For the last time, he woke up in the dorms. Raff blinked around the small room. It looked so empty. He'd packed up all his belongings but the essentials, and the room he was left with had white walls, two bunks, and a pair of small desks wedged in the corner. It could have been anyone's room. It could have been a room anywhere.

By the time Diego rang the bell to wake everyone, he was stuffing his nightclothes into his bag, the last of his kit. It was amazing how everything folded up so small. When he fastened the bag shut, the empty space made the top cave in. Everything he owned in one bag. It was a sobering thing to look at. This, at last, was proof that he was leaving. The end of this life, and the start of something else. What, he didn't yet know.

Suddenly, he wasn't excited for the crusades, not even a little bit. I don't want to leave, he realized, staring at that little bag. It wasn't the Schola he was attached to, or even Castelfiamma, but Sab, and Giada, and Milo, and even, somehow, Pasquale. Everyone he knew was leaving, and he'd be all on his own.

Again.

The cold pressed in on him from all sides. Raff shivered and resisted the urge to summon a flame. It was fine. It would be fine. It was spring, not winter, and everything was warm. He could always send them letters. They could meet up. They weren't going to leave him behind and forget about him.

Sab's hand settled on his shoulder, and he was back in the moment, almost sweating in his nicest dress uniform. With a deft motion, Sab spun him around and did his collar button, the same way he always did.

"Ready?" he asked.

Raff nodded, breathing out. "Ready," he confirmed. He stood, then hesitated at the sight of the pack on the floor. Take it? No. He'd be back for it after the ceremony. It wasn't time to go yet. He still had a little more time.

One last time, they marched across the street to the Shrine. It was still dark, the day not yet dawned. Two groups peeled off, a larger group heading for the outside, while the smaller group headed inside. Raff settled at his post outside and prepared to wait. Giada tossed him a surreptitious little wave as she marched past, and he tipped his head in response.

She was one of the lucky ones. Most of the new graduates were stuck outside the wall, same as Raff. He snorted to himself as the older Shrineguards marched in a few minutes later, all of them vanishing into the Shrine. Looks like the veterans snagged all the good spots inside, huh?

Several hours passed before the first of the priests arrived. Raff yawned and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. At first they trickled in, but the trickle quickly became a pour as the sun rose. Priests and commoners mingled, chatting around the doors. It became a battle not to blink himself to sleep. Do they really need this many guards? he wondered. They were posted every ten or so feet around the building, close enough he couldn't even shift without the guard to his left and right giving him the stink eye. What was he even here for? Those men from the tunnels were dead. There wasn't any real threat to Cecile or the Godstone anymore. There could always be more men like those, but really, he and the others were just decorations, weren't they?

The crowds petered out. Bells rang out, calling the last of the stragglers inside. Raff took the moment of an empty street to yawn, at last. Another lazy morning. Might as well enjoy his last day in Castelfiamma. Now that he was outside, not seeing the ceremony, he felt vague disappointment that he couldn't see it. Even if he was a little bitter about the whole thing, High Priests didn't ascend every day. He might never get a chance like this again.

"Pigs!" a man shouted.

Raff cut his eyes in the man's direction, curious where the pigs were, but found no animals. Instead, the man stood alone, glaring fiercely at the guards. "Locusts!" he continued, incensed. "Thieves! Steal our bread from our mouths, then throw parties while we starve?"

What? Raff glanced left and right, but everyone else looked as baffled about this as he did. Where had this come from, and why was the man so worked up?

The tavern he'd been chased from came to mind suddenly. Was that what this was all about? But surely no one was stupid enough to shout treason in broad daylight.

"Give us back our food!" a woman hollered in the distance.

Another man stepped up, out of the shadows of the nearest alleys, and then another, and another. They bunched into a group, while more poured from all over. Some of the men, Raff couldn't help but notice, were holding sickles, pitchforks, shovels. One wielded an old sword, though it was barely identifiable through the rust.

"How dare!"

"What've you ever done for me?"

"We're starving, while you rot feast!"

The mob advanced. Worried, Raff put his hand on his sword. This couldn't be happening. He hadn't signed up to kill villagers. Even if they had the wrong idea, he didn't want to kill innocents.

