Chapter 17 – Dungeon Resurgence

The Citadel was silent.

Too silent.

Cyr sat alone in the healing wing, blood drying on his hands. Every healer in the North had tried—her pulse had stopped. Her lungs had fallen still.

But her body remained… *intact.*

No decay. No rigor. No cold.

Just silence.

Like her gift was holding her in a liminal state—between breath and memory.

“She’s not gone,” he whispered. “She’s *not gone.*”

Varek entered, voice low. “She’s missing.”

Cyr’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Gone. Before sunrise. Her body. Taken.”

The war room fell still.

“There were no witnesses,” Varek continued grimly. “But the residue on her bed—the resonance field—it’s imperial.”

Cyr gritted his teeth. “The governor.”

“They’re taking her south. Underground.”

“Why?”

Varek hesitated. “To drain her. Harvest her blood. Use her voice.”

Cyr stood, rage blazing through pain. “Get me a cloak. A sword. And the rebels.”

“You can’t fight like this—”