Seiren woke up, cold and alone. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. The night stretched into an eternal blackness. Little red eyes glowed in the dark, accompanied by scurrying feet and squeaks. Draughts snaked in from all directions, caressing her skin until goosebumps rose, and slithered away. The air froze the inside of her throat, making breathing tough. Saliva congealed just on the roof of her soft palate and she coughed, almost inhaling it.

The drip of water echoed eerily around.

Everything came flooding back. Their capture at the Benover port. The king's mages had preempted their return from Acrise. The pointed runed guns. The cold but triumphant look from Karis Bonneville, one of the king's mages.

And their eventual incarceration in the dungeons beneath the Council of Mages.

"So the good news is," came Rowan's voice from somewhere to her right, "we're both still alive."

"Great." Seiren groaned. Had it only been a few hours since their capture? It felt like days already. "So what's the bad news?"

There was a jingle of metal. Seiren squinted through the darkness. Rowan raised his shackles.

"Ah."

She sat up, her own shackles clanking and digging into her skin. She groaned; her joints ached with the chill in the dungeon. The stone beneath her was icy. She patted her pockets -- of course there was nothing left. Someone must have put in a sedating rune on her back. She couldn't even remember losing consciousness. She felt naked with the paper-thin rag she now had on. With a shudder, she could only imagine who must have stripped her down and robbed her of her runes and Ashworth's knives.

Ashworth's knives. Nothing spelt her as a traitor more than her being in possession of a rebel mage's weapons.

Well, this hole just gets deeper and deep--

Seiren paused, eyes going wide. Her heart skipped a beat. Her hands flew to her neck. The chains followed, swinging with vigour into her ribs.

Madeleine was gone.

No, no, no!

Seiren scrabbled across the ground, her nails scraping across the floor. Her fingers picked desperately at each pebble. Gone. It was gone.

"What's wrong?"

"Madeleine," Seiren choked out. "She's gone."

There was a brief pause.

"We'll get her back."

"How can you be certain?" Her voice rose. "She's--"

"Hush. They're listening."

Her heart drummed in her ears. The isolation came back with a chill, wrapping its arms around her insecurity. It was like back in Bicknor again when she'd hurled Madeleine away, except it was not through her own sheer stupidity this time. Stripped of their power, stowed away where nobody would find them, they were doomed.

Through her whirlwind of panic and desperation, Loren's grey eyes shone through, smiling at her in her familiar, confident manner. Seiren sat back, curling her hands together and clutching them to her chest, mimicking the heavy sensation of the red crystal against her ribs. She eased her breathing in and out.

Don't panic. Don't panic. She imagined Madeleine speaking to her.

When the drumming in her ears and thumping against her eyelids lessened, she opened her eyes again. The dungeon came back clearer once she'd adjusted to the darkness. It was a tiny, windowless cell. Metal bars clustered together, too narrow to squeeze through. She picked up a stone and sketched a red rune in the ground. Any medium would do; she didn't care for the unpredictability of non-chalk drawings. She held her breath before snapping her fingers.

Nothing.

It figured. Locking up mages required more than just a physical barrier. The entire cell was probably lined with nullifiers. They were well-prepared for Rowan and Seiren's capture.

"They saw us coming, huh," she said tonelessly.

"I was too rash. They have ears everywhere." Rowan kept his voice low, but she could detect the frustration in his voice. "She warned me. She told me to be careful. I wasn't careful enough."

Seiren knew he meant Kommora. With probing ears everywhere, it was obvious he didn't want to implicate their only potential help on the outside. But knowing how Kommora Haigh not only predicted the breach in Acrise, but prepared for it -- or had she planned it? Along the extensive contacts she had behind the scenes, Seiren wasn't even sure if she was on their side. But Kommora must know Karis Bonneville killed Loren. Surely Seiren couldn't be the only one outside of the king's mages to realise that.

"Rowan."

"Hm?"

"Karis Bonneville."

"What about her?"

Seiren took a breath. She wondered if there was a gentle way of letting him know. But without Madeleine, her mind came to a blank.

"Karis Bonneville killed Loren." The words came tumbling out of her mouth. She almost feared his reaction.

There was a stunned silence.

"You're sure?" His voice held a dangerous undertone to it, making Seiren shiver.

"I saw her. Seeing her again at the port -- I'm certain. She and someone else -- I think it was Butterworth -- were there back when I found Loren in Benover. She tried to attack me, but Butterworth--" Seiren squeezed her eyes shut. The images flashed before her eyes, clear as day. Each individual brick, each droplet of rain, each strand of platinum blonde hair on Karis Bonneville's head. She saw it all. "--stopped her."