"Stand back!" Diego shouted with authority from somewhere down the line, as though he knew what was happening any more than the rest of them did. The earth grumbled as a ridge of stone pushed through the street in front of the crowd. They stepped over the six-inch bulge like it was nothing.

"What gives you the right to wield proper magic, and not us?" someone shouted.

"Just 'cause you can use magic, you get to eat our food?"

"Don't think you're better than us!"

Bam! A ball of flame exploded above the doors. Raff jumped, but no damage was done. It was a firecracker. Someone misusing one of the lesser soulstones they sold on the streets. A signal. The townsfolk surged forward as one. They rushed the Shrineguards, screaming, makeshift weapons in hand.

"Hold them back!" Diego shouted.

Closer and closer. He could see the whites of their eyes. Raff tightened his grip on his sword. Are we really going to fight them? We're supposed to protect them!

Someone jabbed a pitchfork at his face. There was no time to think, only react. Barely in time, he got his sword up and between the tines of the fork. Sparks flew as metal met metal. On the other end, the burly man grinned and twisted his pitchfork. Trapped between the tines of the pitchfork, the sword strained. Raff let it twist. The man spun his sword down toward the ground, then scratched up at him. Raff danced back, out of reach. The man stabbed, chasing him with the thrust. Thumbing the soulstone, Raff drew magic into his arm, spun it back into his sword. With a flourish, he pointed the sword at the man's pitchfork.

Fire raced from his hand down the length of the sword. It jumped the gap from his sword to the shaft of the pitchfork. Raff spurred it on with a little jolt of magic. The flame licked up the fork, danced around the man's hands. The man shouted and dropped the fork. Swiftly, Raff stepped into the opening. He slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's jaw. The man staggered back, stunned.

Another villager rushed to take his place. Raff threw fire from his blade, holding them back—but only for a second. How many were in this mob? How many could he take out without killing? I don't want to kill them. They were just ordinary people. But if he didn't fight back, they'd kill him.

"All you lovely guards over here, and who's minding the Godstone?" someone whispered in his ear, voice uncomfortably familiar.

A shiver ran down Raff's spine. The illusionist? But he's dead! They're dead! He searched the crowd, brows knitted. A villager darted in. He parried them back. Blades clashed, a knife buckling under his sword. Where? Where was the illusionist? Where was Cajetan?

There! At the back of the crowd. He winked at Raff and flipped that wave of hair back, irritatingly handsome. Anima was with him, green cloak flowing gently in the wind.

Metal glinted as it slashed at his stomach. Raff jumped back just in time to dodge the shovel. It whistled past, the edge sharpened. He hissed in a breath. There was enough weight behind that blow to slice his armor and his guts open. The villager lunged past him, too much weight in the blow. Fire rushed from the soulstone into him, warm as hunger. He took one hand off his hilt and pointed, and the shovel's handle set on fire. With his sword, he dealt a blow to the back of the man's head, dropping him.

He looked up, at the back of the crowd. The men were gone.

No! Shit! Raff spun, looking all around him. Angry villagers. Shrineguards with their hands full holding them back. No sign of either of the men. Of course there wouldn't be. One of them's an illusionist! Angrily, he lashed out with the flat of his sword. The dull thump of it meeting a woman's body did nothing to calm his anger. The spindle needle she jabbed at his face in retaliation didn't help, either. He slashed his sword at it, and the needle snapped. She ran at him, but when he threw flames at her feet, she staggered back.

"Sab!" he called.

As if by magic, Sab's head popped up over the crowd. Raff gestured, pointing at the back of the building, meaning: let's get away from this crowd.

Sab's brows furrowed, and he gestured ahead of him, then had to turn and swing at someone in the crowd. Right. How were they going to get away?

