Where light forgets mercy, and the caged remember their names…

The clatter of metal on stone pulled her back. The scent of warm bread and hot stew filled her nose.

How many days had passed? When had she last eaten?

There was no cutlery. She tore through the bread like a beast, ravenous, devouring prey. She drank the stew as though it were the elixir of life. It scorched her throat. She didn’t care.

A figure sat close, but not too close. A gentle smile played on his face—tinged with sorrow.

“Oh, child,” he said softly, “how I grieve to see you like this. Please understand, it is for the good of Annex that you remain here. The guards can be… cruel. But I will do what I can to see you kept well.”

A single golden eye, exposed through the shift in her blindfold, locked onto him. It pierced through him. He shivered.

“K-Katarina, wasn’t it? A beautiful name. Who gave it to you—was it your mother?”

Mother.

The word ignited her. Golden light threaded through her veins, visible beneath her skin. The air began to hum.

He froze.

Her vision had cleared. She saw him for what he was—a man of the faith. A golden medallion hung from his neck, resting on embroidered robes: the Church of the True Saint. Righteousness and liberation were their creed, but she knew better. In their name, they razed towns and forced their dogma onto the unwilling.

But history didn’t matter now. She calmed herself and resumed her meal.

“Y-yes, well,” he stammered, rising, “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anythi— oh. Of course. I’ll check on you when I can.”

Time blurred. Light came and went. She ate. She starved. She was questioned. She was beaten. She healed. Then it happened again.

Read the full tale and uncover the lightforged’s battle in the Scriptorium →

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