A heavy door swings open; the heavy air stirs. More smoke in the air, and the mingled stink of burnt hair and burnt meat.

Two heavyset figures in leather and chain mail, helms concealing their faces, march down the hall between the cells. A third figure slumps supported between them, head hanging low and loose as though barely conscious, bare feet dragging on the stone. The prisoner's face isn't visible either, but it's not hard to identify her by the long dark hair that falls across it -- even with the patches that are blackened and half missing.

"Mother," says Vesper in a voice that sounds even younger than Cassandra, and with shocking suddenness bursts into tears.