Chapter 3: Ashes of the Past

The factory was eerily silent. Karima sat on the edge of a rusted metal crate, her hands clasped together, mind racing through the chaos of the past few hours. The attack on her home, the arrest of her father, the desperate flight through the city—each moment still burned fresh in her mind. She felt like a marionette whose strings had been severed, the weight of reality pressing down on her shoulders.

Haytham paced in front of her, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor. He had barely spoken since they arrived, focused instead on setting up a temporary security perimeter around their safehouse. Now, as he glanced at her, his sharp green eyes softened slightly.

"You need to rest."

Karima shook her head. "I can't. Not while my father is—" She clenched her jaw, unable to finish the sentence. The thought of him being imprisoned, or worse, was too much to bear.

Haytham exhaled slowly, leaning against the workbench. "I get it. But sitting here, running yourself into exhaustion, won't help him."

She looked up at him, searching for answers in his unreadable expression. "What do we do now?"

Haytham crossed his arms, considering his words carefully. "First, we need to find out where they've taken your father. The Council won't waste time. If they arrested him under charges of treason, they'll be looking to extract information."

Karima shivered. "You mean torture."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Yes."

Her stomach twisted. She had grown up believing in diplomacy, in negotiations and political maneuvering. The idea that her father, a respected ambassador, could be subjected to such brutal methods felt unreal. But after what she had seen tonight, she knew better than to cling to old illusions.

"I need to know," she said, her voice firm. "Where is he being held?"

Haytham rubbed the back of his neck. "If the Council followed their usual pattern, they would have taken him to the Black Tower."

Karima stiffened. "The High Council's private prison?"

"More than just a prison. It's where they deal with threats to their rule—quietly. If he's there, we won't have much time."

Her pulse quickened. "Then we break him out."

Haytham's brows lifted in mild surprise. "Just like that?"

She met his gaze without hesitation. "You said it yourself—they'll be looking to extract information. My father won't last long in there."

For a moment, Haytham studied her, as if weighing her resolve. Then, to her surprise, he smirked. "You really are your father's daughter."

Karima set her shoulders. "That means you're with me."

"I never said I wasn't." He pushed off the workbench and moved to the map sprawled across the table. "The Black Tower is heavily guarded, but there's always a way in. I have contacts who might be able to help, but it won't be easy."

"I don't care about easy."

Haytham nodded approvingly. "Good. Because we'll need to move fast."

The city had transformed in the hours since they had fled the estate. Patrols now roamed the streets in greater numbers, and the usual bustle of Veyrith had been replaced with an uneasy stillness. Karima and Haytham moved through the alleys, keeping to the shadows, their footsteps muffled against the damp stone paths.

Haytham led the way, his movements sure and practiced. Karima followed, adjusting to his rhythm, her heart pounding with adrenaline. They needed information, and Haytham knew exactly where to get it.

They arrived at a rundown tavern near the docks, a place that smelled of salt and spilled ale. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the wooden floors, and the low hum of conversation filled the space. Haytham steered them toward a secluded booth in the back, where a man with grizzled features and a thick beard was nursing a drink.

As they approached, the man barely lifted his gaze. "Haytham."

"Garrick," Haytham replied, sliding into the seat across from him. Karima remained standing, her arms crossed.

Garrick finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. "She's new."

"She's with me," Haytham said simply.

Garrick shrugged. "What do you need?"

"We're looking for someone who was taken by the High Council tonight. Likely sent to the Black Tower."

The older man's eyes darkened. "That's dangerous business."

Haytham leaned forward slightly. "I wouldn't be asking if I had another option."

Garrick studied him for a long moment before nodding. "There's a supply convoy heading to the Tower at dawn. High security, but nothing is impenetrable if you know where to look."

Karima's mind raced. "A supply convoy?"

"Guards, but also blind spots," Garrick confirmed. "If you're serious about getting in, that's your best chance."

Haytham tapped his fingers against the table. "We'll need a distraction."

Garrick smirked. "I might know a guy."

As the first hints of dawn crept over the horizon, Karima stood beside Haytham behind a stack of crates near the city's western gate. The supply convoy was already assembling, a procession of armored transports preparing for their journey to the Black Tower.

Karima took a steadying breath. This was it. If they failed, there would be no second chance.

Haytham placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"

She met his gaze. "Let's do this."

The plan was simple: Garrick's contact would cause a commotion at the eastern checkpoint, drawing some of the guards away. While security was focused on that, Karima and Haytham would slip into one of the transport vehicles, hiding among the crates of supplies.

As the signal flares erupted in the distance, shouts and confusion rippled through the convoy. Guards abandoned their posts, rushing to reinforce the eastern gate. Taking their moment, Haytham grabbed Karima's hand, pulling her toward an unattended transport. With quick, silent movements, they climbed inside and wedged themselves between the cargo.

Karima held her breath as footsteps neared. A soldier paused just outside, muttering under his breath. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the transport jolted forward.

They were inside.

The Black Tower loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette promising danger. But Karima wasn't afraid.

She was ready.