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and Ellabell. Lintz hurried them out of the common room and through a door on the far side, entering a smaller, circular room that seemed to be inside a large tower of some sort. Lintz quickly urged them up a set of stairs to another room, above the first.

Stepping through the door to this final sanctuary, Alex noticed how quiet it was—the screaming was almost inaudible here.

Glancing around, he could see everyone was shaken by what had just happened, but he was too weak to offer more than a cursory look of empathy. His body was on the edge of collapse. Aamir helped Alex over to a moth-eaten chaise longue, where he settled him onto the dusty cushions.

“You okay?” Aamir asked, his dark eyebrows furrowing.

“I will be,” Alex breathed. “I-I just need a minute.”

Ellabell came to his side. “What you did back there—that was incredible
 Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Just need to catch my breath,” Alex insisted, but no one looked convinced. The faces staring back at him were pale and uncertain. Even Lintz looked shaken as he settled in an armchair across the room, a plume of dust rising as he sank onto the ancient upholstery.

“What was that red fog, anyway?” Natalie asked, turning to the professors.

A regretful expression fell across Lintz’s face. “A security measure, put in place by Caius to keep the inmates in order. Magic is woven throughout the keep’s walls, and it can spring at any moment, though it’s usually in response to something it doesn’t like—something it’s threatened by,” he admitted, turning to Alex. “Sorry I didn’t inform you earlier. I didn’t know your anti-magic would react in such a way.”

“So this is why there aren’t many guards on duty,” concluded Alex, still trying to regulate his breathing.

“Yup,” Lintz replied grimly. “Why have guards when you can have terrifying, mind-altering magic? Most of the mages could overthrow any guard you threw their way. Caius’s evil measures keep everyone in line—there isn’t a mage here who isn’t afraid of him and his Pandora’s box of tricks. They come in all kinds of dark and shocking forms, using methods of torture you couldn’t even imagine. Nobody is safe, not even the guards
 as you saw.”

“It’s in the walls? Like barrier magic?” asked Alex.

“It’s everywhere in the keep.”

The barrier at Spellshadow had been seemingly impenetrable, so it was no surprise to Alex that Kingstone was no different. Still, he wondered at the barrier’s strength. Ignoring the gasp of alarm from the others, Alex reached out to touch the wall behind him. He was careful not to let his anti-magic escape from beneath his skin, though he could feel the impulse to retaliate blistering inside him as he pressed his palm against the stone. Whatever the barrier magic was made from, it was far stronger than the barrier around Spellshadow; he could feel it actively pushing against him. He could well believe it would zap back if it didn’t like what it felt, and Alex had provoked it in some way.

As if reading Alex’s mind, Lintz gestured toward him. “You must have done something it really didn’t like, for it to react that intensely. The ‘nightmare fog,’ as we like to call it, is a rarer evil in Caius’s armory—one we try to avoid at all costs.”

“I didn’t realize I was doing it,” Alex said, rubbing at his neck.

“How’d these prisoners get here, anyway?” Jari asked, his hazel eyes wide as he looked from Lintz to Demeter. “They must have done something really nasty to end up in a place like this.”

“It varies,” Demeter murmured. “Some are the vilest criminals you could ever come across, while some are simply here because they did something the royals and the nobles didn’t like. Either way, they all have a death sentence.”

Alex frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Every prison sentence is a death sentence here,” Lintz explained. “At the end of a sentence, be it three years or a hundred years, Caius comes to remove the prisoner’s life essence and bottles it for further use.”

“Like at the schools,” Aamir said quietly.

“Yes,” Lintz replied, “only this essence is matured to such a point that it is the most potent of all the havens—really strong stuff. Here, it is quality over quantity.”

“But how could someone be in here for one hundred years? That is ridiculous,” stated Natalie, her expression incredulous.

“Well, magic does things to a person,” said Demeter. “It can extend the life of a mage long past what would be considered natural in the outside world, especially for very powerful mages. Take Caius, for example—he is known to be several hundred years old, and he’s not the only one to reach such lofty years. Some of the essence collected here is extremely old and, as a result, extraordinarily strong.”

Alex let the information sink in, his mind racing with questions. He wondered if that meant Caius was alive during the Spellbreaker battles, and what that meant for Alypia and the Head—how old did that make them? His curiosity was in overdrive, but he could also feel the cold, sluggish creep of exhaustion working its way through his bones.

There was one question he felt compelled to get off his chest, however.

“So are the Stillwater students here too? The ones who tried to run?” he asked, remembering Helena’s words again.

Demeter gave a heavy-hearted sigh. “They are, but you won’t find them in a good state. Despite my best efforts in my time here, I haven’t been able to prevent a single one from losing their mind. This place has a terrible effect on the young and hopeful; it steals their souls as well as their sanity. The keep is particularly cruel to those who don’t deserve to be here.”

“They can’t be helped?” Alex pressed.

Demeter shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Some seem fine for a while, but then their sanity simply leaves. It can take days, weeks, months, years, but every single one crumbles the same way. It’s like a disease—it starts slow, with

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