They came at dawn, six hooded figures gliding through the door of his cell. The chains around Soren's wrists clinked as he struggled to his feet, muscles screaming from hours spent on cold stone.
"Time for judgment," one of them whispered, voice scraping like metal on stone.
Soren looked across the narrow corridor where Veyr had been held, but the cell stood empty. No sign remained of the Velrane heir, not even the imprint where he had sat so composed despite his chains. The realization sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the damp air.
"Where's Lord Velrane?" he managed, throat raw from thirst.
The Inquisitor's face remained hidden within his deep hood. "The noble witness is being escorted separately. Your paths diverge now."
They marched him through corridors that twisted ever downward, descending deeper beneath the Cathedral than he had thought possible.