He took so long to speak again she opened her mouth to fill the silence, only to shut it without a word.

"If Bonneville killed Loren, then there was only one way she could have died." Rowan's quiet rage was worse than any screaming or crying Seiren expected. It was as if the world slowly incinerated with his fury. "Organic magic."

The words took Seiren's breath away. The forbidden magic. The dark arts. King's never taught them beyond their discovery seven years ago and subsequent abolishment when it was still in its infancy. Destructive runes powered by intense flash magic, a combination deadly and rare. King Pollin issued that order within the year after his ascension to the throne after hearing its debilitating effects on the users and victims. Seiren couldn't help but feel surprised that something of that calibre wasn't used in warfare, like her regenerative runes.

Or perhaps it was, but only amongst the king's mages.

Seiren was filled with a raging desire to tear the blonde's head from her shoulders and fill it with orange runes before turning her into an inferno.

"Where's Butterworth?"

"I released him."

She coughed. "But why?!"

Rowan's voice was wry. "When the country's military points their guns at you and the king's mages have you at their mercy, you can't help but do exactly what they want."

Their final bargaining chip. Gone. They were truly helpless.

"What's our escape plan?" she said in desperation.

"Our what?"

"Oh. My. Runes."

"You make it sound like I anticipated us being caught. Believe it or not: I didn't. The cells are runed against all magic. There's no way in hell we can get out of this." He sighed. "Now, we wait."

"You're kidding."

"Sometimes waiting is also a skill, Seiren. Rest. Things are only going to get worse from here."

From the silence, it seemed Rowan had taken his own advice. Swallowing her indignation, Seiren leant back against the wall, staring with resolution at the wall through the darkness. The exhaustion hit her like a train. Despite the icy stone surface, Seiren found her eyelids drooping. Time passed without much meaning. A door slammed from up above. Her eyes flew open and she jumped, heart pounding in her ears. For a moment, she forgot where she was again, her hands straining against the cuffs and her eyes darting over the foreign room. The memories trickled through the exhaustion, along with the nauseatingly familiar sensation of defeat.

"Get up, Nithercott," barked an unfamiliar voice. There was the jingle of keys and a soft glow of a violet rune. The glare of a fresh yellow rune blinded her, leaving a black spot that hovered in the middle of her field of vision. She shielded her eyes, but then a pair of hands clamped upon hers and jerked her forward, almost sending her flying. Her knees scraped the floor. She bit her lip but didn't make a sound as she struggled to her feet, ensuring she glared at whoever it was that still clutched her shackles.

"Where am I going?" she demanded.

There was a snort and another jerk. The light shone on her face. She squinted back, scowling. "Better shed that snotty attitude, little girl. You're seeing the king."

Pollin? Seiren didn't get a chance to look at Rowan as she was towed out of the dungeons and up the stone steps. After several security checks and scrutinising eyes from guards, she emerged onto a deserted marble corridor on the ground floor of the Council of Mages. The guards said nothing in response to her questions. She hurled some insults; still nothing.

They took her down a wing she'd not been in before. Paintings gazed down at her as she stumbled along, passing by windows that opened to a private garden and a setting sun -- had it only been a few hours since they were caught at the port? Or had it been days already? Nobody crossed their path. Her bare feet tingled on contact with the freezing marble floor. Two soldiers flanked her sides and two followed her from behind. The ones behind had their runed guns pointed at her back at all times. Whatever was in their debriefing had grossly exaggerated her threat.

She couldn't help but feel a little smug seeing them freeze a little with her every sniff.

They swung one of the grand, decorated doors open. The soldier who had his hand clamped on her shoulder along the way gave her a rough shove, almost sending her face-planting onto the floor. The gold lining on the doorway could have rivalled Recca Mirren's house. Seiren thought of the haughty old hag mage who met her demise at Halen Ashworth's hands in Iwade and felt no remorse whatsoever.

Seiren found herself in a huge hall. The sounds of the soldiers' heeled boots echoed across the room into the high ceiling. Half-dimmed light runes shone onto the ground, giving the atmosphere an eerie glow. The soldier gave her another shove. Just as she turned around to give him a hell glare, he sniffed and marched away. Her entourage followed suit.

She was left alone in the room.

Someone cleared his throat. No. She was not alone in the room. She whipped around. There was nobody around her. She squinted up, wondering if the semi-darkness was there for a purpose, to make the ones under scrutiny feel insignificant and vulnerable, perhaps. There could be a whole squadron up there with their weapons pointed at her and she couldn't even see a single soul.

