The thing that climbed from the hatch smelled of coal and old iron and something like wet ash. It moved with a slow dignity that made every man near it seem suddenly young. Its crown of ash sat crooked on its head. Its eyes were two dark coals that burned without flame. When it stepped into the light the metal ring around its throat sang a note that made the hair on Darian’s arms lift.Isolde did not flinch. She reached for Darian and gripped his hand as if she wanted to anchor him to the world. The old binder at the Forge touched his brass hand to the machine and muttered words that were almost prayer. Captain Merek stayed where he was and swallowed like a man tasting regret. Lyra crouched low and held the scrap of cloth to her chest as if it were the only proof the world had given her that this moment was real.The shape looked older than any living thing and younger than any memory. Plates of iron formed its shoulders and ribs. Where a face might have been there was hammered silver

The Forge shook like a throat clearing. Names kept falling from the Spire and the air filled with them, heavy and human. Men at the doorway went still as if some weight had pressed their ribs. Torches guttered. The regent’s face lost color until it matched the dust on his robe.Lyra’s breath came hard. Her hands curled around the scrap of names until the paper creased. The iron ring at Darian’s feet sang softly and the locket at his chest beat like a small drum. The keeper watched with coal eyes that did not blink. The shard in the old binder’s box hummed like something waking after a long sleep."Now prove it," the regent snarled, voice trying to shape fury into law. "Show the city these lies and we will see whose memory is true."Darian felt the Forge press at the outside of his skin. The binding was not some thing on his wrist. It lived in his blood and carried the weight of every name he had promised to return. He could feel the Spire reaching through the chain of light the Forge

Water closed over the masked face and the bridge lurched as if the world had lost its balance. Darian felt the tug of the current like a hand on his sleeve. He reached and his fingers scraped the silver. For a breath the mask floated, teetered, and then a pale hand shot up from beneath and snatched the edge.Something hauled itself out of the water with the weight of a storm. Cloak torn, hair plastered in wet dark, the figure rolled on the planks coughing river and mud. The mask came free and clattered at Darian’s feet. The hood fell back and the face beneath it blinked at him with eyes that were all sharp angles and old hurt.Darian did not know the face. He thought he did and then the thought unraveled. There was a scar along the jaw that cut like a remembered name. The mouth shaped something like a sorry and then like a threat. The figure spat river and pushed up on shaking arms.Around them men surged, some to drag the stranger from the bridge, some to seize Darian and the locket

The channel closed around them like a throat. Stone walls rose on either side, slick with green and white where the river had licked them for years. The skiff rode the current like a small animal in a narrow tunnel. Soren bent to the oars with the quiet fury of a man who had chosen this life and accepted its price. The oars bit water and the spray smelled of iron and old leaves.Darian sat with the mask wrapped against his chest and the locket a hot coin under cloth. The binding hummed low, a sound he felt in his teeth as much as he heard it. The names in his pocket shifted like coins nudged by a finger. He had bound himself to memory and now every stroke of the oar sounded like a clock marking the hours left.Lyra watched the dark with eyes that did not sleep. Her fingers were stained with herbs and with Merek s blood. She kept checking the captain bundled behind them and bunched her shawl over his shoulders like a ward against the cold. Isolde rode like a shadow at Darian s elbow, t

The man at the bench smiled like a razor. His cloak had been stripped to a rag and the light from the hearth painted his face with a sick gold. Varrow. The name tasted like metal in Darian's mouth. The sigil on his cuff burned with a small, cruel pride. He set the device down with careful hands as if laying a child into a cradle."You should not have come for this," Varrow said. His voice was soft and even. It did not need to shout to command the room. "Some truths get people killed."Garric's shoulders hunched. He gripped the anvil edge and did not speak. Kade stepped forward, knife ready but his hands did not tremble. Soren reached for a hammer and then thought better of it. The men in the doorway had not come to bargain. They came to collect."Give it," Varrow said to Darian. He angled his head as if he offered an invitation rather than a demand.Darian felt the binding like a rope at his ribs. The locket under his tunic thrummed and the mask in his hands weighed like a verdict. He