Going somewhere?”

Lei’s ribs were a single, massive ache. Every ounce of energy was gone. Even opening her eyes seemed not worth the effort. She was stretched out on a cold stone slab, but she was so exhausted that the discomfort seemed minimal.

But there was something … something important. The voice. She knew that voice.

She forced her eyes open. Her father was standing next to her, leaning over her and glancing at a sheet of parchment, as if he was comparing what he saw to notes on a schematic.

“Back now? Good.”

He made a note on the parchment. His expression and his tone were completely neutral—so much like the last time she’d seen him. But something was different. His hair. The color was richer and deeper than she’d ever seen it, the copper catching the light to burn with an inner fire. And his skin … it was free of lines.

She tried to speak, but she didn’t even have the energy to open her mouth. Her father seemed to notice her discomfort.

“Don’t struggle. There’s still work to be done.”

A young woman stepped into her field of view. “How is she?”

“She’ll be fine, Aleisa. I don’t think any permanent damage was done.”

Aleisa? Her mother? But this woman looked younger than Lei herself.

“And the others?” The pair turned away from her. She could see that there were a few other slabs in the chamber. A warforged soldier, each distinctly different from the others, was stretched out on top of each slab. Her parents were studying the figure on the next slab over, less than three feet away. No matter how hard she struggled, Lei couldn’t move, but from where she was she could still see. It was Pierce.

“The work continues apace,” her father said. “It was a traumatic experience for both of them, but the safeguards served their purpose. If anything, it may have helped to prepare this one for the task that lies ahead.”

“Good,” the woman said. She turned around and studied Lei, running her hand along her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “You’re doing fine. You’re doing everything you’re supposed to do.”

“I’m afraid a few adjustments will need to be made,” her father said. He had produced a few exotic tools—a long, narrow blade studded with dragonshards, and a pair of delicate silver tongs. “I imagine it will be painful for her.”

The woman stroked Lei’s cheek again, staring into her eyes, then she rose and turned her back on her daughter. “Do what you must,” she said, her voice cool. “I need to check on the others.”

Aleisa walked out of Lei’s field of view. Her father moved in. Raising the tongs and the razor-sharp blade, he brought the point up until it was level with her right eye.

And then he pushed.