Chapter 29 · The Dead Man Stands

"Get the hell back, Vesper!"

I didn't yell it. I hissed it, the words scraping my throat like broken glass. I was already on my feet, my boots clicking against the cold marble of the Inquisition's inner sanctum. The sensation was wrong—too steady, too powerful. My legs didn't feel like my own; they felt like twin pillars of obsidian and spite.

Behind me, Vesper froze. I could hear her breathing, sharp and jagged. She didn't move for three seconds. Then, the sound of a blade sliding from a sheath sliced through the air.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she snapped. Her voice was a whip, cracking with genuine panic. "Lucian, get back in the chair. Now!"

I didn't look back. I couldn't. If I looked at her, the illusion of the Dream Sovereign would crack. I kept my eyes locked on the three Inquisitors standing twenty feet away. They looked like statues carved from ivory and arrogance, their white robes stained with the blood of the guards they'd just butchered.

"You're walking," Vesper whispered. The blade whistled as she stepped closer, her boots clicking in a frantic rhythm. "You're actually walking.