Down below, the air was wrong.
Not thick.
Not thin.
Just tired.
The containment level hummed under strain—emergency power stitched together with rushed repairs, the elevator shaft still warm from friction burns where it had been forced back into service. Lights flickered, never fully committing to brightness.
Valeum did not sleep.
He strained constantly, body shifting in small, unsettling ways—never still long enough to rest. His form tugged against the limits of itself, like it couldn't remember which shape was supposed to last.
The elevator doors slid open.
Sable stepped out and closed them behind her.
She did not rush.
She pulled a chair into place opposite the glass and sat down, posture straight, hands resting loosely at her sides. Calm. Unyielding. Her blade remained uncalled, but its presence was felt all the same.
"Valeum," she said evenly. "You can't earn freedom if you don't cooperate."
Valeum snarled.
The sound tore out of him wet and raw, followed by a rattling cough that dragged breath back into his chest.
"Valeum does not speak," he croaked. "Not until Valeum can stand. No more threads…"
His body trembled.
"They keep Valeum awake."
Sable rose and stepped closer to the glass.
"You can trust me," she said.
Valeum's head snapped up.
"Valeum does not trust blade woman," he hissed. "You've killed my brothers. My sisters. You would kiiiilllll Valeum."
Sable didn't deny it.
"I have killed," she said calmly. "Only in my defense."
Valeum's eyes narrowed, pupils fluttering too fast.
"Valeum smells your words," he rasped. "Twisted. Sharp. Blllaaaadeee."
Sable let the accusation hang.
Then she changed direction.
"You said more Seraphim are hiding," she said. "Where?"
Valeum laughed.
It came out broken—half mockery, half choke.
"Unseeeeen," he said. "You will never find. Effort is pointless, blade."
Hours passed like that.
The same circling answers.
The same refusal.
The same hunger vibrating under every word.
Sable leaned back against the wall, eyes closing briefly—not in defeat, but calculation.
Then she opened them.
"Varos," she said. "He's trying to ascend. How does forced harmony help him do that?"
Valeum stilled.
Not completely.
But enough.
"Varos…" he muttered. "Fool. Hungry fool."
His voice lowered, something colder slipping in.
"Varos weakens prey," he said slowly. "Alone, prey is weak."
His body twitched.
"But together… prey becomes one mind. One flesh. Strong."
Sable's gaze sharpened.
"And that weakens other predators."
"Yes," Valeum hissed.
"The Hand," Sable said. "It was meant to weaken Allium."
Valeum convulsed sharply.
"Weaken Allium," he snapped. "Not like thiiiissss."
His body vibrated harder.
"Not enough flesh. Not enough minds. Kyros was there. Watching. Supervising."
His breathing hitched.
"Not full plan. Noooo. First trial. Yes?"
Sable stepped closer.
"Valeum," she said. "What's happening?"
Valeum's form began to blur.
Just barely.
His outline shimmered, clawed hand phasing a fraction out of alignment before snapping back violently. Panic bled into his scent.
"Valeum tired of questions!" he shrieked. "Valeum wants freedom!"
Sable summoned her blade.
Blue-white light filled the chamber—clean, controlled.
"Don't," she warned.
Valeum recoiled, eyes squeezing shut.
"Valeum knows you, blade!" he cried. "You will kill Valeum if Valeum stays or goes!"
Sable exhaled slowly.
She glanced once around the room.
Then she reached forward.
The glass slid open.
Valeum froze.
"Be quuuuicccckkkk," he whispered.
Sable moved.
The blade flashed—not toward him, but through the restraints. Precise cuts. No hesitation.
Valeum dropped.
He hit the floor hard, catching himself on one clawed hand, the other splaying human-like against the metal.
He stared up at her, stunned.
"Blade…" he croaked. "Doesn't kill?"
Sable lowered the weapon.
"So," she said evenly, "will you answer my questions now, Valeum?"
Valeum looked down at his hands.
One monstrous.
One almost human.
"Valeum will honor words," he said quietly. "And purity."
He lifted his head.
"Varos is taking Kyros fuel left behind," he said. "Planning to burn souls for power."
Sable turned toward the exit.
Valeum followed.
"Humanity weak," he continued. "But soul. Will. Strong. Collective… powerful."
She stopped.
"So that's how Varos plans to ascend," she said. "How do you know?"
Valeum hesitated.
"We hide," he admitted. "In ley lines. Where we cannot be used. Only found."
His voice fractured.
"Brothers. Sisters. Lost to hunger. They hope. They hide."
Sable turned fully to face him.
"Are you a threat," she asked, "or an asset?"
Valeum answered without pause.
"Valeum wants better future. Better image for kind."
A breath.
"Valeum was not always like this. Fallen form."
His eyes lifted, something fragile flickering there.
"The heart… brings us hope."
Sable studied him.
This was no monster.
No beast.
Just something shaped by survival.
She stepped into the elevator and held it open.
"Your kind may never be accepted," she said. "I don't trust you."
Valeum nodded slowly.
"But I believe you," she continued. "Stay close."
Valeum gurgled softly and stepped inside.
The doors slid shut.
They rose toward the others.
Toward truth.
Toward consequences.