A blast of wind sent the whole mob staggering back. Yelps came from here and there within where some of the rioters fell and stepped on one another. With a moment to catch their breath, the Shrineguards rallied. Lightning arced through the crowd, dancing from one rioter to the next. They all fell at once when the current cut out. Raff held his hand out, and a fire sprung up beneath it and dashed towards the crowd, hot enough to give even the most devoted member of the riot second thoughts about charging at him. A blast of bright light centered somewhere to his right dazzled the mob's eyes as darkness and earth clung at their ankles, disrupted their footing. Slowed, the crowd was easier to deal with. Other, smaller magics burst or lunged from along the line, keeping the mob on its heels.

Raff knelt and scratched a quick circle in the earth, adding bonfire and long burn around the edge to focus the spell. He closed his eyes and held his hands over it, palms outstretched as if towards a bonfire. Magic rushed through the soulstone, through him and out his palms. Enough to keep it burning for an hour, he thought, brows furrowing. The magic leapt to obey, pouring out of him all at once. Like a fire, it seethed and leaped, jumping from one point to another, a feast, then famine. He struggled to harness it, the fire fighting him like an untamed stallion. More, more—enough! He cut off the flow of magic.

Instantly, he felt exhausted, and he staggered half a step before he managed to catch his breath again. He was starving and hollow inside, emptied out. Maybe an hour was too much. He glanced at the crowd, but even as restrained as they were, some were still fighting. As he watched, one struggled ahead of the others and ran at the nearest Shrineguard, sickle catching the light as it swung. Raff raised his eyebrows. Maybe not.

He jogged for the back of the building. "Hey! Where are you going?" Diego shouted after him.

"Fetching the guards from the back!" he shouted back.

Diego gave him a thumbs up, and off he ran. Around the corner of the building, past the albero d'ambra, past the tall, tall windows. He couldn't resist glancing inside as he ran. Cecile stood at the end of the room, listening intently as one of the priests droned on. She looked gorgeous, a red and gold gown hugging curves he hadn't known she had, a gold halo piercing through her bun to frame her face. He sighed with relief. Looked like the ascension was going fine. No one had even noticed the mob out front.

A Shrineguard snagged his sleeve as he ran past. "What's going on up there?" she asked.

"There's a mob—they need reinforcements," he reported.

The guard stared, wide-eyed. For a second, she was frozen. Then she snapped to life. "To the front, post-haste!" The other guards followed her, and then he was alone.

Sab caught up to him a moment later. "This had better be important," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. In one hand, he hefted the hammer, spinning it, catching it, spinning it, a restless air about the whole thing. There was blood on the head. Someone hurt him? Rage welled up in his gut. He flicked his eyes away. Now was not the time. He'd go back there and punish whoever'd hurt Sab later.

"Those men. They're still alive," he said.

"Who?" Sab asked.

Raff gave him a look. Who did he think he meant?

"No," Sab breathed. His brows furrowed, and he paused in spinning the hammer to rub the spot between them where they creased. "How? Are you sure?"

"I don't know. Yes, I'm sure. Who else would I mistake them for? I heard Ca—the illusionist's voice and everything." Raff bit his lip, then glanced at Sab. "They're still going for the Godstone."

Both of them turned towards the cells. Somewhere in that squat building, Edith and the Lost Godstone were squirreled away.

"But that's ridiculous. There's dozens of guards in there," Sab said slowly.

Raff shook his head. "Not today. Most of them are concentrated inside the Shrine, aren't they? It's a skeleton staff over there."

Sab's eyes lingered on the cell blocks. Raff stared as well, trying to figure out what he was looking at. They looked darker than usual, or maybe squatter than usual? The cells had never been handsome, and today, they looked particularly ominous. Stone walls loomed darkly. The metal spell circle had an evil glisten to it. Even the grass looked dry and dead. "I don't know," he said slowly. "They have the protection spell..."

He clapped Sab on both shoulders, drawing his attention back to him. Reluctantly, Sab tore his eyes away from the cells. "If I'm wrong, we run back over here and help with the mob, alright?" Raff said. "We'll only be gone for a moment. No one will even notice."

A long moment passed. Sab turned toward the mob, then the cells. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Raff said. A grin spread over his face. He'd got him.

A sigh. "Alright. Quickly," Sab said. He took off running. Still grinning, Raff followed, pushing himself to catch up. "You know this is technically desertion, right?"

