The door came off the hinges with a thunderous crash.

Raeca shrieked and lunged backwards, instinctively raising her broom to meet whatever had destroyed her door so suddenly. Her back hit the cabinets behind her. There was nowhere to run, and she could hear someone coming in the back door just as violently.

Men in full armor poured in, wearing the tabard of the Golden Temple’s private elite. They each carried heavy shields that fitted together into a seamless wall, and maces engraved with holy symbols, so powerful that Raeca could barely look at them.

The leader stepped forward, magnificent in his golden armor, the falling star of the Temple emblazoned across his white tabard. “Are you Healer Raeca?”

“Yes?” Raeca said, a deep, sinking feeling starting to fill her chest. The Temple was not generally known for showing up in force. The rare times they did, nothing good followed. “Are you injured, m’lord? I can help—”

“Have you seen this man?” He interrupted her and brandished a much-folded, hastily drawn portrait of Haroun.

Raeca hesitated. She was reluctant to lie to these soldiers. Rumor had it that they could smell a lie from ten miles off. Still, she was even more reluctant to give up her friend to people who clearly meant him no good.

“A few times,” she compromised carefully and wondered if she could get to the little alarm-spell Haroun carved into her doorway. She had a very nasty feeling about these men, and there was no way she could take them on. “Brendis, the Hero, comes to me for healing sometimes. I’ve seen them together once or twice.”

Not a word of it a lie. She really had only seen Haroun and Brendis together a few times.

“Do you know who he is?” The captain demanded. He stepped into her space menacingly. Raeca did her best not to flinch as the other soldiers began hunting through her small house, leading a trail of chaos in their wake. “Tell me!”

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“Yes, I know who he is,” Raeca said, and lunged forward in time to keep a whole basket of fragile vials from hitting the floor. “Stop! I promise you, no one larger than a child could fit in my herb cabinets!”

“You have been consorting with the Dark Sorcerer,” the captain said, and wrapped one gauntleted hand around her wrist, punishingly tight even as his men continued ripping her house apart. “You are guilty of treason.”

“I’m not!” Raeca protested and struggled to get away. Bruises formed under his hand as he held on tighter, and she gave up before he could break her wrist. “Queen Calliope is here all the time! So is Brendis! They can tell you!”

“The Queen is aware of your traitorous ways,” the captain said, and began to drag her outside. “Her heart is broken to know that one she thought a friend is plotting with the Great Evil.”

“He brought Brendis to me!” Raeca began to struggle again as true fear swamped her. “I didn’t know who he was!”

“But you did not tell the Queen when you found out,” the captain said, and snapped his fingers. His soldiers began to file out of the house. “The Golden Temple has only one punishment for treason against the Great Queen.”

“I didn’t betray Calliope! I never would!”

He backhanded her, and Raeca fell to the ground, dizzy. Her cheek burned, and she felt the itch of blood trailing down her chin.

“Burn it,” he commanded without looking at her. “The profane lair of a traitor must be cleansed.”

“No!” Raeca tried to run forward and was easily captured. Tears ran down her cheeks and burned across her cut. “Please don’t!”

“You will not need it again,” the captain said, righteous pride in his voice. “Indeed, you will never need anything again, by the time the sun sets.”

One of the soldiers went inside, and very shortly after, smoke billowed out the door and windows. When he came back out, Raeca saw flames behind him. When the dark smoke blew into her face, she caught the scent of oil and wax.

Her home. The home of a dozen healers before her. All her materials and ingredients.

The haven of two men who had so little else in their lives to keep them sane.

The runes on the door lintel were close, and Raeca reached for them, hoping that, if nothing else, they would tell Haroun what happened to her.

The captain was faster than she was, and hauled her back, hand brutally tight on her arm. Raeca fought, or tried to, but she was no warrior, and no battle mage. She could no nothing against this soldier captain, who wore his armor lightly, and moved like the souls of the damned were in his shadow.

But she tried, beating at his chest with her free hand, weeping and struggling, and all for nothing.

“Silence her,” he commanded shortly. Raeca barely had time to hear him, before something heavy hit the back of her head, and she knew nothing more.