Chapter 29. The Discipline Chamber

Volamed liked to keep its sharpest rooms out of sight. It rented shade like other cities rented tenements—folded it into alleys, tucked it under eaves, let only certain feet find the entrances. The Discipline Chamber was one of those hidden things: a throat of iron behind an ordinary façade, a stair that took you so far down you could feel the sky change its weight.

Rael led Lora there in the afternoon when the two moons were neither too close nor polite. The city had settled into a watchful patience; the noon chord had come and knelt at her collarbone and then passed like tide. She had eaten again, and the envoys from Elysor had not yet found a new way to be insulting. For now—this breath—things leaned manageable.

The stair smelled of stone, old metal, and a faint tang of something like citrus and rust. As they descended, the world tightened until sound became a series of considerate knocks. The chamber opened into a space that felt more like a hollowed animal than a ro