The blade drove forward.
I didn't scream.
I didn't flinch away.
I did what Kael told me—what he *needed* me to do.
I didn't fight him.
I moved exactly one step to the left and turned my torso, the way he drilled into me in that mirror—*twist, don't pull.*
Steel punched into my chest.
Pain exploded so bright I saw white.
For half a heartbeat I thought I'd misjudged and my heart was gone—
But the blade didn't sink into the center of my chest.
It slid under my collarbone instead, ripping through muscle and heat and agony, driving out through my back with a wet, brutal force that stole my breath.
My mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Blood surged hot down my skin.
The temple knights holding my arms recoiled in shock, their grips loosening as my body sagged forward with the impact.
Kael's eyes were wide now—fully awake—furious and horrified and *forced*.
The Sunbrand at his throat flared, trying to lock his body again.
But he'd gotten what he needed.
A moment.
A position.
His mouth barely moved.
"Now," he rasped.
I used the blade inside me as leverage.
I grabbed Kael's chained wrist with my good hand and yanked him toward the altar with everything I had left, dragging him—not away from me, but *through me.*
It was madness.
It was survival.
The sword dragged through flesh as I moved, tearing, burning, making my vision tunnel. I bit down so hard my jaw ached just to keep myself conscious.
Kael stumbled with me, forced by my pull and by the tiny slack in his loosened cuff.
The High Inquisitor's pale eyes widened a fraction.
Too late.
Kael's sword—still lodged in my body—slammed into the silver basin on the altar.
Metal shrieked.
The basin tipped.
Dark, stored blood splashed out in a thick wave.
It hit the altar stone.
It hit the floor.
It hit Kael's chains.
And it hit me.
The effect was instant.
The blood wasn't just blood.
It was a covenant.
A leash made liquid.
When it spilled, the chamber hummed like a struck bell. The candles flared violently, bright enough to blind. The sunbursts carved into the altar glowed, then cracked with a sound like stone breaking teeth.
The High Inquisitor's gentle mask shattered into real anger.
"Stop—!"
Kael ripped his sword free from my body.
The motion was so fast I nearly collapsed. Warm blood poured down my front like a dress made of pain.
But I stayed on my feet.
I had to.
Because I'd just lit the fuse, and if I fell now, the blast would swallow me.
Kael's sword whipped down—not at me.
At the altar.
He drove the blade into the silver basin with a savage thrust, pinning it to stone.
Then he grabbed the basin with his free hand and *flung* it.
Silver shattered against the wall.
Dark blood sprayed in a violent arc, painting sunbursts and temple robes alike.
The chamber screamed with light.
The Sunbrand at Kael's throat flared once—bright, furious—
Then it sputtered.
Like a torch thrown into water.
Kael staggered, breath tearing out of him, and I saw the impossible: the crisp collar-mark on his throat cracked down the middle.
A thin line of red split it.
The brand dimmed.
His eyes—those winter-river eyes—went fully his again.
Alive.
Murderous.
Free.
Temple knights surged, shouting, but Kael moved like a released execution.
He didn't swing wildly.
He cut *clean.*
A blade through a wrist. A strike to the knee. A sweep that knocked two men into the altar hard enough to crack ribs.
Mara broke free in the chaos and slammed her elbow into a knight's throat, then stole his sword and turned it in one smooth motion. She fought like she'd been born in blood.
The palace captain backed away, horrified, clutching the church-marked bolt and staring at the shattered basin like it was the end of the world.
The clerk was still writing—shaking, crying, writing.
Adrian had stopped smiling.
His eyes were cold now, calculating, realizing the stage had tilted.
Liora's mouth hung open, tears forgotten, watching Kael like he was a monster stepping out of a story.
Good.
Let her see what I'd married.
Kael's gaze snapped to the High Inquisitor.
The Inquisitor stood unnaturally calm amid the chaos, though his eyes were no longer gentle.
They were sharp.
Hungry.
He lifted his bleeding hand, palm up, and spoke one word I felt in my bones more than heard.
"Return."
The blood on the floor moved.
Not splashing.
*Crawling.*
It pulled inward as if something unseen dragged it back, thin streams sliding across stone toward the altar like veins seeking a heart.
My stomach lurched.
Even shattered, the covenant wanted to reform.
Kael saw it too.
He lunged for the Inquisitor.
For the first time, he moved without restraint, sword raised to end this.
The Inquisitor didn't step away.
He smiled.
And pointed at me.
"Hold," he whispered.
My chest ignited.
Not pain from the wound.
Something worse.
Something *inside* the wound.
A hot, searing pressure clamped around my heart like a fist.
My vision flickered.
My breath caught so hard I gagged on blood.
I stared down at myself.
Under the ripped, blood-soaked fabric of my dress, a sunburst was blooming on my skin—right over my heartbeat.
Bright.
Crisp.
Burning itself into me.
"No," I choked.
Kael froze mid-lunge.
Not because the Inquisitor commanded him.
Because he saw the mark on me.
His eyes went wide, rage twisting into something raw.
"Seraphina—!"
The Inquisitor's voice was soft again, almost pleased. "Ah. There it is."
Adrian exhaled slowly, a smile returning at the edges. Like relief.
Like victory arriving late but arriving all the same.
Liora's hands flew to her mouth. "Sera…!"
I couldn't hear her. The roar in my ears drowned everything.
My heart stuttered.
Once.
Twice.
It felt like invisible fingers were squeezing it, testing how easily it would stop.
I grabbed the front of my dress with shaking hands and tore it down enough to see the brand.
A sunburst over my heart.
A holy collar—only for a woman.
A leash—only quieter.
