Ten Inquisition agents surged into the chamber, their white robes pristine, faces emotionless and cold. Their heavy boots and weapons made the floorboards groan in protest.
Elena froze.
The agent at the center, a man with sharp brows and an icy voice, stepped forward. He held a sealed letter, cracking the wax as he began to read.
"Elena Rosario, you are charged with treason against the Holy Church, the confirmed magical murder of four Inquisition agents, and the sin of childbearing out of wedlock. You are to be taken into custody and escorted to the cathedral dungeons in Puerto Cuidad to await tribunal.
May the Saintess have mercy on your soul."
"No!" Aurora roared, stepping between them. Her dagger flashed in the firelight. "You will not take her!"
Two agents rushed her, savagely pushing her aside. Her head struck the iron fireplace grate with a sickening crack. She crumpled to the floor, dazed, blood trickling down her temple.
Elena screamed, reaching for her, but strong hands seized her arms.
"No—please—wait!" she cried, panic rising like bile. Her hands instinctively moved to protect her stomach.
But they didn't care.
They dragged her.
Through the hallway.
Down the grand staircase.
Past the portraits and chandeliers she once walked under with pride.
Cheri and a bloodied Aurora stumbled after them, yelling, sobbing, begging. "She's with child!" Cheri cried. "Have you no heart?!" But the agents moved like machines—remorseless, unyielding.
Elena was shoved into a windowless, steel carriage, the door slammed shut behind her with a final, echoing bang. The agents did not look back as they mounted their mana-powered steeds.
Left behind, Cheri collapsed against the front steps, screaming for her mistress.
Aurora limped forward and slammed her fist against the estate door, voice hoarse. "We must get Seamus. Now. There's no telling what they'll do if he doesn't get to her in time!"
Cheri, soaked in tears, nodded and bolted toward the garage without a second thought.
Aurora sank onto a chair in the foyer, her body shaking.
Inside the carriage, Elena crumbled.
She curled in on herself, wrapping both arms around her belly, her fingers trembling.
Her face streaked with tears, her body shaking, her soul aching.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered to her unborn child. "I love you so much. I'm so, so sorry."
Thunder cracked in the distance.
And somewhere, high above the storm-tossed sea, lightning answered.