The courtyard was silent.
Soldiers stood rigid under the dark night. Prisoners knelt parallel to them. Between them—nothing. No mercy. No hope.
Bang!
The doors flew open. Every eye turned toward the noise. Thorne stepped out, standing tall on the balcony, surveying the crowd below.
The soldiers erupted in cheers, their voices filled with excitement and loyalty. Beside Thorne, William remained silent, hands clasped.
Thorne grabbed the microphone as the courtyard slowly calmed.
"My dear soldiers… No. You are more than soldiers," Thorne began, his voice calm but carrying authority.
"We've shed blood together, on the battlefield, before and after the Fracture. You are like my brothers and sisters," he paused, letting the words sink in. "My family."
"And I will be damned if my family is treated like trash!" Thorne's hand slammed against the balcony, shaking it. Muffled mumbles of agreement rolled through the soldiers.
"Therma shelters traitors, and the Neutrals breed betrayal," he continued, his voice cold.
"And what do we have?"
"The power to eliminate them!" Thorne shouted, his words igniting the courtyard. The soldiers' cheers roared in reply.
"And we will give them a choice: Become Obsidian—or burn with Therma. But make no mistake: the Neutrals will exist no more."
"Brothers! Sisters! It is time to rise! Show them the sharp edges of your Obsidian hearts and the purple blood in your veins!"
"Show them that you are Obsidian!"
The courtyard exploded with screams of approval and the sharp reports of gunfire.
"Long live Obsidian! Long live Thorne!" the soldiers chanted, as Thorne calmly turned and walked away.
William's eyes scanned the prisoners, locking onto Kierah before he followed Thorne inside.
Hours passed.
A vast hall came to life, sunlight spilling through broken windows, revealing sleeping bags and exhausted prisoners. Groans echoed as the Obsidian soldiers opened the doors.
"I'm looking for a Keirah Jones," a soldier barked.
"Keirah? I know you're here. Sir William is asking for you. Please, show yourself," another soldier urged.
The first soldier approached a double bunk. On the top, a small figure lay hidden under a thin blanket. The soldier yanked it away, dragging Keirah by her hair.
The two began walking toward the main courtyard.
"You said William asked for me. Again?" Keirah asked, voice trembling.
"Yes," the soldier replied coldly.
"Wait… why?"
"Because you're Therma." The soldier leaned close, voice low.
"And so am I," Keirah whispered.
"Wait, what?" Keirah stopped in her tracks.
"Keep moving," the soldier shoved her onward.
"I don't understand… Did Therma send you?"
"Nope. Obsidian took me in—it was either that, or death. And by the way…" The soldier grinned. "It's Thompson."
"How'd you know that was me?" Keirah asked, hair matted, eyes wide.
"You're one of the youngest here. Anyway… I'm going to help you escape and warn Therma of Obsidian's plans," Thompson whispered.
"But first…" They stopped before a massive door.
"You're going to get tortured," Thompson muttered.
"Good luck. And remember—I'm just an Obsidian guard." He winked, stepping back as the doors swung open.
Evelyne stood before her.
"Oh… fuck," Keirah muttered under her breath.