As her eyes adjusted, she spotted three people standing high above. King Pollin stood in the middle, tall, broad-shouldered, and those eerie green eyes without a spark of life stared down at her. Beside him was the greasy-haired general Seiren had seen at the port -- Rowan had called him Villin. He had a square chin and a slim but athletic build, and eyes that were bathed in shadows thanks to his long hair. Rinoa Gruger stood on the king's other side, her hood now withdrawn. Her pale blue eyes almost glowed in the darkness, expressionless, like an eagle awaiting a kill. She had porcelain skin and crisp, ash grey hair streaked with white, and stood with a stillness that reflected the impenetrability of the marble hall.

"State your name," Gruger said. Even her voice was toneless, devoid of colour, like her skin.

Seiren contemplated a sarcastic answer, seeing as there was nothing worse they could do to her now. She was guilty, whatever she said. But Madeleine's presence in her head for the past six years must have rubbed off.

"Seiren Nithercott."

"Seiren Nithercott: you are hereby brought to trial before King Pollin Miracle I for failure to obey command, abandonment of post, and treason at the city of Acrise. Have you any--"

"That's not true!" she shouted, stamping forward before pausing. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her mind was in a flurry. What would Madeleine say right now? Calm down. Tidy your thoughts. Argue your case. She heaved a breath. "That's not true at all."

King Pollin's expression didn't change. He nodded, ever so slightly, asking her to elaborate.

"Butterworth -- Mage Butterworth -- arrived at Acrise. He said he had instructions from Your Highness. He said your instructions were to kill the citizens at Acrise."

He didn't react. Seiren had half-expected it, but seeing how unaffected he was by the inhuman order just made her heart sink further.

"And did you?" Gruger prompted. Seiren shook her head.

"Mages' roles are not to take the lives of citizens. We're to support the country."

"Mage Nithercott: kindly recite the third commandment of the Mages' Oath."

Seiren swallowed. "I will obey the orders of my country and apply my skills for her benefit."

"Did you so swear to obey the commandments on graduation from King's Academy of Magic?"

"Yes."

"Precisely. And you did not obey the orders of King Pollin."

"A king who does not have the welfare of his countrymen is no king at all." Seiren's voice trembled.

There was a deadly silence.

"Do you deny your refusal of the order?"

Seiren clenched her shaking fists that were shackled before her.

"No," she said through gritted teeth.

"Do you deny abandoning your post at Acrise despite explicit instructions to stay there?"

"No."

"Do you deny being the creator of the monsters released in Acrise, costing hundreds of civilian and military lives?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "That wasn't me."

"Oh?" Rinoa Gruger's icy blue eyes narrowed. "You're denying your role in their presence?"

"I created them, b-but--"

"So you're saying someone else released them?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

She swallowed. She wanted to accuse the king's mages, but who would believe her? Not them. And not King Pollin, certainly. It would seem like a desperate attempt to shift the blame. She created them, that much was clear, but who had taken her research after her abandonment she had no idea. She had no proof.

"I don't know."

"You're claiming your innocence through blaming an unnamed party of this crime?"

Seiren didn't know what to say.

"You realise you will be declared guilty of this crime unless you supply us with adequate proof otherwise."

"My research was for healing, not for war." Seiren steeled her words. "My confiscated documents will make that clear. I don't know who did it, but it wasn't me."

"Your research was in the hands of the Hannan army, which took over Acrise. You claim innocence of that, too?"

The blood drained from Seiren's face. Rinoa Gruger looked to King Pollin, who stepped forward and cleared his throat once more.

"For your disobedience of royal orders, Seiren Nithercott," he said, in a voice that could have been mechanic, for it was so devoid of human emotion, "you are hereby stripped of your mage title."

Seiren's breath left her lungs. The world stood still.

"For your crimes against the crown, you are sentenced to exile to Moakai until your death."

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

"No," she whispered. She couldn't be exiled now. People needed her. Madeleine was still here. There was a war coming. She stared, imploring, at King Pollin's green eyes, but they were an endless permafrost and darkness. They were two storeys apart in height, but it felt like hundreds of miles to his true self. He blinked and turned around, disappearing into the shadows. Gruger followed him. Their footsteps echoed, becoming fainter. Brigadier General Villin gestured. The doors slammed open behind Seiren and familiar hands clamped over her shoulders.

"Take her away," said the brigadier general with an imperious wave. "First train to Moakai. No stops."

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