Page 42 of The First Scar
He traced a finger along the map, casual as if discussing trade routes. "Control the Codex, and you control the flow of bodies to the Veil Mines. Erase a name, and that name ceases to exist in the Crown's eyes. Alter an entry, and a Shadowmarked child becomes Luminar overnight."
His pale gaze lifted to mine.
"The vault has been unreachable to fae for decades so no one could alter it. The original keepers required two keys to open it as a fail safe. One of Light. One of Shadow. Wards that have kept us out for years—because no single-marked rebel can breach both." A ghost of a smile. "You see the problem. You see the solution."
I said nothing. He hadn't asked a question.
"Retrieve the first key. Then the second. And when the vault opens, we take the book that decides who lives free and who dies in the dark." He tilted his chin up, eyes sweeping the room like he was daring someone to object. "That is the purpose. That is the prize. Does that satisfy your need for clarity?"
"And what's guarding it?"
"Old wards. A Stone-Wight, if the scouts are accurate. The wards are dual-natured—Light and Shadow both. Which is why you're going."
Brannick leaned forward, tapping the map. "The masonry on the west face is basically gravel holding hands at this point, so we scale the rafters—Ryla and I will have your back, you’ll be going first and we’ll act as a net, but watch your footing, or you’ll ride a landslide straight into a patrol." He slid a coil of thin rope across the table toward me. "You'll need this."
"I'll use my own gear."
"Suit yourself." He didn't push. Smart man.
Maxx slow-clapped twice. "Trust issues. Adorable. This is going to go great."
Ryla spoke for the first time. "Cute." Her fingers kept working the crossbow string, not bothering to glance my way. Then she did—and the look she gave me could have pinned me to the wall. "Just remember, this is a team mission. Your paranoia becomes my problem the second it gets someone stabbed."
Her partner—Torin—just watched me with quiet, measuring eyes.
I choked down some of my shame and nodded.
"When do we leave?" I asked.
Kaelen's thin smile returned. "Now."
Resigned, I pulled the amulet over my head. The stone dropped against my sternum, and my Unravel dimmed and muffled. The lies I'd been sensing hedging every conversation faded to whispers.
I hated it already. Half-deaf and walking into a den of liars. What could go wrong.
Chapter 10
AMARIA
The stronghold's exit was chaos in motion. Rebels checked straps, counted blades, muttered last-minute instructions to each other like prayers. The usual ritual before people went somewhere that might kill them. I'd done it enough times to know the ones who talked the most were the ones most afraid of the quiet.
Maxx leaned against the cave wall, somehow looking bored and ready to kill someone in equal measure.
I was triple-checking my gear—when Kaelen crossed to Maxx and handed him a leather kit. A murmured instruction, too low to catch. Secrets already. We hadn't even left yet.
Maxx sauntered over, that insufferable grin already in place, and held the kit out like it was a shiny medal. "Present from the boss. Mark-tempered steel. Won't shatter when you channel through it."
I flipped the kit open. A dozen blades glinted inside, each one etched with faint runes along the spine. Beautiful work. Expensive. The kind of gear I couldn't have afforded in three lifetimes of honest work.
I selected one—a mid-length blade, balanced for throwing—and closed the kit.
Maxx's eyebrows rose. "Just one? There's a whole—"
"One blade's easier to retrieve." I met his grin with a hard stare. "If you turn on me."
He clutched his heart in mock offense. "You wound me, Flameheart. Truly."
I tucked the knife into my belt, the weight unfamiliar but manageable. One blade I could test. One blade I could lose if it failed—or if the people who'd given it to me did.
