The prison hated noise.
I learned that very quickly.
Every step echoed just a fraction too long. Every breath felt louder than it should have been. Even the soft scrape of cloth against stone seemed to linger, as if the walls themselves were listening—and judging.
Which made sneaking through it with Revik an exercise in patience I did not possess.
"Do your boots have to announce themselves?" I hissed quietly over my shoulder.
"What?" Revik whispered back, far too loudly. "I'm being subtle."
He clipped a loose stone with his heel.
The stone skittered.
The echo bounced.
I closed my eyes.
Somewhere in the distance, I felt the wards twitch.
Revik froze. "—Okay. Maybe not subtle."
I exhaled slowly through my nose and motioned him forward again, keeping low as we moved along the narrow corridor. The prison walls here curved inward slightly, as if leaning close to listen to our thoughts. Pale runes pulsed faintly beneath the stone—wards layered on wards, each one humming at a different frequency that made my skin itch.
Magic still didn't answer me properly.
The dragonbane was gone from my blood, but the wards had left an absence—a hollowness, like a limb that hadn't remembered how to wake up yet. The gods were distant. Muted.
Which meant this—
This was all me.
And for once, that didn't scare me.
I slid to a stop at an intersection where three corridors branched apart, each identical in shape and size. I crouched, fingers brushing the stone, feeling for vibration, airflow—anything that would tell me which path was wrong.
Revik leaned down beside me. "So," he whispered, "no pressure, but if you guess wrong, do we die quickly or—"
I shot him a look.
He grinned. "Just asking."
I smirked despite myself. "If we die, it'll be your fault. Take comfort in that."
He snorted softly.
The pull tugged at my chest again.
Subtle. Persistent.
Forward and down.
Toward him.
I stood and gestured left. "This way."
Revik blinked. "You sure?"
"No," I said cheerfully. "But the prison wants us to go right, and I don't reward bad behavior."
The walls hummed faintly, almost irritated.
"Oh, don't start," I muttered as we moved.
The stone beneath our feet shifted ever so slightly—as if adjusting.
I scowled. "Don't like it? Do something about it."
Revik stared at me. "Are you… talking to the prison?"
"Yes."
"…Should I be worried?"
"Only if it starts answering."
We moved faster after that.
I kept to the shadows, timing our steps between the slow, unnatural pulses of the wards. Guards passed twice—once so close I could hear one of them muttering about night duty and bad wine. Another time, I was almost certain they weren't real at all.
They moved wrong.
Too smooth. Too synchronized.
Illusions? Constructs? Wards wearing the idea of soldiers?
I wasn't sure anymore.
The prison didn't need bodies to stop you.
It only needed doubt.
I tugged on the bond again.
Stronger this time.
I paused mid-step, breath catching as the sensation sharpened—not just awareness, but response.
He was closer.
And—
He pulled back.
Just slightly.
Like he'd felt me tug on the thread between us and reacted on instinct.
My heart kicked painfully in my chest.
"Okay," I whispered. "That's new."
Revik tilted his head. "What's new?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Everything. Keep moving."
We slipped through a maintenance tunnel barely wide enough for our shoulders, the ceiling low and uneven. My skin crawled the deeper we went, the silence growing thicker with every step.
Too thick.
I frowned.
Then I realized—
Revik hadn't made a sound in several seconds.
"Revik," I whispered without turning around. "If you step on one more stone—"
No answer.
I stopped.
Slowly—very slowly—I turned around.
The tunnel behind me was empty.
No Revik.
No footsteps.
No echo.
Just smooth stone where the corridor should have been.
My stomach dropped.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
The walls around me shifted, seams knitting together with that same soft, patient certainty. The prison hadn't panicked. Hadn't rushed.
It had waited until Revik trusted it.
Until I trusted it.
I pressed my palm to the stone. Cold. Solid.
"Wow," I said quietly. "That was just mean."
The stone hummed faintly in response.
"Oh, don't pretend you didn't enjoy that," I muttered. "You let us get this far just to yank him away again."
The wall rippled—barely perceptible, like a smile I didn't want to imagine.
"I'm really not happy with you," I added.
No answer.
Figures.
I swallowed, forcing the panic down.
Revik was alive.
I knew that much. The pull in my chest hadn't fractured the way it would have if something terrible had happened. The prison separated. It didn't kill—not unless you broke first.
I exhaled slowly.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Plan B."
I turned back toward the direction the pull indicated and started moving again.
Alone now.
The corridors grew narrower, stranger. The stone patterns shifted subtly when I wasn't looking directly at them. Turns appeared where none had been before. Stairs sloped at angles that made my balance stutter.
I avoided guards—real or not—by instinct more than sight, slipping into alcoves and half-formed passages, pressing myself flat against the stone when necessary.
Once, I nearly ran straight into a patrol.
I ducked just in time, heart pounding, breath held as they passed so close I could smell the metal of their armor.
They didn't look at me.
They looked through me.
I wasn't sure which was worse.
The pull sharpened again.
Strong.
Immediate.
Right—
I turned a corner at the same moment he did.
We collided.
Hard.
Instinct took over before thought had time to interfere.
I grabbed him.
Wrapped my arms around his torso and buried my face against his chest, the relief so sharp it stole my breath for a heartbeat.
Solid.
Warm.
Alive.
Then—
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked solid beneath my grip.
Oh.
I pulled back instantly, heart leaping into my throat.
"…Oh. Gods."
I stepped away so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. "Sorry. I— I thought you were Revik."
Smooth, Lyra. Very convincing.
Raiden stared down at me, red eyes unreadable behind the blue mask. For a split second, I could swear they looked—
Disappointed.
The thought was dangerous.
I shoved it away.
He tilted his head slightly. "You hug Revik often?"
Heat flooded my face. "Only when he's being exceptionally annoying. Or unconscious."
"Hm," he said. "Shame."
The word landed oddly.
I forced a crooked smile. "Don't get your hopes up."
I squared my shoulders, pushing the moment aside before it could turn into something else. "Once we get everyone out and leave this lovely nightmare of a prison, you can chase me to your heart's content."
His gaze sharpened. "And you expect to escape?"
"Oh, absolutely," I said brightly. "I plan to make it very inconvenient as well."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Then—
He chuckled.
Low. Brief. Real.
The sound hit me like a blow to the chest.
My heart skipped.
I hated that it did.
"Little thief," he murmured.
Hope stirred—reckless, unwanted, dangerous.
I crushed it.
"Come on," I said, turning back toward the corridor. "We still have a prisoner to rescue."