Page 102 of Burning Ice
A2: Live vote.
“Attica’s signature,” Yure muttered. “Every prisoner has a number. Every number has a price.”
“Yure,” Kylix repeated, sharper.
“It just …” Yure’s fingers finally touched the controls. The screen flickered, one, two, three beats, and then opened into tens of faces. Tens of pairs of eyes were staring straight out at them.
“… the prisoners,” Mirel gasped.
“Can they see us?” Helianth asked.
“I don’t know.” Yure lifted his hands from the keyboard. “But look, I’m not doing anything. It’s moving by itself.”
On screen, they passed the cages and the feed shifted to a white wall. Blood smeared across it. Chains lay discarded, some scarlet red. “Good Light,” Mirel whispered. The camera switched back to the prisoners. “Look behind them.” Kylix leaned in with a frown. “What is that?”
Yure zoomed in on the square metal boxes that sat behind the cages, plastered against the ceiling. “I’m not sure.”
“Can you click on it?”
Yure’s fingers ghosted above the keyboard, but before he could decide, the unmistakable voice of Bekn slid through the speakers, smooth as oil. “You shouldn’t have looked where you weren’t invited.”
Next to him, Helianth gasped. “What the actual fuck?” Moargan growled. The faces of the prisoners began to move, out of rhythm. Smiling. Sobbing. The holo adjusted itself, light crawling down the walls until the whole kitchen was a single glowing cage.
“Shut it down,” Aviel ordered.
“I can’t.” Yure clicked frantically on the keyboard. His commands bled into static. “It’s overriding my control. It’s—”The faces melted together, forming a single pale mask. Eyes opening. Mouth splitting.
“Round two,” Bekn whispered. “You like cages, don’t you? Let’s see how small yours can get.”
The air pressure dropped. The holo screens curved inward, like the room itself was breathing. Theo whimpered, the sound small, strangled. Sparks danced up his chain, kissing his skin.
“Enough!” Kylix roared. His fire lashed out, pure instinct, catching the edges of the holo. The blue light shattered in a hiss of vapor and glass.
Kylix’s fire flared too bright, heat choking the room until the counters glowed. Mirel caught his wrist, grip sure. “Enough.” The sound cut through the blaze. The connection pulsed, heat collapsing into breath, fury swallowed by control. For a heartbeat, Kylix realized how easily Mirel could steady him.
Everything went dark. For a moment, the only sound was Yure’s ragged breathing. Then the chain at Theo’s throat pulsed with light, and Bekn’s voice returned, so soft it almost sounded like a whisper from inside Kylix’s ear.
“Still keeping the Imperial’s pets in order, Kylix?” The voice came from everywhere, through the walls, through the chain, through Theo’s throat. Kylix’s heat spiked, a tremor in the air that made the cupboards rattle.
“Tell me. Did he send you, or are you still pretending to be your own man?” Aviel’s hand tightened on Theo’s collar, light flared where he touched. Yure’s console flickered, lines of code jerking into place on their own. Aviel’s hand stayed at Theo’s throat longer than needed, the glow still pulsing beneath his fingers. “Submit,” he murmured, voice low enough that only Theo heard. The chain stilled, light trembling between them.
“Ah. There you are.” The sound shifted, lower, crueler. “Helianth. My golden boy. Miss me?”
Every screen in the room bled white. For a breath the light shaped itself, shoulders, a grin, eyes too bright, Bekn’s ghost rendered in static. Kylix’s hand found Mirel’s wrist, grip hard.
No one moved. “I still hear you scream, little sun. I dream of it.” Yure flinched, Aviel’s jaw locked. Even Theo, chained and trembling, made a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. Mirel didn’t need to ask who Helianth was, he felt the memory press against every man in the room. The threat spoke for itself.
Helianth’s voice cracked faintly through Yure’s comm, static cutting every syllable. “Bekn, stop.”
“Stop?” The laugh was quiet, almost tender. “We never stopped. You just left the door open.”
The image flickered again, one last pulse before it died.
A second feed caught in the light. Another cell blinked into view. One captive, about their age, thin and bare-footed, lightning crawling beneath his skin like something alive. His eyes glowed white-blue, electricity threading through the veins at his wrists.
No one spoke. The hum of the holo filled the air, too loud. A spark arced across the bars, then again, as if the energy inside him wanted out.
Before anyone could move, Mirel stepped forward, drawn as if the air itself pulled him.
