Page 86 of The Shadow Sanctum

God, I hope that isn’t true.

Silence while Angel stares at the computer.

“We’ll come back,” I assure him. “I promise. But now, we gotta go.”

Then the horn blares a second round of blasts, dragging our attention to the window. Angel lets go of the computer and lets me lead the way out of the house in a hurry.

CHAPTER 24

LUNA

The horn blares so loud that my teeth rattle along with my nerves.

It isn’t the call of a ceremony, a birth, or a celebration. It’s the long, guttural blast meant for emergencies, and it slices straight through my chest. Father stiffens at my side as we stride toward the sound. He’s just as anxious as I am to see what the top two people in the Shadow Sanctum could possibly not know.

The square at the center of the compound is already alive with bodies when we arrive. Families spill in from every direction, mothers clutching children, Keepers barking orders to back away from the stage. The air is sharp, frigid, but heat radiates off the panic. Dozens of voices overlap—questions, rumors, pleas—all rising into chaos.

“What happened?” someone demands. “What’s going on?”

I catch flashes of dread: faces drawn tight, eyes wide, hands wringing. Fear spreads like fire, fast and merciless.

At the front of the square, two Keepers drag another Keeper, Patrick, onto the stage. He thrashes violently against the bindings around his wrists until his sweat melts streaks of soot and blood down his face. When they shove him to his knees, the crowd hushes just enough for his words to carry.

“They were sick!” Patrick’s chest heaves. Whatever beating he’s taken, he still looks determined to spread the word.

I take off toward the stage, but I’m not even halfway there before the damage is too great.

“Head Keeper allowed the illness to spread through the mines, and now they’re killing our children!”

A collective murmur surges. My stomach twists, and when I get to the stage, I look around at the gathered crowd. People look frightened but not disgusted. They want to hear what he has to say.

“Enough!” Father booms, but Patrick doesn’t listen, and for once, the Keepers don’t force his will. They stand off to the side with faces drawn tight in defiance. Now they can be brave.

“We had to burn the source!” He yells, the soot on his face finally making sense.

The mines.

“What?” Father whispers against a crowd of panicked parents. Gasps ripple outward like shockwaves. Parents clutch their children tighter. A Nurturer wails. Several people grunt their approval.

“You fools!” Father shoves toward the stage. He climbs the steps in two leaps and addresses the crowd. “The illness is coming from the water supply. Luna has already concluded it. The mines are the source of our wealth, not the source of illness! Every member is required to report there immediately. We need all the water we have⁠—”

“They want us to believe a lie!” Patrick yells out. “They’re willing to save our slaves but not our children!”

People roar in agreement. Father’s eyes widen.

They’ve turned against me. If he’s not careful, they’ll turn against him.

But he’s not careful. His entire life’s fortune was just stripped away, and it’s still morning. For once, he’s caught off guard.

This is the point where a faithful daughter would step in to help him.

I wait for answers the same as everyone else.

“The children are the future,” Father shouts back. “And without our wealth, they will have no⁠—”

“It’s too late,” a Keeper shouts. “The mines are gone.”

“Who’s going to save our children?” a Nurturer calls.