Chapter Six #2
I’ve had people. But never that, never without my wall down. Maybe I never will.
“That was a bold move,” Rowan says, his voice quiet but firm enough to cut through Ezzy and Finn’s bickering. “Challenging a Veirmont. I don’t think he’s used to people standing their ground.”
“Definitely not from a cadet, let alone an Outerlander!” Finn smirks while he continues to elbow Ezzy.
I lift a shoulder. “Well, I’m not the type to back down...”
Rowan studies me. Not unkindly. Just… precise. “Probably for the best, then... that it didn’t escalate.” A pause. “Not sure you would have walked away from it clean.”
The words land harsher than they should. Not cruel and definitely not wrong. Still, the pressure in my chest builds, magic restless.
Hold it together, Lyra. We don’t need more enemies today.
And sure, friends are a liability, I know that, but even liabilities have their uses. And if I’m going to survive this place, I need more than just sharp edges, I need intel.
So I smile. Tight, controlled. “How about you three show me around?”
Ezzy steps forward, eyes beaming, like she’s just been waiting for the invitation.
What follows is a blur of cold stone corridors and identical lecture theatres, each one candle lit with the same orange glow. Each one just as grand, cold and clean to the point of sterile.
Beside me, Ezzy rattles off names, building wings, Realm sectors, Thread labs, but the words slide past me like water on glass.
She talks. I nod. But I barely hear her.
I should be listening.
I should care about tower wings and checkpoint names, about where I’m meant to sleep, eat, survive. But I can’t seem to hold on to anything she says. My mind keeps drifting—first to Bren.
God, what if he thinks I’m already dead? He’ll be out there, tearing himself apart with worry. Probably at his mum’s, trying to keep it together for his sisters, and failing. Picturing my body dumped somewhere outside the walls. And I can’t even send word.
The thought twists inside me, deep and biting, but I push it aside, no room for weakness here.
Anyway, luckily for him, he’s got neither the magic nor the guts to even try looking for me, because if he did, this place would tear him apart.
I hope he checks on Rhiann though, her son, they won’t have enough Spice to get through the week let alone a whole month…
Ezzy bumps my side and nods toward a statue, same creepy guy from earlier, the one in bone-white robes everyone seemed to adore. I nod back, polite smile, pretending to care, pretending to listen. But my mind’s still somewhere else, not Bren now, Talen.
Fuck, the look in his eyes, cold and sure. Like he’s already mapped out exactly how I’ll die. Like, killing me isn’t a question, it’s just a matter of timing. How the hell am I supposed to survive this? Survive him? I’ve never met anyone like Talen, so unnervingly composed, so violently calm.
And the worst part? I thought if I ever stood face to face with a Veirmont, I’d gut them without blinking. No hesitation. Just rage. And yeah, my Threads reacted—fury and fire clawing to the surface—but I wasn’t as angry as I should’ve been.
And that’s dangerous.
The thought makes something in me flinch, a stabbing twist low in my gut, like my body’s just catching up to the mistake. Ezzy’s right, there’s something about him that lures you in, makes you feel safe when you shouldn’t. Fucking Nightrose.
Beside me, Ezzy’s still chatting away while Rowan and Finn drift ahead, nudging each other, talking in bursts of low laughter.
Finn occasionally spins around to walk backward, cracking his knuckles as he throws exaggerated impressions at Rowan, who, book in hand, just shakes his head like he’s already over it.
“—and over there, that’s Brian,” Ezzy gestures toward a lanky, awkward-looking guard posted at the mouth of a long, dark tunnel.
I blink.
Shit. She’s been talking this whole time, and I haven’t caught a single word. I try to play it off, nod like I’ve been listening all along.
“His family and my family are really tight,” she continues, like she hasn’t noticed at all that my mind’s been drifting miles from here. “He’s usually stationed here at the south wing pass. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes he lets me sneak out to see my little sister on special occasions.”
I’m still barely listening, until I catch two words. Sneak out. I stop walking. That’s it. A crack in the wall.
“So you can get out of here?” I ask, too quick, aiming for casual and failing.
Ezzy blinks, surprised by the edge in my voice.
“Well… not exactly.” Her eyes flick to the tunnel.
“I mean, technically, yes. But only under really specific conditions. My parents are longtime scholars here, they’ve got clearance, connections.
