The latch withdrew with a quiet, metallic click. Valeria pushed the door open with her shoulder. The iron was heavy, set deep into the frame—it did not creak or resist. Good craftsmanship. Someone had ensured these doors worked efficiently, so they would open quickly when needed.
She stepped inside.
Something in the center of the cell turned instantly. The chains against the wall were thick, made of black iron. They held him in a kneeling position, his arms stretched behind his back. But that did not stop him from turning his head—quickly, too quickly for a man with pinned arms, at an angle that required twisting the spine dozens of degrees too far. Valeria heard the loud crack of cervical vertebrae. She saw more clearly now. His eyes were yellow. Both of them.
Valeria stopped two paces from the door.
The thing studied her for a moment—head slightly tilted, without blinking, without any facial expression that could be called human. Then it made a sound. Not a word. Something between a hiss and a gurgle, wet and deep, as if coming from somewhere lower than the throat.
Valeria reached into her pocket.
The thing saw the movement of her hand. The chains rattled violently—a forward lunge with its entire body, like a tethered dog suddenly spotting movement in the brush. The metal halted him thirty centimeters from the floor.
His lips moved. Silently. Rapidly.
Valeria pulled out the vacuum grenade. The glass was warm in her fingers. She threw it hard against the floor between herself and the target.
The substance spread instantly—a wave that Valeria felt as a sudden, strange sensation of emptiness behind her ears, like a sharp change in pressure. The Ether in the air evaporated. The thing emitted a short, high-pitched sound—not pain, not fear, but something else, something Valeria could not name. The veins on his back and shoulders stopped pulsing. The skin sagged, losing its tension.
The right eye slowly closed.
The body slumped as far as the chains allowed—forward, heavily, without control, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
For a long moment, the only sound in the cell was his heavy, irregular breathing.
Then the man lifted his head.
The left eye was open. The pupil was normal. The white was white. He looked at Valeria.
"How much time do I have," he said. His voice was hoarse, bubbling, as if speaking through water. But it was the voice of a man.
"A few minutes," Valeria said. "Maybe less".
He nodded, as if this were the answer he had been waiting for.
"My name is Aldric," he said. "I was a filter for eight years".
"I know".
She said it instinctively, then immediately went silent. Aldric watched her with his left eye. There was still something human in it—not in a warm or merciful sense, but in an understanding one. The consciousness behind that eye was present. It saw her.
"It hurts," he said. "Every one of these veins hurts individually. Like someone is sliding red-hot wires under the skin. Slowly. With intervals". He paused, breathing for a moment. "When it takes over—I feel nothing. That is the only relief".
Valeria drew the Severer. Twelve inches of steel. She gripped the hilt with both hands, thumb on the flat of the blade.
"I won't beg," Aldric said. "That isn't why I'm telling you this".
"That is good".
"I just want you to know". His left eye did not blink. "That I prayed every morning for eight years. That I believed". The chains rattled softly as his breathing shifted. "And that for eight years, Erynis did not answer me once".
Valeria stood motionless.
"The brothers said it was a trial," Aldric continued. "That the silence of the goddess is an answer in itself. That we must earn it". A short, bubbling sound that might have been a laugh. "Eight years of earning. And look where I am".
"In a place where you cannot harm others," Valeria said. "Thank you for your service. Not that it changes anything".
"Yes." His left eye narrowed slightly. "At least that".
The right eyelid flickered.
"Now," Aldric said quietly.
Valeria struck quickly, horizontally, in a single motion.
Post-annihilation procedures had their order.
Wipe the Severer clean—using the material from the left pocket, not the right; the right contained filters. Check that the blade has no nicks. Check if the hilt is wet from the substance on the floor. Sheath the weapon.
Examine the target. Ensure the deformation is not progressing. Ensure the breach is closed. Check the walls—look for any new cracks in the stone.
Write the report mentally—the annihilation formula, the state of the target before and after, the duration of the operation, the resources spent.
Valeria performed each of these tasks in turn. It took her four minutes.
At the door, she stopped and turned back. Aldric knelt by the wall, supported by his chains, head slumped. The veins on his back were motionless—black, dry, dead.
Valeria switched off her light and left.
The stairs from the third circle were steep. Valeria climbed slowly, placing her feet against the wall, counting the steps. Thirty-seven to the upper corridor.
Third circle. Second circle. The first airlock with steel doors—the night watchman opened them without a word, looking somewhere past Valeria. As always, Executioners existed outside the normal protocol of eye contact.
The vestry.
The elder filter sat at the table with a mug of something hot. The younger one stood at the shelf, pretending to organize vials. Both turned when she entered.
Valeria removed the black cloak and folded it on the table. She returned the leather glove.
"Clear," she said.
The elder filter nodded. He did not ask about Aldric. He did not ask how it went. That was the rule. The Filters prepare; the Executioners perform. No one asks anything.
Valeria exited through the narrow door back to the narthex.