Carelessly, Raff waved it away. Desertion? They'd be scrambling to kiss his boots when he saved the Lost Godstone from going missing again. No one would notice a little desertion.

The door to the cell block loomed up before he knew it. Imperiously thick, it stood solidly in their way. For a moment, Raff hesitated. How could the two of them get through these doors without anyone noticing? Surely—but no. With their illusionist, as skilled as he was, anything was possible. A disguise as one of the Shrineguards within, maybe, or... the options were endless. Doors weren't enough to stop them.

The last time he'd been through these doors, it was with his head bowed and hands chained. Now, he lifted his chin high and set his hands to the door. It let out a tortured screech as it swung open. A part of him cringed with leftover shame from his last time here, but he would not break. Defiant, he forced himself to stand tall. There was nothing to be ashamed of this time. No reason for his heart to race and his shoulders to hunch.

"Back so soon?" one of the guards asked with a laugh. Beside her, the other guard who flanked the entryway stifled a smile. The urge to cringe intensified. They remember me. He wanted to back out. Vanish. But there was a Godstone on the line, so he pressed on.

"There's a mob out there," he said. It came out wilder than he meant it to. A second ago, he'd been able to speak calmly with Sab, but now, his voice shivered with fear, or maybe excitement. A hand pressed to his chest found it was pounding with the racing of his heart.

The guard pushed off the wall and stomped over to the door. It squealed again. "Well, well, well. I'll be damned."

"We need backup—is there anyone who can—"

She turned and looked at the two of them. Something she saw made her sigh. "I've got to stay here or they'll have my ass. Greta, too." The other guard nodded. Raff's heart sank. "But," she continued, "there might be some guards deeper in who can be spared. Especially near that girl, what's her name—well, you know the one."

Raff's eyes sparkled. "We'll go!"

"Don't sound so eager," Sab muttered.

The guard gave them a look, but "hurry back" was all she said. She walked them to the metal gate that guarded the front from the rest of the prison. A heavy key turned in an old lock, and they were in.

Into the cells they went. The prisoners jeered at them, shouting insults he didn't care to make out. Raff hurried deeper. He didn't know where they'd put Edith, but it probably wouldn't be with the rest of them. The Godstone was too valuable to house it near the rest of the prisoners.

A few guards wandered the halls. They ignored Raff and Sab as they hurried past. Raff wanted to stop and ask them if they'd seen anything strange, but they couldn't waste the time. Just calling to Sab had been enough wasted time. If Anima and Cajetan had headed straight here, they'd be ahead of them already.

In the back of the cell block, there was a staircase down to the next level. Raff glanced at Sab, then shrugged. "I didn't see her up here," he said, already heading towards the stairs.

"Only one way to go," Sab concurred.

They descended.

It was quieter, under the earth. Fewer prisoners down here. As opposed to the raucous ground floor, the prisoners were subdued. Haggard faces turned towards them, unshaven beards and uncut hair draping over thin bodies. No one jeered at them. Some of the prisoners didn't even turn in their direction as they passed. Raff rubbed his hands up his arms, uncomfortable. Everything about this felt wrong. Eerie, almost.

Towards the back of the block, the cells emptied out. Cobwebs and dust had accumulated in these cells. The silence grew thicker, broken only by the rap of their boots against the stone floor.

The basement had never been bright, lit as it was by sparse torches and narrow, high windows, but the further they went, the darker it seemed to become. Raff rubbed his eyes. It shouldn't be this hard to see, should it? There were still as many torches as there'd been earlier. The further he went, though, the dimmer it got. It felt like he was walking into twilight. Shadows grew darker. Torches struggled to cast any light. Rather than spread, the light clung to the torches' flames, as though it was afraid to press further. Set in a sea of twilight, the torches only seemed to make the basement darker.

"Are you seeing this?" Sab muttered.

Raff looked at him sharply. He was seeing it, too? "The darkness?" he confirmed.

