Chapter 9 · When the City Kneels

The screaming starts three seconds after the mark flares.

Nessa's on her knees before she knows she's falling. The stone floor slams into her shins and her hands go out, palms scraping, and the sound coming out of her mouth isn't even hers. It's every marked sigil maker in Veyra, every stolen breath, every body hitting stone at the exact same second across fourteen districts.

She can feel them. All of them. Threads pulling tight under her ribs, a thousand hooks buried in her chest.

"Get up." Dorian's voice cuts through the noise. He's standing over her, blood running down his arm from where the chains caught him, and his face is white. Not scared. Furious. "Nessa, get up now."

She can't. The mark on her wrist is burning, black lines crawling up her forearm like they're trying to reach her heart, and every pulse sends another wave through the city. She hears boots on cobblestone. Doors slamming. Someone sobbing two streets over.

"They're gonna blame me," she chokes out. "They're gonna think I did this."

"They already do." Dorian grabs her arm and hauls her upright.