The air still tasted of fire. Soren's lungs burned with every breath as the Inquisitors marched him back through the Cathedral's labyrinthine passages, their fingers digging into his arms with bruising force.
They no longer seemed concerned with ceremony or dignity, just removal, as if he were a dangerous artifact that needed containment.
Their faces had gone pale beneath their hoods, eyes darting to him and quickly away, as if afraid of what they might see.
The scripture-chains around his wrists felt heavier than before, the metal hot against his raw skin.
'What did it mean?' Soren wanted to ask, but Valenna remained unnervingly silent. The shard against his chest pulsed with its familiar cold, but her presence felt... different. Withdrawn.
Calculating. He sensed her unease like a cold current beneath still water.