Sab nodded. Nervous, Raff swallowed. He hadn't seen Edith since the day of. Hadn't heard much about her, except that she'd gone insane. No one knew what it meant. Was it the Godstone? It was strong enough, but Godstones didn't drive their inhabitants insane. Was it not the Godstone? But it was so large, so dark. And if it wasn't, then Edith was committing heresy for embedding a soulstone in her body that wasn't a Godstone, and moreover, possibly possessed by a shade and incurable besides. If that was the case, then she should be put to death twice over. Hanging for embedding a Godstone, beheading or burning for a shade possession, depending on how far along the victim was. Was it the Godstone, and this darkness her doing? Or... was it something else?

Shrineguards faded out of the gloom. Five of them stood around a single cell at the far end of the block. They looked up and grabbed their weapons as Raff and Sab approached, but relaxed slightly when they caught sight of their uniforms.

"Who's sent you back here?" a man called out, stepping forward. The rank pinned to his chest identified him as the captain of this little squad.

Sab stepped forward. In the space between him standing beside Raff and looking up at the captain, he was suddenly breathless, his eyes wild. "A mob—they're trying to break into the Shrine! We need reinforcements."

The guards looked among each other. "And the five of us are going to help... how?" the captain asked.

He shook his head. "We're just recruits! It's madness. No one knows what to do. Our dorm leader's doing his best, but..." Agitatedly, he scratched his head. "I don't... if they get in, I—"

The captain raised his hand, silencing Sab. His eyes flicked from Sab to Raff and back. Raff shuffled his feet nervously and cast his eyes down. Did the man buy it? He wasn't lying, but... but if the captain didn't believe them— "Deanna, Eraldo. With me. You two, come along."

Raff's stomach leaped with fear. No! It'd worked too well! He glanced at Sab, half opened his mouth. There had to be something...

"Can we—can we take a moment—?" Sab asked, gesturing vaguely.

The captain gave them a disparaging look, the length of his nose pointed at them. Then he sighed. "A moment," he said.

Raff nodded gratefully, heaving a breath of relief. He caught himself, then let himself breathe out again. No, no, it was fine to be relieved. They needed a moment, after all. "We'll meet you out there," he threw out there, when the captain didn't seem eager to move.

The captain nodded. The three guards hurried off. Raff and Sab watched them go. They glanced at one another, and Sab nodded.

"Edith," Raff said. He moved forward, to the door of the cells. Edith was crouched inside in the center of a circle, head bowed by a heavy collar, her hands locked behind her. Spellwork glowed faintly in the carvings of the collar and cuffs. The circle under her was dull, somehow brutal in its plainness. Old language curled around the circle, carved deep into the stone itself. Beneath the circle, the cell floor was a single slab of stone to prevent any chance of a crack breaking the circle or corrupting the script. Edith didn't twitch at the sound of his voice. She remained huddled to the floor, a motionless lump of damp hair and dirty clothes.

"Move on, already," one of the guards said, shooing them.

Sab gave him a fierce look and lifted his finger to his lips. To Raff's surprise, the guard fell silent.

"Edith, are you alright?" Raff repeated. He needed to hear her voice. If he heard her voice, then she was here, and everything was fine. The illusionist couldn't replicate sound.

She was so motionless. He watched her desperately. If she breathed, if her hair twitched—nothing. There was nothing. His heart caught. Was he too late? Had Anima already collected her Godstone? Was she was already replaced by an illusion?

Her head snapped up to face him. Eyes black from edge to edge glistened. A smile spread across her face. "Salve iterum."

A shiver keened down Raff's spine. This time, he recognized the tongue; old language, the same thing that curled around the edge of the circle that sealed her in. "What are you?" he asked. Edith couldn't know that language. She barely spoke Boscan.

She jumped, as if he'd slapped her. Edith blinked rapidly. He glimpsed white in her eyes, blue irises. Fear contorted her face. The chains on her chains jangled as she shivered. "How—how did you," she asked, voice trembling.

"You need to move on," the guard repeated. He stepped towards them, reached for his weapon threateningly.

"Calm down," Sab said, putting his hands up. "We're about to go. Raff, she's fine. Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, it was something else."

"No, I—" Raff shook his head. Sab didn't understand. He hadn't seen it. Hadn't heard it. Cajetan, Anima, they were here. They had to be.

