Chapter 50. The Mill of Echoes

They reached the loading bay. A sliver of light spilled through the cracked doors, fractured and twitching. Inside, movement—blurred shapes, muffled voices.

Riven pressed her back to the rusted metal, throat tight. Axel leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. “Three, maybe four down here. More upstairs.”

She nodded once.

They slipped through the gap.

The air inside was thick with oil and rot. Rusted machines loomed like broken bones. The floor groaned under their boots. Dust caught the moonlight like ash, floating in slow spirals.

Then she saw her.

Tied to a chair under a blown-out skylight, face bruised, hair matted. Riven’s stomach twisted.

Her friend.

Two Ravens flanked her—one lounging on a crate with a knife, the other flicking a lighter on and off, the tiny flame catching in his eyes like hunger.

Riven reached for her pipe. Her hand shook.

Axel’s hand brushed hers—steadying, grounding.

Her breath hitched.