” She shrugs, a sheepish little laugh slipping out.
“Perks of being an academic’s daughter, I guess.
” Then she nods toward Brian, who spots her and waves, way too eagerly.
“I mean, it also helps that he’s got a bit of a soft spot.
For me. For, you know, any girl who pretends to care about his personal research on Thread Resonance Curves. ”
Her gaze lingers on him, bright and amused as she lifts a small wave. Harmless. Cute.
“He’s sweet, though,” she adds, still watching Brian as he lights up like he’s just been knighted.
“Just… hopeless. Never had a girlfriend.” She pauses, then glances back at the tunnel.
“But, yeah, the tunnels are more about keeping people out. Most students spend their whole lives just trying to get in to the Citadel. Nobody really wants to escape once they’re here.
Why would they? This place is… everything. ”
I bite back a laugh. She’s delusional, they all are. Why would anyone want to stay here?
But still, I smile, because there’s more to Ezzy than I thought.
Soft, sure, but the way she plays Brian is impressive, she's sharper than she looks. Plus, she’s got access, connections, and doors that open for her just because of who her parents are.
That mouth of hers, too? It runs fast, no filter.
Sooner or later, more useful things will slip.
If sticking close to her means information, protection, maybe even a way out, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.
“He’s not the only checkpoint, though”, she continues, naively unaware of my motives. “Once you’re past him... well, let's just say for most cadets? It’s basically impossible.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why? What else is down there?”
Ezzy hesitates, just for a second. Her easy smile slips, like she’s only now realising how much she’s said, but still she continues like she can't help it.
“Um… I don’t really know, it’s just always been open for me.
Old Citadel blood, it opens doors. The protective Wards don’t react to me like they would with, well…
anyone else.” Her gaze flickers down the tunnel.
“I’ve heard stories, though. About what happens if anyone else tries to come through illegally.
The magic in these tunnels… it gets them.
..” She shrugs, flashing that same bright, innocent smile.
“But no one ever finds the bodies, so… no one ever really knows.”
All right. So maybe it’s a bit harder to escape than I hoped. But it’s something. A start. If Talen makes his move, if things go sideways, I know at least where to begin.
“Finn, stop, give it back.” Rowan huffs in front of us as Finn waves his book just out of reach.
Ezzy shifts to join them and I fall back, don’t push, don’t ask more. She’s already flinched once, press any harder and she’ll start wondering why I care so much. So I ease off, let her fill the silence as we keep walking. One potential exit down. One lanky, awkward officer to revisit later.
A few minutes later, down the corridor and up two flights of narrow stairs worn smooth by boots and years—we push through a set of wide wooden doors, and the air shifts immediately.
Colder, denser. A circular amphitheatre opens up ahead.
Seats rise in concentric tiers around a sunken floor, wide, flat, padded—the kind built to absorb impact.
Ezzy moves ahead, already pointing things out, her voice lighter again now, bouncing off the high ceilings, but I linger near the threshold, letting the space settle around me. Because whatever happens here, It doesn’t look gentle.
“Welcome to the Recreation Hall, or as we call it the Rec Hall.” Finn shouts from the centre of the mat, throwing his arms wide next to Rowan like he’s just been crowned king of the arena.
“What’s this used for?” I call out to them.
“Combat training,” Ezzy says, glancing back grinning.
Recreation Hall. Right. Nothing says relaxing pastime like body slams and near-death experiences.
“Last year, it was all theory and magic,” she continues.
“Thread work, magical Demonstrations, essays. But this year...” her eyes brighten, eager “...we finally get to add physical combat.” She says it like it’s some grand adventure.
Then she glances at the mat and shrugs. “It’s not really my area of expertise.
I’m better with my Threads... but Rowan and Finn,” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder, “they basically live for this place. They like to come here in the afternoons and practice. So I tag along. Try not to get hit. They’ve been helping me get better, and in return, I help them with more of the theory and academic stuff. Finn's not the brightest... ”
“Hey, I heard that.” Finn huffs from the centre. Ezzy just lifts a brow, a silent and?
I almost laugh. Yeah. No shit this isn’t her strength. That naivety of hers is already a liability, but this room? This is where it’ll really get her hurt.
On the mat in front, Finn and Rowan are already circling each other, sparring, half-pushing-half-joking, but I have to admit there’s also real form beneath it.