Chapter 58 No Longer Sera Bale
Serafina
The horn did not stop.
It blared again and again, echoing through the crooked streets of Dust like a warning bell from the end of the world.
I folded the parchment quickly and shoved it into my bag.
Beside me, Azerath moved toward the nearest factory window and motioned for me to follow. The glass was cracked and fogged with grime, but through it we could see inside.
The two Imperial Enforcers we had seen earlier were no longer alone. Three more had joined them.
They looked half-awake, armor hanging loose around their shoulders as they shook the sleep from their eyes. Their helms rested in their hands, and one of them was still adjusting the straps of his chestplate.
Beyond the factory walls, movement stirred across the district.
People were stepping out of their homes.
Doors creaked open. Lanterns flickered to life. Shadows moved through the narrow streets as frightened residents began drifting toward the front gates of Dust.
The horn had woken everyone.
Azerath studied the scene in silence. His gaze moved across the factory floor, measuring distances, counting enemies, weighing risks. Then he spoke.
“We need to make a decision.”
I turned toward him, urging him to continue.
“We leave,” he said quietly, “or we help.”
My chest tightened. The image of the small girl flashed through my mind—her thin arms wrapped around herself, her wide, pleading eyes.
Please save my brother.
“We have to help them,” I said immediately.
Azerath looked at me, already preparing to argue, but I didn’t let him.
“You said it yourself,” I pressed. “We owe the little girl.”
For a moment he said nothing. Then he nodded once. His hand lifted, pointing toward the side of the factory.
“There,” he said.
I followed his gaze. A large section of the outer wall had collapsed long ago, leaving a jagged opening near the ground—barely large enough for a person to crawl through. Broken bricks framed the gap like teeth.
“If we do this,” Azerath said, “we have to be quick.”
His voice had changed. It carried the quiet focus of someone preparing for battle.
“There are four cages inside. The doors are locked with chains. We cut them with our swords.” He glanced back through the window toward the guards. “But first we deal with the Enforcers.”
“How?” I asked.
“We either knock them unconscious,” he said calmly, “or draw them out.”
“I’ll draw them out.” The words left my mouth before I could reconsider them.
Azerath turned toward me sharply. “No. If they capture you—”
“But I’m the one they’re looking for,” I argued. “If they see me, they’ll chase me. That gives you time to free the boys.”
“No.” This time his voice was firm and final. “There is no world where I allow that.”
My jaw tightened. “Azerath—”
“I will draw them out,” he said again, leaving no space for protest. His gaze locked onto mine. “You break the chains. When the cage doors open, move the boys to the hole.” He gestured toward the broken wall. “Get them out through there.”
“And you?” I asked.
A faint smile touched his lips. “I will keep them busy.”
Before I could protest again, he vanished. One moment he stood beside me. The next—he was gone.
My heart raced, but I forced myself to focus. There was no time to second-guess myself.
I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled toward the hole in the factory wall. The bricks scraped against my cloak as I squeezed through the gap.
Inside, the air smelled of rust and damp iron. The factory was dim, lit only by a few torches burning along the walls.
I stayed low and moved behind stacks of broken crates and old barrels.
Then I saw them. The cages.
Four of them stood near the center of the factory floor. Thick iron bars enclosed each one, their doors bound with heavy chains.
Inside were boys—thin, frightened, wrapped in torn clothes. Some looked far too small for their age, their faces hollow from hunger.
They sat in silence, staring at the ground. Waiting quietly for their fate.
The factory doors burst open with a loud crash that echoed through the building. The boys inside the cages jumped at the sound.
I pressed myself deeper behind the crates, staying as still as possible. I could not risk revealing where I was hiding.
A figure stepped into the doorway.
Azerath.
His hood was pulled low, hiding most of his face in shadow. The sword in his hand burned with bright fire, lighting the factory floor and the cages nearby.
“Free the children,” he said calmly. His voice carried through the factory. “And I will allow you to leave with your lives.”
The Enforcers stared at him. Then they burst into laughter.
One of them slipped his helm onto his head, unbothered. “Look at this prankster,” he said.
Another spun his spear lazily in his hand. “How about you surrender,” the man sneered, “and we won’t kill you.”
Azerath did not react.
Azerath simply raised his sword and motioned for them to come forward. “Someone is going to die tonight,” he said quietly. “And it isn’t me.”
The Enforcers stepped into formation. Their spears struck the floor at the same time with a heavy thud.
Then the air exploded with light.
Balls of silver electricity shot from the tips of their weapons and streaked across the factory toward Azerath.
But his sword moved faster.
The flaming blade moved through the air again and again. Each sphere struck the sword, changed direction, and flew back toward the Enforcers. The attacks hit them directly, throwing them off their feet. They crashed into nearby crates and the factory walls, groaning as they fell.
