Zara's POV
The prison cart hits every rock in the road on purpose. Each bump slams my head against the metal bars. My wrists bleed where the chains cut into skin. I don't care.
All I see is Davos kissing Isla. Over and over in my mind. His hand in her hair. Her smile. That ring on her finger.
Eight years. Eight years of trusting him. Of loving him. Of believing we were building something real.
All a lie.
"Comfortable back there?" The guard driving the cart laughs. "Better enjoy the ride. It's the last one you'll ever take."
I press my face against the bars and watch the city pass by. The Grand Auction district with its golden towers gives way to the Dust Markets where normal people trade and work. Then even those buildings fade into the Ashwastes where I grew up.
My home. Crumbling buildings and dirt streets. Children with hollow eyes begging for coins. Old women selling half-rotten fruit. This is where people like me belong, according to the rich folks. This is where we're supposed to stay forever.
The cart stops at the Scorched Cells—the prison where they keep people before executing them. The building is black stone that always feels hot, even at night. They say it's built on top of an old fire temple. They say the walls are soaked in the blood of everyone who died here.
Looking at it now, I believe it.
Guards drag me out of the cart. My legs buckle but they don't care. They pull me through iron doors into a hallway that smells like death and despair.
"Cell Seventeen," the captain orders. "And bring the other one."
Other one? My heart stops. Lyra.
They throw me into a cell barely big enough to stand in. The floor is covered in old straw that stinks. There's no window. Just bars and darkness and the sound of other prisoners crying.
"Zara?" A small voice comes from the cell next to mine.
"Lyra!" I press my face against the bars, trying to see her. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm scared." Her voice shakes. She's only thirteen. She shouldn't be here. "They came to Grandmother's house and said I helped you steal things. But I didn't! I swear I didn't!"
"I know, baby. I know." Tears burn my eyes but I force them back. I can't cry. Not now. Lyra needs me to be strong. "Listen to me. This is a mistake. I'm going to fix it."
"How?" She starts sobbing. "They said we're going to die in three days. They said—they said they're going to burn us in front of everyone."
My hands grip the bars so hard my knuckles turn white. Burn us. Public execution by fire. That's what they do to traitors.
"That's not going to happen," I tell her. But even I can hear the lie in my voice.
Footsteps echo down the hallway. I look up and see him. Davos. Walking toward my cell like he owns the place. Because now he does. He's the Magistrate's Chief of Security. He probably has keys to every door in this prison.
"Hello, Zara." He stops in front of my cell, hands in his pockets, casual as anything.
I want to scream. I want to reach through these bars and claw his eyes out. Instead, I just stare at him. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you do this?" My voice cracks. "Was any of it real? Did you ever actually love me?"
He tilts his head, thinking. "In the beginning? Maybe. You were useful. Good at your job. But love?" He laughs. "Come on, Zara. Look at you. Look at where you come from. Did you really think someone like me would stay with someone like you forever?"
Each word is a knife in my chest.
"I have ambitions," he continues. "Real ambitions. Not stealing scraps from rich people. I want power. Respect. A seat at the Magistrate's table. And Isla—" His smile widens. "Isla comes from nobility. Fallen nobility, sure, but still. She has connections. A future. You have nothing."
"I loved you." The words fall out before I can stop them.
"I know." He doesn't even sound sorry. "That's what made you so easy to use."
I lunge at the bars but the chains hold me back. "I'll kill you! I swear to every god that exists, I will—"
"You'll be dead in three days." He turns to leave. "But don't worry. I'll make sure your execution is quick. Well, quickish. The Magistrate likes to put on a show."
"Wait!" I grab the bars. "Let Lyra go. Please. She's a child. She didn't do anything."
"She's leverage." He keeps walking. "Insurance to make sure you behave until execution day. If you try to escape, she dies first. If you cause trouble, she dies first. Understand?"
"Davos, please—"
The door slams shut behind him.
I sink to the floor, my whole body shaking. This can't be happening. This can't be real.
"Zara?" Lyra whispers from the next cell. "What do we do?"
I don't have an answer. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do.
Hours pass. Or maybe days. Time feels wrong in the darkness. Other prisoners talk sometimes. An old man three cells down says he's been here for two years waiting for trial. A woman across from me weeps constantly. Someone else just screams and screams until the guards come beat them quiet.
This is where I'm going to die. In this hole that smells like death. And Lyra will die here too. Because of me. Because I trusted the wrong person. Because I believed in love and futures and stupid dreams.
The door opens again. Different footsteps this time. Lighter. A woman.
Isla appears in front of my cell. She's changed out of her fancy dress into something simpler, but she still looks beautiful. Perfect. Everything I'm not.
"Hello, Zara." She studies her nails like she's bored.
"Come to gloat?" I don't bother standing up.
"Come to explain." She kneels down so we're eye level through the bars. "You never understood, did you? How hard it was being your friend."
"What?"
"You were always so brave. So confident. You never cared what people thought. You'd walk through the Ashwastes with your head up like you owned the place." Her voice turns bitter. "Meanwhile, I came from a noble house that lost everything. Do you know what that's like? Knowing you used to have everything and now you're nothing?"
"So you betrayed me? Your best friend?"
"You were never going to be more than a thief, Zara. But me? I have a chance at getting my old life back. Davos promised me a place in society again. A real future. All I had to do was help him trap you."
"You planted the Phoenix Tear in my room."
She smiles. "Three days ago. While you were out planning the heist. I had a key to your place, remember? You trusted me with everything."
The betrayal cuts deeper than I thought possible. "I would have died for you."
"I know." She stands up. "That's why this was so easy."
She turns to leave but stops at the door. "Oh, one more thing. That blood test the Magistrate's healers ran on you? The one they do on all prisoners?" Her smile turns cruel. "It showed something interesting. You have spirit-blessed blood, Zara. Do you know what that means?"
I shake my head.
"It means you're worth a fortune. Living people with spirit-blessed bloodlines can be sold to the Magistrate's research facilities. They use you to make magical weapons. Drain you slowly over years." She laughs. "Davos is negotiating your sale right now. After the public execution, of course. They'll pretend you're dead, then sell you to the highest bidder. You'll wish they actually burned you."
The world tilts sideways.
"Sweet dreams, best friend." Isla blows me a kiss and disappears.
I sit in the darkness, trying to process what she just said. Spirit-blessed blood. Magical weapons. They're going to fake my execution and sell me into torture.
And then, from somewhere deep in the prison, I hear it.
Screaming. Not human screaming. Something else. Something ancient and furious.
The walls start to shake. Heat floods through the cell—not normal heat, but magic heat that makes my bones ache.
Other prisoners start yelling. "What's happening?" "Is it an earthquake?" "The walls are burning!"
The guard captain runs past my cell, his face white with terror. "The seal!" he screams. "Someone broke the seal beneath the prison!"
And then I remember the old stories. The legends about what lies buried under the Scorched Cells.
The fire temple. Where they imprisoned an ancient spirit three hundred years ago.
The walls crack. Fire seeps through the stone.
And a voice—deep and terrible and full of rage—echoes through every cell:
"WHO DARES DISTURB MY PRISON?"