My room is a scene of destruction, like a forest decimated by termites. No one has tried to stop me, and I suppose it’s because nothing I’m doing has the slightest effect. And even if it did, where would I go? Zerra said we’re in and around Ouranos, which means nothing to me. Can I get back home on my own? What I know is that I’m not getting anywhere trapped in this room. I have to find Lor. If my father gets his hands on her . . . he will make sure she doesn’t escape again.

With the last chair lying in pieces at my feet, I scan the room, searching for something else I can use. The door comes and goes, which is very disconcerting. It appears in different places whenever someone enters to bring me food, though it’s been a few days since that happened. Thankfully, I’ve made it last, though I’m reaching the end of that, too. Zerra is punishing me for my disobedience. She called me Herric. Something tells me this is all so much worse than I originally thought.

A flash catches the corner of my eye through a window, and I spin around.

Red lightning fills the sky far in the distance. It sparks and cracks across the pristine blue, illuminating fluffy white clouds with blood-red streaks. I’m momentarily stunned until my brain catches up.

“Lor,” I croak. There’s no other possibility or explanation. I won’t accept one. It has to be her.

But I’ve destroyed everything around me—the bed, the tables, the chairs, the wardrobes. Not that any of it has been of use. I consider how hard it would be to drag the bathtub out here.

Out of frustration, I run for the window, hurling my body at it, using my shoulder to pummel the glass. And then I lose my mind, punching the surface, left, right, left, right until my knuckles bleed. I scream for Lor, frustration and rage oozing from every cell.

Blood smears against the glass, and then . . . a hairline crack forms. I stare at it in disbelief, blinking a few times.

A sacrifice. That’s what Zerra said. My blood? Or rather . . . my suffering.

I punch the window again, my hand screaming in agony as more blood paints the surface and more cracks spread. I think of how the wall crumbled when Zerra threw me against it. Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

I continue punching the window until my hands are numb with pain, but I’m making progress.

I back up to the far side of the room and run at the window, wincing as I collide into it with my shoulder. But more cracks form, spiderwebbing out like a million tiny lifelines.

Fuck. Yes.