Even in the tank, she could feel the lumithium inside them.
By its nature, lumithium bound the four elements of air, water, earth, and fire together, and in that binding, resonance was created.
The Sacred Faith held that resonance was a gift, intended by Sol, godhead of the elemental Quintessence, to elevate humanity. Resonance was a rare ability in many parts of the world, but not in Sol’s chosen nation of Paladia. The pre-war census had estimated nearly a fifth of the population possessed measurable resonance levels. The number had been expected to rise further with the next generation.
Usually, resonance was channelled into the alchemy of metals and inorganic compounds, allowing for transmutation or alchemisation. However, in a defective soul which rebelled against Sol’s natural laws, the resonance could be corrupted, enabling vivimancy—like what the woman had used on Helena—and the necromancy used to create necrothralls.
As the element of resonance, lumithium could increase or even create resonance in inert objects through exposure, making them alchemically malleable. However, pure lumithium was too divine for mortals; overexposure caused wasting sickness, and for individuals with resonance, direct exposure could result in a raw, metallic pain within their nerves.
The lumithium in the manacles didn’t seem to make Helena sick. Which meant that something had altered it. The sharp energy inside was keyed into her resonance, but rather than turn it raw, it blurred her senses. She could feel her resonance, but when she tried to control it, the cuffs were like static in her nerves. No matter how she tried, she could not push beyond it.
All she knew was that as long as those manacles remained locked in place, she wasn’t an alchemist at all.
CHAPTER 2
THERE WAS A NECROTHRALL SOMEWHERE NEARBY. ALONE and able to focus, Helena could smell the rotting meat and chemical preservatives. The Undying used the dead like puppets to perform any undesirable or menial tasks. Chained and waiting, she wondered what this one was being used for. She peered around, looking for any shadows beyond the curtains.
“Marino?”
Her name was whispered so softly, it could have been a breeze.
Turning, Helena made out a face peeking through the dividing curtain. She squinted hard, and her eyes managed to focus enough to make out a pale face and hair.
“Marino, is that you?”
Helena nodded, still trying to see who it was.
“It’s Grace. I was an orderly in the hospital.” She crept through the curtains as she spoke. She had a heavy Northern accent, the kind that pulled hard on the consonants.
“Sorry, I’m—disoriented,” Helena said.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Grace came closer, youthful yet sunken features emerging from the dimness, her expression both frightened and curious.
Helena’s eyes widened.
Grace’s face was disfigured with scars, long cuts that bisected her cheeks and chin and nose. Not the accidental marring of injury. They were intentional.
Helena tried to lift a hand, but the shackles on her wrists were too short. “What happened?”
Grace looked confused, and then—following Helena’s stare—reached up to touch her face. “Oh, the cuts? We all have them.”
“What? Why would the liches—”
Grace shook her head sharply. “Keep your voice down.” She glanced around quickly, sniffing at the air before looking back at Helena again, her eyes angry. “They use the greys for listening sometimes. There’s one in here, can’t you smell it? You can’t call the Undying liches.” The word came out barely a whisper. “If they hear—there’ll be—consequences.”
Helena nodded quickly, afraid Grace might flee if she wasn’t careful.
Grace crept closer.
“The Undying didn’t do this.” She gestured at her face. “We did it ourselves. The Undying can do anything they want to us—to anyone labelled Resistance. It’s the thing nowadays to keep greys instead of staff. Other times—they just want something to play with. At a party or—after a night out.” Her face twisted. “No one interferes. Even the ones who aren’t Undying or in the guilds will go along with it because they all hope it’ll give them a better chance of earning immortality, too.”
Grace gave a jerky, stilted shrug. “But if you’re messed-up looking, they won’t keep you for long.” She drew a shaky breath and then peered hard at Helena. “Where have you been?”
Helena shook her head, trying to absorb everything Grace had said. “They took me to a warehouse—after—”
Grace’s eyes narrowed.
Helena stared at her searchingly. “Is the Eternal Flame still—”
“No.” Grace shook her head violently, and her expression turned angry. “They’re all dead. Every one of them. After Luc was dead, they sent the rest of us out to the factory Outpost below the dam. Most of us can’t leave. Takes months of good behaviour to get permission, and we have to wear these.” She held up a wrist cuffed with a copper band, brighter and more fitted than Helena’s. “We have to check in morning and night. There’s a curfew. If anyone’s missed for more than twenty-four hours—” She swallowed. “If they don’t turn up, the High Reeve’s sent to hunt them down, and they’re always dead by the time he brings them back. The Warden likes to string them up, leaves them hanging for days sometimes, and then when they’re starting to rot, she’ll reanimate them and have them ‘work’ with us for a while before they go to the mines. Says it’s so we don’t forget the rules.”
“Who—” Helena forced herself to ask, even though she was afraid to know.
Grace hesitated, eyes softening slightly. “Lila Bayard was the first one he brought back.”
Grace was saying something else, but Helena couldn’t hear her. All she heard was “Lila Bayard was the first,” over and over.
Not Lila …
Grace’s voice came slowly back. “The Warden had her put into paladin armour and stationed at the gate. She’d been dead awhile already. Must’ve gotten pretty far. More than half of her face was missing, and she didn’t have the prosthetic leg anymore, so they welded a steel bar on to keep her upright. She—It can’t really move. Just stands there. We go past every day.” Grace seemed to finally notice Helena’s expression; she looked down. “She’s mostly bones now. The Warden thinks it’s—funny.”
Helena shook her head, struggling to accept it, but of course Lila was dead. For Luc to be captured and killed, his paladins had to be killed. That was the oath they took, to die for the Principate.
Helena swallowed hard. “But surely somewhere—the Resistance—”
“There’s no Resistance!” Grace said in a harsh whisper. “You think the rest of us were going to keep fighting, with everyone in the Eternal Flame dead? There’s no point. The High Reeve kills everyone. Any hint, even whispers get people killed. He has this—this monster he uses for hunting. There’s no point in running away or resisting or organising unless you want to be the next corpse.”
Helena fell silent. Grace watched her warily, fidgeting and seeming ready to bolt at any moment.
“Who’s the High Reeve?” Helena hoped it was a safe question to ask. She didn’t remember the title.
Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. He still wears a helmet the way the Undying did during the war. The High Necromancer’s too important for public appearances, so he sends the High Reeve instead. He’s some kind of vivimancer, but not like the rest. He kills people without even touching them.”