The mill smelled like old water and regret.
Rot, iron, damp grain that had long ago given up pretending it was useful. The boards under my boots sagged as I stepped inside, every creak loud in the hollow space. Sunlight filtered through broken slats in the walls, cutting the interior into pale stripes and shadow.
Someone was inside already.
I could tell by the way the air felt—compressed, held. Like a room where everyone had stopped breathing at once.
Seraphina didn't reach for me this time. She didn't need to. Her presence at my side was enough—cold and steady, frost restrained to a whisper along the hem of her cloak. Lyra was nowhere in sight, which meant she was everywhere that mattered.
I took another step.
"Come out," I said, voice carrying easily in the open space. "We both know you didn't bring me here to admire the architecture."
Silence answered.
Then slow applause echoed from the upper level.
A man stepped into view along the warped railing above us. Not a priest's robes. Not a Guild healer's white. Plain traveling clothes, well-made, deliberately unremarkable. His face was forgettable by design—medium features, careful grooming, eyes that smiled without ever reaching warmth.
He leaned his forearms on the railing like this was a casual meeting.
"You're prompt," he said.
"You kidnapped a girl," I replied. "That tends to motivate me."
He sighed theatrically. "Language. She's being held. Unharmed. For now."
Seraphina's frost flared, sharp enough that the air crackled.
The man noticed. His smile thinned. "Ah. Lady Valdris. Of course you came. Visibility works both ways."
"Say where she is," Seraphina said, voice glacial. "Now."
"In time," he replied mildly. "But first—introductions. You may call me Kess."
"I won't," I said.
His eyes flicked to me. "You're less diplomatic than I expected."
"I'm not here to negotiate," I said. "I'm here to stop you."
Kess chuckled. "Bold. And naïve." He gestured around the mill. "You came anyway. That means you're willing to talk."
"No," I said. "It means I'm willing to listen long enough to know which bones to break."
Seraphina shot me a look. I didn't soften it.
Kess studied me for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Very well. Let's be efficient."
He leaned forward. "You've become inconvenient, Theo Ashford. Not because of what you do—but because of what people see when you do it."
I didn't respond.
"You return choice," he continued. "Autonomy. That's disruptive. Institutions survive by controlling how help is given. Who deserves it. Who pays for it." He spread his hands. "You've made that messy."
"Good," I said.
"That's why we moved sideways," he said, unfazed. "Away from your clinic. Away from your wards. Toward people who can't walk into your light on their own."
My jaw tightened.
"You used a dying woman," I said. "And a terrified boy."
"Yes," he replied simply. "Because you came."
Seraphina stepped forward. The frost in the room deepened, creeping across the warped boards like veins of ice.
"You will release the girl," she said. "Now."
Kess looked down at her, assessing. "House Valdris is powerful. But not omnipotent. And this—" he gestured vaguely between us, "—is not a noble matter. It's structural."
He turned his attention back to me.
"You could end this," he said. "Today. Quietly."
I laughed once. "There it is."
He smiled. "You step back. Reduce visibility. Accept oversight. We release the girl. The woman gets treatment—proper treatment—somewhere discreet. Everyone wins."
"No," I said.
The word landed heavy.
Kess's smile faded a fraction. "Consider carefully."
I took a slow breath, letting the warmth stir—not flaring, not reaching. Just present.
"You don't understand what you've done," I said.
"Oh?" he replied.
"You didn't bring me here to control me," I continued. "You brought me here to measure me."
His eyes sharpened.
"And now you have," I said. "So listen carefully."
I stepped forward, boots crunching softly over old grain.
"You think this is a negotiation because you still believe leverage works the same way on everyone," I said. "You think pain and fear are universal currencies."
"They are," he said flatly.
"Not to me," I replied.
The warmth rose—not into him, not into the space—but into me. Settling into my chest, my spine. Grounding.
"You took a girl because you assumed I'd choose the fastest solution," I said. "That I'd trade principle for relief."
Seraphina glanced at me sharply.
"You're wrong," I continued. "I don't trade."
Kess straightened slowly. "Then you're condemning her."
"No," I said. "You are."
The mill creaked as Lyra chose that moment to reveal herself—dropping lightly from the upper level behind Kess, boots barely making a sound as she landed on the railing.
"Hi," she said brightly. "You left your back open."
Kess spun.
Too late.
She tapped two fingers against the side of his neck, tracing a quick sigil that burned pink, then vanished.
He staggered back, clutching at the railing. "What did you—"
"Marked you," Lyra said cheerfully. "Not a curse. Just a beacon. Anyone with half a sense for magic can feel it now."
His eyes went wide.
I felt it too—the sudden spike of attention, the ripple spreading outward like a stone dropped into water.
Seraphina smiled, slow and dangerous. "Visibility," she said.
Kess's composure cracked fully then. "You idiot. Do you know who you just—"
"—told on?" Lyra finished. "Yes."
I stepped closer, meeting his gaze.
"You wanted to move this out of sight," I said. "So I brought the light with me."
The mill door creaked open behind us.
Isolde stepped inside, sword drawn—not raised, just present. Her eyes flicked to Kess, then to me.
"Signal confirmed," she said. "We tracked the beacon. Additional units are en route."
Kess's face went gray.
"This wasn't supposed to be public," he hissed.
"That's the problem," I replied. "It always is."
He backed away from the railing, hands raised. "Wait. We can still—"
"Where is the girl?" Seraphina snapped.
He swallowed hard. "East cellar. Under the mill. Two guards."
Isolde moved immediately.
"Lyra," I said.
She was already moving, slipping past Isolde toward the trapdoor hidden beneath a pile of broken boards.
I turned back to Kess.
"You should know something," I said quietly. "You didn't bring me here because I'm predictable."
He looked up at me, eyes desperate now.
"You brought me because you're running out of people who don't see through you," I continued. "And that terrifies you."
He said nothing.
I placed my hand on his wrist.
The warmth flowed—just enough to make him feel it. Not healing. Not pleasure.
Presence.
"Tell whoever sent you," I said, voice low and steady, "that this doesn't end with me retreating."
I leaned closer.
"It ends with them running out of places to hide."
Lyra's voice echoed up from below. "Got her!"
Relief punched through my chest so hard it almost hurt.
Isolde exhaled sharply. Seraphina closed her eyes for a brief second, frost retreating.
I released Kess's wrist.
The warmth withdrew.
He sagged against the railing, shaking.
Outside, boots thundered closer—academy guards, House Valdris retainers, people who didn't like shadows anymore.
The trap had been shaped for silence.
I'd broken it by refusing to fit.
And now, in the full light of morning, it was collapsing under its own design.