In this scene, we glimpse for the first time the full extent of Heino’s transformation of the Forest into a totalitarian system of surveillance and control. From the sheer scale of the Citadel—Heino’s secret command center—down to the electrified fences and owl patrols, the setting evokes images of military-industrial complexes, high-security prisons, and dystopian superstates.

The presence of the Citadel next to a hydroelectric power plant is no coincidence. Power—both metaphorical and literal—is Heino’s obsession. He has drained the river, displaced life, and erected cold, efficient machinery in its place. What was once natural and wild has been tamed, weaponized, and put under twenty-four-hour surveillance. The metaphor deepens when we see who Heino has imprisoned: Anne’s former companions, the allies of the Forest, and even incidental characters like the rogue seagull. He has locked away not just people, but stories—living reminders of a world he wants to erase or rewrite.

And yet, there is resistance. The prisoners may be ragged and scattered, but they are not broken. Their postures are upright. Their spirits flicker with dignity. And Anne, standing above and looking down, is beginning to understand that this story is no longer just about her escape—it’s about rescue. About return. About facing what has been twisted and taken.

The Citadel scene marks the emotional turning point of the book. Anne has allies again. She is no longer a fugitive, but a leader. The path forward will be dangerous—but it has become clear. It leads straight into the lion’s den.

The symbolism is unmistakable: an empire built on surveillance and silence can be undone by memory and voice. And Anne, for the first time, isn’t just reacting—she’s choosing. The citadel doesn’t just reveal the scale of Heino’s power; it calls forth Anne’s own.