My chance.
I darted from my hiding place.
My sword came free from its sheath as I reached the first cage. The blade struck the chain locking the door. The metal split and fell away.
I moved to the next cage. Then the next. One chain after another snapped beneath the blade.
Within seconds all four cages were free.
“Out,” I whispered urgently. “Through the hole in the wall.”
The boys stared at me in shock. Then understanding spread across their faces.
They pushed the cage doors open and ran.
Some followed my instructions and crawled through the opening in the wall. One by one they disappeared into the darkness outside.
Others, though, ran straight toward the open factory doors. The Enforcers were still on the floor, groaning and trying to stand. And freedom was only a few steps away.
Then the boys near the doorway suddenly stopped. They stumbled backward in fear.
I quickly ducked behind the crates again and looked toward the entrance.
My stomach dropped.
Warden Elara Voss stood in the doorway. Her hands were clasped calmly in front of her. Her long black coat shifted slightly in the night wind.
Behind her stood several Collectors.
All of them were watching the room in silence.
Azerath slowly turned to face her.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” the Warden said softly, a cruel smile forming on her lips.
Her eyes moved slowly across the factory before settling on Azerath.
“What is your name, rebel?” she asked. Then her gaze shifted briefly toward the open cages. “Do you understand that interfering with Imperial operations is punishable by death?”
Azerath laughed. The sound bounced off the factory walls.
“I am not a rebel,” he said, then his voice hardened. “But I do agree with you, Warden. Such inhumane acts should warrant death.” His sword lifted slightly. “Caging children. Selling them as slaves.” He tilted his head. “What has this world become?”
The Warden raised her hand. Her fingers curled slowly into a fist.
I felt the magic ripple through the air—choking magic, heavy and sharp.
But Azerath didn’t move. He stood firm, unshaken, as if the magic striking him was nothing more than a passing wind.
The Warden’s eyes widened in shock. “You… do not choke?” she said. “How is that possible?”
Azerath scoffed. “Your magic is weak, Warden.” He touched his neck casually. “I only feel a warm trickle. Like a scratch.”
Behind him, the Enforcers began to rise. I couldn’t let them rejoin the fight. Heat surged through my fingers. The ember inside me awakened. Golden light gathered in my palms.
Lumenflare.
The first sphere shot across the room and struck an Enforcer square in the chest. He dropped instantly.
The second followed, then the third, fourth, and fifth. Each Enforcer fell to the ground immediately, the sound of their bodies hitting the floor echoing through the factory.
The Warden pointed at me. “You and your companion will die for this, rebel scum. Seize—”
She never finished the sentence.
A blur of black pounced from the darkness.
Blink. Now a massive wolf again.
She slammed into the Warden with bone-crushing force. Her jaws clamped around her arm.
The Warden screamed. Electric bolts shot from her free hand, but Blink twisted and avoided them with ease. Then, without warning, she released the Warden’s arm and clamped her jaws down on the Warden’s face.
Azerath moved behind them. His sword flashed, slicing through the Collectors’ enchanted black coats. They collapsed to the ground, stunned and wounded.
“Let’s go,” Azerath called.
I burst from behind the crates, hood shadowing my face, and sprinted toward Azerath. He was crouched low over Darrick, who lay sprawled on the filthy ground, one hand clamped desperately over his bleeding arm. Darrick’s face was pale, sweat beading on his brow. Azerath leaned in close, his eyes fixed on the wound with unnerving intensity.
“The next time I see you,” he said quietly, “I will burn you alive. Do you understand, Darrick?"
Darrick’s eyes widened, his body trembling. He nodded quickly, a whimper escaping his throat.
“Blink, enough,” Azerath said. “Leave the Warden.”
The wolf quickly released her and stepped back. We turned to leave.
But behind us, the Warden rose slowly. Blood streaked her face. Her eyes burned with fury.
“Sera,” she called out.
I froze.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
I did not answer.
“If you leave this place tonight,” she hissed, “I will make sure you never see your dear brother again.”
Something inside me snapped. The ember ignited. Golden light formed in my palm.
The Lumenflare shot forward. It struck her square in the chest. Her black coat burned at the impact. She stumbled backward and hit the floor.
I walked toward her and pressed my boot against her throat. She struggled beneath me, rage twisting her face.
“You no longer get to threaten my family,” I said quietly.
Her eyes widened. She mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that, Warden?" I leaned closer. "I can't hear you." I lifted my boot slightly, allowing her to speak.
"Sera Bale—"
I pressed down on her throat again. "Let's get one thing straight, Warden Voss."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
“The name is Serafina Valen.”