The guard moved closer. "Go. Now," he demanded.

What if he's the illusionist? Raff turned toward the guard and reached for his sword. "Sab, what if they're already here?"

"You're being ridiculous," Sab said, but he hesitated. Both of them turned towards the guards; Raff kept his eyes trained on the one who kept demanding they go. Why was he being so adamant?

Nervously, the guard searched their faces, eyes bouncing from one to the other. The second guard kept her back to the wall and her face impassive, but Raff was sure she'd step in the second anything happened. "You have to leave," the guard insisted, pointing the tip of his spear at them.

Raff stepped back, but only one step. He kept his hand by his sword. The nervousness could be an act. Only one of the guards had done anything so far. The female guard might just be an image, and this guard the only human here. If the guard got any closer, tried to get him to back away any harder, he'd attack. Anyone could be the illusionist.

"It's already too late," Edith said, and then she cackled. It was an inhuman sound, high pitched and low simultaneously, Edith's vocal cords straining to contain all the octaves she was trying to produce. Both Raff and the guard froze, conflict forgotten, and turned to face her. She was writhing inside the bounds of the circle, contorting her body in ways that seemed impossible. For a bare second, her body would take an almost familiar pose, crouching, sitting, and then she would begin again, shifting herself one bone, one joint at a time from one tortuous pose to another. Raff couldn't look away, no matter how much he wanted to. It was horrifying but somehow beautiful at the same time. No matter how she twisted or shifted, her face was always hidden. Now by a limb, now by her hair, then by shadow, but always hidden, always out of sight.

"She's never done that before," the guard murmured.

Suddenly, Edith froze. She whipped around to face Raff. One eye was black, the other normal. It was almost more startling than both going black. "You guessed wrong," she breathed. The half of her face with the pure black eye raised an eyebrow at him. The other half remained motionless, a doll's face, reciting words that didn't belong to it. Her hands, which had been bound behind her, had come around in front of her at some point during her writhing. Raff had not seen it happen, but it had. They pressed at the air in front of her, palms pushed flat against the spot where the circle barred her in as though it was a physical barrier as real as the one he'd broken underground, instead of one that merely threatened a deadly—he squinted at the script—voltage unto whoever crossed its line, and a suppression of all magic within. Edith laughed again, twisting her body but leaving her face towards him. Slowly, it rotated chin-up as her body churned, sinking into a kind of bridge stance one-limb-at-a-time.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

A huge boom rocked the cell block, shivering the stone walls and rattling the torches. The floor reverberated with it, sound redoubling over and over as though many heavy things were tumbling to the ground. Raff whirled to face it. That was from the Shrine, wasn't it? Screams shattered the silence, heavy thumps punctuating the whole mess. Some of the screams sounded inhuman, filtered through the narrow window and bouncing around the stone walls. Others were terribly, awfully human.

"More than one Godstone," Edith whispered. He spun to face her and found her sporting a hideous grin, more hideous for the emotionless doll half of her face. She'd come around upright again, crouched on the floor and staring up, challenging him with her eyes while her body clutched its knees and rocked in place. "Your precious girl is in danger. They've wrung out an army for her."

Shit! Raff turned. The guard was right. He had to go now. Maybe, if he ran fast enough, he could get there in time to—

He slowed. In time to... what? Cecile was stronger than him. If she needed help, he wouldn't be able to provide it. Anima was stronger than her. Stronger than any of them, from what he'd seen in the caves. And the illusionist—there was no time to waste. The screams. The thuds. How many people were in danger? Not just Cecile. But what could he do? What could he do to help?

Edith laughed again, a knowing laugh. "Let me free. I can save her. I can help."

Raff shook his head. He—nothing made sense. What was he supposed to do? "What are you?" he asked. If he knew, maybe, maybe he could grasp the situation. A shade? It wasn't Edith, but shades were slivers of souls, echoes. Most could barely eke out a few words, and then only words that connected to their demise. Whole sentences were beyond their grasp. It would have to be a lich, at least, but—

"That one knows," she said, extending a finger joint-by-joint. Raff stared down the line of her finger and found Sab there, wearing a startled expression.

