Chapter 4

*Crack.*

Calder hit the floor, sliding across the dusty boards. Through the ring, I felt it. A white-hot flash of agony exploded in my own side, mirroring his. I screamed, my back arching, the spike in my shoulder twisting deeper.

"Shut up," the Eraser snapped. His voice was a flat, mechanical drone. He leaned in close. His breath smelled like ozone and old copper. "The Council doesn't like loose ends. And you, little courier, are the loosest end in the city."

"Let her go!" Calder gasped, clawing at the wood to drag himself toward me. His eyes were bloodshot, desperate. "Take me. Just take me!"

"Oh, we will," the Eraser said. He reached for a humming, silver cylinder on his belt. It looked like it could erase a soul from the inside out. "But first, we need the key. Mira, tell me where the sequence is, or I start deleting his memories. Starting with the ones where he remembers how to breathe."

Mira was three feet away, leaning against a stack of forbidden ledgers. She looked bored. She picked at a fingernail, scanning the room like she was shopping for furniture.

"A bit dramatic, don't you think?" Mira asked. "The sequence isn't in a book. It's in her."

I blinked, my vision swimming. "What?"

"The ring, honey," Mira said, her gaze finally hitting me. Cold. Dead. "It doesn't just bind you. It's a vault. To get the route to the Forbidden Prison, the ring has to unlock a memory. A real one. Something you've spent years trying to forget."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I spat, trying to shove the Eraser. He didn't budge. He felt like a stone wall.

"Wrong answer."

The Eraser pressed a button. A low-frequency hum filled the room, vibrating in my teeth.

Calder screamed. Not from pain—this was raw, pure terror. He gripped his head, knuckles white. Through the bond, a flood of images slammed into me: a rain-slicked alley, a silver blade, the smell of burning ozone... and a face. My face. Looking down at him with a cold, unfamiliar smile.

"Stop it!" I shrieked. "Stop it now!"

"The ring wants a trade," Mira called out. "Give it a memory, Lena. Give it the night your mother left, or the Eraser turns Calder's brain into a blank slate. You want him to forget you? Because that's what's happening."

I looked at Calder. He was shaking, his eyes locked on mine. He wasn't fighting the Eraser anymore; he was fighting the void. I could feel his consciousness fraying. He'd died twelve times for this. He'd fought through hell twelve times. And now he was disappearing because of me.

"Do it," Calder choked out. "Lena... don't. Let him... erase me."

"Shut up!" I yelled. I turned to Mira. "How? How do I give it the memory?"

"Focus on the ring," Mira said. "Imagine you're peeling back a scab. Rip it open. Give the ring the pain, and it'll give us the map."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to go back. The memory was a dark room, the smell of stale cigarettes. My mother's hand—cold, trembling—pressing an iron key into my palm. Her whisper: *'Don't let them find the mark, Lena. If they see it, you're already dead.'*

I pushed. I shoved the memory into the ring, feeling a physical tear in my chest, like something was being ripped out by the roots.

*Ping.*

The silver cylinder went dead. On the wall, a holographic map flickered to life. A jagged, glowing vein of gold cutting through the slums, leading straight to the High District. The Forbidden Prison.

"Got it," the Eraser muttered. He yanked the spike out of my shoulder with a brutal twist. I slammed back against the desk, sobbing for breath.

"Now," the Eraser said to his partner. "Kill the girl. Leave the officer. The Council wants the courier dead, but they want the officer to watch."

Before the giant could move, Calder launched himself. He tackled the man with a force that shattered the shelving. They went down in a heap of crashing books and splintering wood. Calder didn't use a weapon. He used his hands, slamming his fist into the visor with rhythmic, desperate violence.

"Run!" Calder roared. "Lena, get out of here!"

I scrambled up, shoulder throbbing, and grabbed Mira's arm. "Come on!"

"Wait," Mira said, eyes gleaming. "I need the ledger."

"We're going to die!" I yelled, pulling her toward the exit.

"I'm not dying for a courier's panic attack," Mira snapped. She dove back into the wreckage, snatched a leather book, and sprinted after me.

We burst into the smog-choked alley. Sulfur and wet asphalt. I looked back. Calder was still fighting, a silhouette of rage against the matte-black armor. He looked like a demon in the strobe lights.

"We can't leave him," I whispered.

"He's a Spell Officer, Lena. He's built for this," Mira said, though she didn't sound sure. "Besides, we have the route. Now we just get to the prison before the next reset."

I felt a tug in my gut—the bond. Calder was alive, but he was exhausted. His lungs were burning. He was pushing past the breaking point to keep them off us.

"I'm going back," I said.

"You're an idiot," Mira replied. She checked her watch. "Ten minutes before the perimeter seals. If you're not back, I'm taking the map to the highest bidder."

I didn't answer. I ran back inside, sliding across the floor, dodging a stray blast of energy that scorched the wall next to my head. I found Calder pinned. The Eraser's boot was on his chest, the silver cylinder pressed against his temple.

"One last chance, Officer," the Eraser sneered. "Who's paying the courier?"

"Go... to... hell," Calder spat, blood spraying from his lip.

I didn't think. I grabbed a heavy iron bookend and slammed it into the Eraser's kidney. He grunted, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.

That was all Calder needed. He surged up, grabbed the Eraser's wrist, and snapped it with a sickening *pop*. He ripped the cylinder away and threw it across the room. It exploded in a flash of white light, knocking both Erasers backward.

I grabbed Calder's arm, hauling him toward the exit. He leaned on me, his heavy frame nearly crushing me, his breath hot and ragged against my neck.

"You... came back," he wheezed.

"Don't make it a habit," I snapped, though my hand was shaking.

We reached the alley. Mira was tapping her foot. She pointed toward the glowing map, still flickering as the ring's energy stabilized.

"The Prison," she said. "That's where the truth is. And that's where the Council keeps the things they can't kill."

We moved through the shadows, avoiding patrol drones. Every time I looked at Calder, I remembered Mira's words—twelve lifetimes of lies. I wanted to scream it in his face. But every time I opened my mouth, I felt the warmth of his hand gripping mine. A silent, desperate plea for trust.

Hours later, we hit the perimeter. The Forbidden Prison wasn't a building. It was a monolith of black glass and humming circuitry, floating above a lake of shimmering mercury. Cold air. The smell of ozone and old death.

"How do we get in?" I whispered.

"The ring," Calder said, his voice low. "The memory you gave... it opened the gate."

The massive obsidian doors ground open with a sound like a mountain splitting. A gust of freezing wind swept out, carrying the scent of sterile halls.

I stepped forward, boots clicking on the polished floor. As the light hit the interior, I froze.

Standing at the end of the hall, bathed in a single, cold spotlight, was a woman. White prisoner's gown. Wrists chained to the wall. She turned her head slowly, and the world tilted.

She had my eyes. My nose. My exact face.

"Who the hell is that?" I whispered.

Calder didn't answer. He stepped in front of me, shielding my body, his voice trembling for the first time.

"Don't look at her, Lena. Don't listen to a word she says."