The feather lay across Kael's palm, cold and brittle, as if it had aged a hundred years overnight. The indigo light that had scorched the Echo Chamber was gone, snuffed out, leaving the etched rune along its spine dull, like a star that had burned out, leaving nothing but ash and memory.
And still, the needle in his neck pulsed. A slow, grinding throb, as if Silas himself were tightening the leash, reminding Kael with every beat that freedom was a lie.
Valen's face haunted him. Not the usual sneer or hatred. No, that was gone. What filled Valen's gaze now was worse — fear. Fear of Kael. Fear of what he had seen in that chamber.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound struck the door of Barracks Nine like a blacksmith's hammer on iron. Sharp. Final. There was no voice calling for entry. The door simply swung inward, and the cold dawn light spilled across the floor.
Two figures stood there. Assessor guards — black-clad, no helmets, faces carved from stone. Their armor drank in the light like the void itself.
"Thorn. The Spire. Now."
That was it. No explanation. No room for protest.
The Spire wasn't just tall — it was suffocation made solid. Obsidian, polished so smooth it seemed to drink in the world around it. A monument to power, and to those who would never have it.
Kael followed the guards in silence. The corridors coiled upward, swallowing sound. There were no rune-lights here — only witch-fire torches, their pale flames throwing jumpy shadows that made the walls seem to breathe. The higher they climbed, the thinner the air became. A coldness seeped in. It tasted of metal. Ozone. Blood. Or maybe memory — hard to tell.
At last, they stopped. Before them was a door with no seams, no handle. A single rune-circle glowed faintly. One guard pressed his palm to it. Crimson light flared. The door melted open.
The chamber inside was circular. No windows. No stone, either. Just polished black glass that reflected distorted fragments of Kael from every angle, as if even his image was untrustworthy here.
On a raised dais sat three figures. Hoods are blacker than night. Faces hidden in shadow so deep it hurt to look. The air vibrated, as if it could barely contain the weight of their presence.
The central Assessor spoke first. No distortion to their voice now. Just cold, human malice."You broke Valen Thorne."
Not a question. An accusation.
Kael kept his back straight. His voice didn't waver."The Echoes broke him."
"No." The right-hand Assessor leaned forward. Kael couldn't see their face, but the weight of their gaze sliced like knives."You used an unregistered relic. Again."
"I used what I had to survive."
Tap. Tap. Tap. The central Assessor's gloved fingers drummed on the armrest, slow and deliberate."Commander Rhys described the light. Indigo. The feather's resonance, yes?"
Kael's blood ran cold. They knew. They'd always known.
"Where is it?"
"Gone," Kael lied smoothly. "Shattered in the Echo Chamber."
The left Assessor made a soft sound — half chuckle, half sneer."Convenient."
"What matters," the central Assessor cut in, "is that you've proven two things. First: your Voidborne instability makes you a liability. Second: you're… resourceful. A dangerous mix."
The silence after those words stretched tight. The glass walls felt as if they were closing in, ready to swallow him.
"Valen Thorne's House demands restitution," the right Assessor hissed."His mind is fractured. His rune flickers."
"So you'll take his place," said the one in the center.
Kael blinked. "What?"
"Skyreach. The deep-Gate dive. The Iron Rune House paid dearly for their son's slot on that expedition. He can't go. You will."
Skyreach. His stomach turned to ice. No initiate survived Skyreach. Not even most Hunters came back.
"Why?"
The central Assessor stood. The shadow of their hood deepened."If the Gate eats you, the Thornes are satisfied. If you survive… We'll own the weapon that crawled back out."
"Refuse," the right Assessor added, voice like poison, "and Silas' needle will liquefy your spine. Slowly."
Choice had never been real. Not for Kael.
"When?"
"Dawn. Tomorrow."
A wave of their hand."Dismissed. Try not to die before you're useful."
Kael stumbled from the Spire like a man walking in a dream. The halls felt longer, darker. The feather's absence against his skin was a wound he couldn't see. He needed it. Just to know it was still there.
Barracks Nine was empty when he slipped inside. Relief washed over him for just a breath —
"Looking for this, Void Rat?"
Valen stood by Kael's bunk. His bandaged neck glared white in the gloom. And in his hand, the feather. Held like something filthy.
Its rune was dark now. Dead.
Valen's smile was jagged, fevered. His eyes are too bright."Shattered? Looks intact to me."
He snapped it in two.
The sound was small — but to Kael, it might as well have been thunder."No!"
Kael lunged.
Valen laughed, harsh and broken. He dropped the pieces on the floor and ground them under his heel."You took my place in Skyreach? Good. I hope they record your screaming when the Gate tears you apart. But first, I'll make sure you go in broken."
He raised his hand. His golden rune flared — unstable, spitting sparks, but still bright enough.
The pain started slowly. A molten wire of fire down Kael's spine. The needle's burn built, climbed, consumed. He crashed to his knees. The world blurred at the edges.
Valen loomed, breath ragged."Silas sends his regards."
Kael's hand scrabbled for purchase. His fingers closed on the shattered feather.
And the world changed.
Not darkness. Not pain.
A vision.
The Spire's top chamber. The three Assessors, hoods thrown back — but no faces. Only swirling vortexes of violet light where eyes should be. And beside them, unhooded — Silas. His smile was all knives. In his hand, a shard of indigo crystal, like a twin to the one from the Echo Chamber. He drove it into a map of New Avalon. Gates flared across the city — like wounds splitting open.
"The Void doesn't lie, Kael," Silas whispered. His lips didn't move. "It hungers."
The vision snapped.
Kael lay gasping on the floor. Valen was gone. The feather lay crushed beneath the ash, its broken spine pulsing one last time with dying indigo light.
The truth was worse than he'd imagined.
The Assessors weren't using Silas.
They were him.
And Skyreach wasn't an execution.
It was a sacrifice.
END OF CHAPTER 7.