Adriana Cael stood at the highest balcony of the estate, her crimson robes flaring like a banner of war in the early morning wind.
Tartarus stretched below her—still asleep, still unaware that House Cael's grip had slipped, if only slightly.
But she knew.
She always knew.
The first sign was silence. The second, Lira not reporting in. The third, a missing knight from the midnight watch. She hadn't needed a report to feel it in her bones: something had moved beneath her notice.
And now, the fourth sign—a cell in the catacombs, opened from the inside.
Nerys Cael was gone.
Adriana turned from the view, jaw clenched tight. Her footsteps echoed through the grand chamber as she descended into her private war room, a circular chamber lined with old blades and older scrolls.
Two knights waited there—lesser ones. Not loyal enough to trust, but competent enough to obey.
"Seal the city," she ordered, voice sharp enough to slice stone. "Discreetly. No trade wagons in or out. Check every cellar and sewer in the lower districts."
The younger knight hesitated. "With respect, Lady Cael, if we do that openly—"
Adriana crossed the room in three strides and backhanded him across the face.
The crack echoed.
"Do not explain my politics to me," she said coldly. "Seal it. Quietly. Anyone who asks questions is branded a sympathizer."
He bowed low, hand over his swelling cheek. "Yes, my Lady."
She turned away, pacing toward the massive map on the back wall—etched into obsidian, showing every alley and underpath in Tartarus. Her eyes roved over the west district.
The servant wing.
Of course.
She'd overlooked it. Not because it wasn't obvious, but because it was beneath her.
Her lips curled.
"Send word to Alden," she said.
The room went still.
The other knight spoke cautiously. "Lady Adriana... Lord Alden is not subtle."
"Good," she snapped. "Subtlety has failed me."
She stepped closer to the map and laid one perfectly manicured hand over the west quarter.
"They broke into my prison," she whispered. "Stole my daughter. And somehow convinced the traitor to live."
She turned, face calm, but her eyes burned.
"I want the Ice Witch dragged back in chains," she said. "And I want the demon alive. I've questions for her."
"And the elder daughter?" the knight asked.
Adriana smiled thinly. "Bring her to me."
Her fingers curled into a fist.
"I want her to see what happens when you love the wrong thing."
Adriana didn't wait long.
The moment word reached her that Alden was within the estate walls, she had the war room cleared, save for a single chair waiting by the fire and a table holding a fresh goblet of Cael-brewed spiced wine.
It was all he ever wanted—comfort and blood.
He arrived late, of course. Always with an entrance.
The doors opened with a theatrical groan, and in stepped Alden Cael—her firstborn, her chosen heir, her final scalpel. Hair dark as cinders, cloak sweeping behind him like he thought it made him taller. He wore his confidence like armor, but not the kind forged in war.
The kind sharpened by entitlement.
"Mother," he said, grinning. "Heard you lost something."
Adriana didn't rise. "Come closer."
He strolled in, casually, like this was a social visit.
"Let me guess—our prodigal girls broke something again. The 'Ice Tyrant' and her sword-swinging lover." He laughed under his breath. "Still pretending they were just close, huh?"
Adriana's eyes narrowed. "Nerys has been taken from her cell. Solene is no longer dead inside. And the demon girl who aided them is still unaccounted for."
Alden's smile twitched wider. "Sounds like fun."
"This is not fun. This is failure."
"Then you should've let me handle her from the start," Alden said, plucking the goblet from the table without asking. "I would've cut the frost out of her before she ever learned how to speak."
Adriana stood now. Tall. Composed. Every inch of her cold presence wrapped tight around power.
"You will speak carefully," she said.
"Why?" He tilted his head. "You finally ready to let me off the leash?"
She studied him.
There was nothing behind his eyes. Not even ambition. Just hunger. For cruelty. For attention. For legacy.
But he was effective.
"You're going to find them," she said. "You will take your Bladelings. Quietly. Anyone who saw Solene after her return dies. Anyone who speaks Nerys's name in public disappears."
"And the demon?" he asked, rolling his shoulders lazily.
"Unharmed. For now."
He wrinkled his nose. "I hate her kind."
Adriana's tone sharpened. "Which is why you won't question her. I will."
Alden swirled the wine in his cup. "What if she resists?"
"Then keep her alive. Barely."
He grinned at that.
"Mother," he said after a pause, voice dropping low. "When I catch her—when I drag that little frost-doll back to you in chains... can I have her for a while?"
Adriana turned her gaze back to the map, hiding the flicker of disdain in her eyes.
