit the knees, the Ledger clattering away, but the light leaped—a jagged bolt that struck Kaela square in the chest.

She gasped, back arching. The dark, swirling mark on her forearm pulsed a violent, crimson red. It looked like it was trying to tear through her skin.

"What did you do?" Varric roared, stepping back. "You can't just—"

He stopped. He looked at his hand. The heavy gold ring of authority was cracking. A spiderweb of fractures spread across the metal, then—*ping*—it shattered.

Kaela fell forward, gasping. The glow faded, leaving her drenched in sweat. She looked up at me, eyes wide.

"It's... it's gone," she whispered, staring at her arm. "The weight... I can't feel the pull."

I couldn't speak. I looked at my palm. A jagged black mark was burned into my skin—a closed book wrapped in thorns. It throbbed. Something cold and hungry was settling into my marrow.

Varric's face was pure hatred now. He didn't lunge. He stood tall, his voice a deadly whisper.

"You think you've won? You just signed your death warrant, Silas Quinn. You didn't buy her freedom. You transferred the curse. Now, the Guild doesn't just want the book."

He turned to the door and screamed, "Seal the perimeter! No one leaves! Get the collectors. We're peeling that mark off his skin while he's still awake!"

Kaela scrambled up, blade snapping back into place. She stepped in front of me, her shoulder brushing mine. I could feel her heat, the scent of iron and adrenaline.

"We have to go. Now," she hissed.

"Where?" I gasped, clutching my burning hand. "The building is locked down!"

"Ventilation shaft in the cellar," she said, grabbing my collar and hauling me up. "But we can't run forever. Varric just put a price on your head that would make a king blush."

As she dragged me into the shadows, I glanced at the Ledger. A single line of blood-red ink pulsed in time with the mark on my hand:

*Transaction Complete. Debt Transferred. Interest Accruing: 1% per hour.*

I looked at the door. The heavy thud of armored boots was getting closer.

"Kaela," I whispered, "what happens when the interest runs out?"

She didn't answer. She shoved me through a narrow grate. "Don't breathe until I tell you to."

We hit the cold stone of the cellar just as the door above burst open. A voice boomed through the halls—not Varric's. This was deeper. Like grinding stone.

"Find the boy. Bring me the Ledger. Intact or drenched in blood, I don't care."

Kaela froze. Her grip on my arm tightened until it hurt.

"That's not Varric," she whispered, trembling. "That's the High Collector."