The stairwell inside the tower spiraled around a shaft of white light.
Mara and Elias climbed while Sera and Arden led the villagers toward the lower shelters.
Caedran followed them alone.
At the top, the light opened into a chamber of crystal and gold.
A great lens hung in the air above a stone basin.
Lines of energy streamed into it from every home in Lowmere.
Beyond the chamber’s windows, the storm pressed against the barrier.
Mara reached toward the lens.
The memories inside it touched her.
She saw the farmer holding two little girls on his knees.
She saw Nella and Tamsin laughing over a burned pie.
She saw the boy’s first steps.
The engine had stolen more than strength.
It had taken the bright, ordinary moments people used to know they belonged to one another.
“Don’t touch it,” Caedran said.
He entered the chamber and sealed the door behind him.
“The lens is all that keeps the storm back.”
“Then why is it taking people’s memories?” Elias asked.
“Because the storm takes everything. The Crown chooses what to spend.”
“You decided that for them,” Mara said.
“Someone had to.”
Caedran removed his helm.
He was older than Sera, with silver hair and a face worn by years of decisions he had chosen to call necessary.
“The first barrier was built by volunteers,” he said.
“They gave their magic freely. It held for a generation. Then the storm grew. The villages gave more. When the gifts were not enough, the Crown took what was needed. I have watched cities vanish beneath that storm. I have watched children become ash because a council wanted to debate consent.”
“And you were there when the first villages gave?” Mara asked.
“I was a young officer. I stood beside the king when the first barrier was raised. I watched a child place both hands against the stone and offer her gift. She was proud. She believed she was saving everyone.”
“Did she know it would take her memories?”
Caedran did not answer at once.
“No.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“Then it wasn’t a gift.”
“It was the choice available to us.”
“So you stopped asking,” Mara said.
“I chose the living.”
“You chose the capital,” Elias answered.
“The people outside the walls paid.”
“The capital holds the only people who can maintain the engine. Its fall ends the realm.”
Mara studied the lens.
“You keep saying the engine needs them. Maybe you never tried to make it work another way.”
Caedran’s expression hardened.
“I have tried every way.”
Sera’s voice came through the stairwell.
“You tried to make it obey you.”
She entered with Arden behind her.
The scar on her face looked white in the lens light.
Caedran turned.
“You should have died with your order.”
“I almost did. You were disappointed.”
“I was trying to save the barrier.”
“You told my soldiers to close the doors.”
His silence answered for him.
Elias stepped between them.
“We can argue about who was right after we stop this thing from killing the village.”
Mara pressed one palm against the lens.
The gold light reached for her.
The twin bond flared.
Elias put his hand over hers.
The lens responded to them.
“It can use us,” Mara said.
“No,” Elias replied.
“We use it.”
She looked at the villagers below.
They were frightened, exhausted, and waiting for someone else to choose their fate.
“We ask first.”
Caedran laughed once, without humor.
“You want a vote while the storm is at the door?”
“Yes.”
“They don’t know what they’re agreeing to.”
“Then we tell them.”
Arden ran to the window and called down to the square.
He explained that the twins could redirect the stolen energy into the barrier.
The village would have to lend its own magic willingly, in small measure.
No memories would be taken.
No one would be bound.
If the villagers refused, the twins would find another way.
For several heartbeats, only the storm answered.
Then Nella raised her hand.
Tamsin raised hers.
The girl from the square lifted both arms.
One by one, the villagers gave their consent—not to the Crown, not to the engine, but to one another.
The lens brightened.
Caedran looked at the people below.
“You will die.”
“We’ll choose what we risk,” Nella called back.
The High Marshal drew his sword.