"She was never yours to play with."
"Didn't stop her from crawling through the snow," Alden murmured. "Just like a dog."
Adriana clenched her jaw.
But she said nothing.
Because Alden would do what needed to be done.
And in the end, it didn't matter if her tools were noble—only that they were sharp.
Lira had kept quiet her whole life.
That was how you survived in House Cael.
You didn't speak out of turn. You didn't linger too long. You didn't care. You kept your head down, did your work, and prayed the wind never shifted your way.
But last night had changed something in her.
She had watched Nerys—beaten, bloodied—collapse into Solene's arms and smile. She had seen the demon, Seraphyne, carry a woman she didn't owe anything to across half the city for the sake of someone else's heart.
And Lira had felt it, sharp and sudden—
I don't want to lose this.
So when she slipped out that morning, claiming she was running errands for an older steward, she was just looking for scraps. Medicine, more food, anything to help. She moved like she always did: invisible.
Until she passed by the kitchens.
Two maids stood near the ovens, whispering in fast, fearful tones.
"You didn't hear this from me," one said, "but the Lady's shutting down the city. Quiet blockade. She's got the Bladelings out."
"Those freaks? I thought they only moved for war."
"They are. House war."
"Over what?"
"Some say the youngest Cael's alive. And the traitor daughter escaped. And there's a demon involved. Some Ice Witch. The Captain's already dead."
Lira froze.
Blood drained from her face.
Solene. Nerys. Seraphyne.
She didn't wait to hear more.
She turned and ran.
Through service tunnels, abandoned laundry halls, shadowed stairs she had learned by heart. Her lungs burned. Her braid slapped her back with every stride.
Not them, she thought. Don't let it happen to them.
Not after everything.
She burst through the servant quarters door, panting, pale, panic in her eyes.
Seraphyne was instantly on her feet, blade half-drawn, sensing something before a word left her mouth.
Nerys stirred from the bedding.
Solene turned from where she was sorting herbs into bowls.
Lira swallowed hard. "They're coming," she gasped. "Alden. The Bladelings. They shut the city down. They're hunting you. All of you."
The room went still.
Seraphyne sheathed her blade slowly.
Solene's eyes narrowed.
And Nerys sat up straighter, despite the pain.
The storm had found them again.
But this time, they would face it together.
"They're coming," Lira said again, voice trembling. "Alden. The Bladelings. They've locked the city. No one in, no one out."
The words dropped like a blade between them.
Solene stood still, one hand on the table. Her fingers flexed once, then stilled. Her eyes didn't move from Lira's.
"Did they say how long?" she asked, her voice quiet, but dangerous.
"No," Lira said, breath hitching. "Just that they're looking for the Ice Witch, the demon, and the traitor."
Nerys let out a sharp breath. "So… us."
Seraphyne didn't speak. She was already pacing, calculating exits. Her fingers twitched, shadow magic humming just beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
Solene finally moved. She stepped back from the table and crossed to Nerys, crouching beside her. "Can you run?"
Nerys clenched her jaw. "If I have to."
"You have to," Seraphyne said, already moving to the window. She peeked out through a thin crack in the wooden frame. "Guards are sweeping in sectors. They're slow, methodical. Trying not to cause panic. That buys us time."
Solene turned to Lira. "You've done more than enough. You can still walk away."
Lira looked insulted. "And go where? I burned this bridge the moment I helped you."
Seraphyne glanced back. "Then you follow instructions. You keep low. You don't hesitate."
Lira nodded fast.
Solene moved with new purpose. "We don't go through the streets. We'll be picked off before we make it two blocks."
"There's an aqueduct tunnel," Lira offered. "It runs under the outer district. Rats use it more than people do, but it connects to the east wall. The old exit. Sealed, but not magically."
Seraphyne grinned. "You've been holding out."
"I like to know where not to be murdered," Lira said simply.
Solene's voice dropped. "Then we move now. Alden's not the type to wait."
"Agreed," Seraphyne said. "He won't take prisoners if he gets his hands on us."
Nerys shifted, pushing herself up with Seraphyne's help. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear. "Then we make sure he never gets close."
Solene looked at all of them—at Nerys, bruised but defiant. At Seraphyne, crackling with shadow and strength. At Lira, frightened but still standing.
Her family.
"I'm not losing anyone," Solene said.
"Then lead," Nerys whispered. "We'll follow you anywhere."
And with that, they gathered their few supplies.
Wrapped themselves in cloaks and silence.
And vanished into the dark, just as House Cael's blades closed in from every side.