The Inquisitor's pale gaze met mine. "You signed in blood tonight, child. Contracts are such convenient doors."
My throat burned. "That contract was with him."
"Blood is blood," the Inquisitor said gently. "And you spilled yours on a vow. Then you spilled covenant blood on a broken altar. You made yourself a vessel."
A vessel.
I shook, fury and fear tangled together. "You can't—"
He tilted his head. "I can."
He lifted two fingers—those same fingers that had touched the basin and drawn sunbursts in the air—and pinched them together.
My heart seized.
Not metaphorically.
My body jerked. A strangled sound tore from my throat as my heartbeat *stopped* for a fraction of a second—long enough for the world to tilt.
Then it released, slamming back into motion so violently I nearly blacked out.
I gasped, sucking air like I'd been drowned.
Tears sprang to my eyes, not from weakness, but from my body betraying me.
The Inquisitor watched my reaction like a man watching an experiment succeed.
Kael's voice came out low and broken with rage. "Take it off her."
The Inquisitor smiled. "It doesn't come off."
Kael took one step forward, sword lifting again.
The Inquisitor didn't flinch. He only looked at Kael and spoke softly.
"Move," he said, "and her heart stops."
Kael froze.
His sword trembled in his grip—not from fear.
From helpless rage.
I'd never seen a man like him hesitate.
It terrified me more than the brand.
Adrian's smile widened fully now. "So that's your leash," he murmured, almost admiring. "Not chains. Her."
I turned my head and met Adrian's eyes.
If I could move, I would've clawed them out.
Instead, I forced my voice through blood and pain. "You'll still lose."
Adrian's smile sharpened. "You don't get to promise anything anymore."
The Inquisitor's gaze slid to the clerk and the captain. "Witnesses," he said softly. "How annoying."
The captain stiffened.
The clerk went white, clutching the ledger tighter.
The Inquisitor lifted his hand as if brushing dust from air.
Two temple knights—still standing—moved toward the clerk.
Mara tried to intercept, but another knight slammed into her, locking blades.
Steel rang.
The clerk stumbled back, terror drowning him. "N-no—please—"
I surged forward on instinct.
My heart clenched again—warning.
I froze, choking on rage.
The Inquisitor smiled at me. "Careful. Your body is very… responsive now."
Kael's head snapped toward the clerk.
His voice was a low snarl. "Touch that ledger and I will—"
The Inquisitor cut in calmly. "And she will die."
Kael stopped.
His jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might crack.
I saw it in his eyes: he was calculating the angle, the speed, the risk. He was trying to find a way to kill the Inquisitor before my heart could be crushed.
And I realized something sickening.
I wasn't just leverage now.
I was a shackle on Kael.
A leash made of flesh.
My chest burned where the brand sat, pulsing faintly with each fragile heartbeat.
The temple knight grabbed the ledger from the clerk.
The clerk made a choking sound and reached for it—
The knight slammed him into the wall. The clerk slid down, sobbing, ink spilling across his fingers.
The captain took a step forward, furious and frightened. "That ledger is palace registry—!"
A temple knight backhanded him hard.
The captain hit the floor.
The church-marked bolt clattered away.
Adrian watched it all with bright satisfaction, like the mess was finally being cleaned the way he liked.
The Inquisitor turned back to Kael, voice gentle as poison. "Now, Duke Rivenhart. We continue purification."
Kael's sword arm tightened.
He didn't raise it.
He couldn't.
The Inquisitor smiled wider. "You will kneel."
Kael didn't move.
The Inquisitor's gaze flicked to me.
My heart clenched again.
Harder.
I gagged, pain ripping through my chest. My knees buckled. Blood rushed hot from my wound, making the floor swim.
Kael's face changed.
Not softness—something worse.
Something like panic.
He moved instantly, catching me before I hit stone, one arm braced around my back, careful of the wound.
His hand was firm, cold, protective.
My breath came in ragged gasps against his shoulder.
He lowered his head, voice so low it was almost a growl in my ear. "Don't let him see you break."
I laughed once—broken, bitter. "He already owns my heart."
Kael's arm tightened. "No."
The word came out like a vow.
Then he did the unthinkable.
He lowered his sword.
And he knelt.
The chamber went silent again, the way it does when a predator finally bows its head.
The Inquisitor's smile turned serene. "Good."
Adrian stepped closer, smug, looking down at Kael like he'd always believed this day would come.
Liora clutched Adrian's sleeve, eyes shining with victory.
My father lay near the altar, bleeding from his shoulder, watching with haunted eyes, too weak to speak.
Mara was still fighting, cornered, teeth bared like a wolf refusing to die quietly.
And I—half in Kael's arms—felt the sunburst brand pulse over my heart like a second heartbeat that wasn't mine.
The Inquisitor leaned down slightly, addressing Kael with gentle cruelty.
"Now," he murmured, "you will escort Lady Vale to the purification cell. Alone."
Kael's jaw tightened.
He didn't look at Adrian.
He didn't look at Liora.
He looked at me.
And in his eyes I saw it—cold fury, restrained violence, and something that made my chest tighten in a different way.
A promise he couldn't speak out loud.
Because if he did, my heart would stop.
The Inquisitor lifted two fingers again, smiling as if savoring the final line of a prayer.
"And Duke Rivenhart," he added softly, "if you try to run… I will squeeze."
My heart clenched hard enough that black spots swarmed my vision.
Kael's arms tightened around me to keep me upright.
And the last thing I saw before the darkness licked the edges of my sight was the Inquisitor opening a side door—narrow, black, descending deeper—
and gesturing politely for Kael to carry me inside.