Adrian's fingers traced the Draven cipher's jagged symbols, its ink smudged from the cathedral's damp air. The workshop's dim lantern cast shadows on the walls, where he, Lira, and Toren huddled. The cipher hinted at a Draven safehouse in the city's underbelly—a lead to Lord Kael, who'd slipped through their fingers. Princess Eryn's orders to spy weighed heavy, but Adrian's need for justice burned hotter. The vault's parchment was with Elara, but Kael's freedom was a noose tightening around his neck.
Lira's scarf was loose, her eyes sharp with worry. "This cipher's trouble," she said, voice low. "If Kael's there, it's a trap."
"Everything's a trap," Adrian said, his shoulder still aching from Kael's blade. "We spring it, or we lose him." His copper disc, its disruption rune worn but functional, sat ready. His magic was weak, but his resolve was iron.
Toren leaned over the cipher, his guilt less raw but ever-present. "I know the district," he said. "Smuggler's row—tight alleys, easy to hide. We go tonight, before Eryn's guards tighten our leash."
Adrian nodded, though Toren's past betrayal gnawed at him. Lira's steady gaze was his anchor, but even she couldn't ease the dread in his gut. The Dravens knew he was Valorian, and every step drew their net closer.
They slipped out at midnight, cloaks blending with the city's fog. The underbelly was a maze of crumbling stone and flickering torches, the air thick with rot and whispers. Toren led them to a boarded-up warehouse, its door marked with a faint Draven sigil. Adrian's pulse raced—this was it.
He pressed his disc to the door, its rune humming to disable wards. The lock clicked, and they crept inside. The safehouse was a clutter of crates, maps pinned to walls, and a table strewn with coded letters. Adrian's heart leapt; this was a goldmine. He grabbed a letter, its script matching his cipher, and began decoding: Kael plans court coup. Strike at king's council.
"Got it," Adrian whispered, stuffing the letter into his cloak. But a creak froze him. Shadows moved—too many, too fast. "Ambush!"
Draven loyalists emerged, six of them, magic crackling in their hands. Kael wasn't here—just his trap. Adrian hurled his disc, its pulse dimming their spells, but the odds were grim. Lira kicked a crate, toppling it to block a mage. Toren drew a stolen dagger, slashing at another.
"Run!" Adrian yelled, but a loyalist's spell grazed his arm, searing flesh. He stumbled, rage fueling him. He tackled the mage, fist connecting with jaw, but a shout stopped him cold.
"Enough, Corveth!" Toren stood by the door, a loyalist's blade at his throat—but his eyes were calm, too calm. "I'm sorry," he said, and the truth hit like a hammer: Toren had sold them out. Again.
Lira's cry of "No!" echoed as loyalists grabbed her. Adrian lunged, but a spell slammed him to the ground, vision blurring. Toren's voice was a distant murmur: "They have my sister. I had no choice."
The loyalists bound them, dragging them to a hidden cellar. Adrian's mind raced, betrayal cutting deeper than any spell. The cellar was cold, lit by a single torch. A new figure stepped forward—not Kael, but Lady Draven herself, Cassian's mother, her eyes like venom.
"Valorian," she purred, holding Adrian's ciphered letter. "You're persistent. But this ends here."
Adrian's jaw clenched, blood dripping from his arm. "You framed my family. The king knows now."
Her laugh was ice. "The king's weak, and Elara's a fool. Your proof will burn, and so will you."
Lira struggled against her bonds, her glare fierce. "You won't win," she spat. "Adrian's smarter than you."
Lady Draven's smile didn't waver. "We'll see." She turned to Toren, who stood silent, head bowed. "Take them to the river. No traces."
As loyalists hauled them up, Adrian's eyes locked on Toren's. Guilt flickered there, but it wasn't enough. The safehouse had been a trap, and Toren its bait. Yet Adrian's mind churned—Lady Draven's confidence, the cipher, the coup. He had one play left.
In the chaos, he slipped his disc into Lira's sleeve, whispering, "Break it." Her nod was faint but firm. As they were dragged toward the river, Adrian's resolve hardened. The Dravens thought they'd broken him, but he'd survived worse. Toren's betrayal was a wound, but the truth was his weapon. He'd escape, expose the coup, and end Kael—or die with the Dravens' lies in flames.