"I—" he started, putting his hands up.

Edith cut him off with a sharp tch. "My name," she demanded, imperious.

Sab swallowed. He glanced at Raff for reassurance, but all Raff could offer was a confused stare. Sab... knew what she was? Why hadn't he said anything? The look turned betrayed. He'd known, and he'd left everyone in the dark? Why?

Sab's eyes flicked to the floor. The face Sab wore was not familiar, a darkness in his eyes and a conflict in his brows. It struck Raff suddenly that there were decades of Sab he did not know, that he considered a man his brother who had lived an entire lifetime he knew nothing about. This expression, surely, came from that man, and not the brother he knew.

Sab sucked in a sharp breath, as if he was about to plunge into icy water. "Tenebrae," he whispered, a breath, barely loud enough for Raff to hear. He whispered it like a prayer, like the name of a lover, like a curse. There was more desire in his words than Raff had known Sab could possess, tinged with something dark. Fear, sadness, hatred—it was impossible to say which. It was not the way Sab would say it. It was not right. He recoiled from the man instinctively, at this unknowable he had thought so known. The wall met his back before he realized he had retreated.

Edith cackled again, louder than before—not Edith, Raff reminded himself. Tenebrae. She threw herself to the ground with the force of her writhing, though somehow it was pleased, now, the squirming of a dog greeting a long-lost owner enacted with the slow terror of a body ripping itself apart. "Let me free. Set your god free."

Another explosion rocked the cells, this one strong enough to knock dust from the ceiling. On the ceiling overhead, he heard frantic footsteps, while the prisoners' shouts echoed down the staircase and along the hallway, fearful now. Out the window, the unmistakable keen of steel meeting steel squealed out. An army, Tenebrae had said.

"Cecile is in danger," Raff said aloud. He glanced upwards, but the narrow slit of a window offered no answers. "You'll save her?"

"Raff, do not set her free," Sab said.

The guard glared at him. "Don't take another step towards the cell."

Silently, the female guard raised her sword and pointed it at him.

"I will do everything in my power," Tenebrae chortled. "Should we have it up in writing? Shall it be a contract, dear? You set me free, and I will do all I can to save your Cecile."

"Raff," Sab said, a warning he'd heard many times before, and one he'd never heard before. Sab reached out. Raff flinched away, escaping the touch. He didn't want to be touched by this man. Those hands weren't familiar anymore. Sab wasn't Sab, he was... he was something else. Sab was a mask something ancient had worn. He'd only gotten a glimpse behind the mask, but now he saw it for the phony it was. How carefully Sab moved. How designed his tone of voice. How long had he fooled Raff? How long had Raff played the fool? He felt disgusted at himself. Disgusted at Sab for trying to fool him, but worse, at himself, for falling for it. How could a sage see him as an equal, in the first place? It was ridiculous that he'd believed it.

"I don't know you," he spat. "Get away from me."

Hurt flashed across Sab's face. For a second, Raff regretted the words. Then he steeled himself. Sab was an actor. He'd been acting all this time, pretending to be an ordinary child when he was anything but, pretending to be an ordinary man as he grew. It had been so perfect. He hadn't suspected a thing. Raff couldn't trust anything he saw.

So stupid! Raff stomped toward the guard with a spear, clenching his fists. The man staggered back, startled. "Don't come closer!" he shrieked, jabbing the spear at Raff.

Raff caught ahold of the shaft and yanked the spear out of his hands. The man startled, staring at his empty hands, then at Raff. He lunged for it, but Raff was ready, and he kicked him back. The female guard stepped forward, but the shadows thickened around her, slowed her motion. He pushed her away.

"If you betray me, I will kill you," he promised Tenebrae. He'd never killed before, but he knew he was ready to. If this creature lied about saving Cecile, god or no, he would find some way to destroy it.

A knowing grin was all he got.

"Don't!" Sab snapped.

Raff lifted the spear, lining it up with the bars on the cell. He took a deep breath. The world seemed to slow, spinning to a single point. The line of the circle. The stone

He thrust the spear at the circle.