My mother sighed and hung her head.
“You know what it means?” I tilted my head in question.
Her silence is answer enough.
“Torren,” I whispered.
“Trent, you mean.” She corrects me. Her jaw tightened around the name, hatred, and history flickering in her eyes.
Mira let out a low growl.“He should be dead for the things he’s done.”
I let out a slow breath, the memory of his touch flaring in my mind—his mouth, that reckless kiss in the tunnels, the sharp crackle of something binding between us before he tore himself away. The way my skin burned afterward, like my body was trying to decide if it wanted him or wanted him dead.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” I murmured. “The marking, I mean. It was different from what I did with my men at the academy. Itfeltdifferent, I can’t really explain how.”
“Did it?” Mom asks quietly. “Didshehave something to do with it?”
The voice.
The one that curls through my dreams with smoke and starlight, threading visions of my past life through my veins. The one that sounds like a chorus and a single woman all at once. My Ancestor. My queen. Myself.
Last night, just before I woke with my chest on fire, I’d seen something—a man standing in the dark with two faces. One was soft, almost boyish, eyes bright with that crooked fascination I’d seen in Torrens’s gaze. The other was harder, cruel, a stranger made of edges and shadow.
One man. Two faces. Both are looking at me.
I explained what I’d dreamed to my Mom.
“I don’t think the Ancestors did this to me,” I said slowly. “I think… they let me do it. Or I did it with theirpermission. Like they opened a door and I walked through without realizing.” I stopped talking and stared at her for a moment. “How did you know about the voice?”
Mom’s fingers tighten around the blanket. “There are things we know that we can’t tell you,” she whispered. “We want todesperately, but it might harm the order of things.”
“I understand, but it’s extremely frustrating,” I mumble.
Her gaze softened. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple, then stood, her leather pants creaking softly in the quiet. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, time-worn note. I felt my body grow hot. I recognized that piece of paper; it was the note from Professor Lee.
“I know you recognize this,” she whispered, eyes searching mine with something close to fear. “He said you were only to read it when the man with two faces appeared.” My breath stalled. Her hand tightened around mine, steady and sure despite the tremor beneath it. “Reverie… It’s time.”
I started to open it, and she stopped me.
“Get dressed,” she said. “You need to read the note. But not here.”
“Where then?”
“Breakfast,” she said solemnly. Mira nuzzled her in comfort. “With everyone. And then, you and I will have our own conversation. About Trent. About that mark. And about the fact that the sign of the man with two faces has finally shown up on my daughter’s skin.”
I blink. “You understand what all of this means?”
She hesitated. “Later, sweet girl. Get ready. Your men are already up, and Chloe’s threatened to eat your portion if you don’t show.”
“Thatmonster,” I mutter. But my chest is too tight to joke properly.
She and Mira left, and I dragged myself out of bed, the chill of the cave air making me shiver. The makeshift sleeping quarters were carved out of Nyberie’s tunnels—smooth stone walls, low ceilings, and the faint glow of bioluminescent moss paintingeverything in muted blues and greens. Voices echo down the passage, low and familiar.
My parents brought me some clothes from home, and Tanya filled in the gaps—Aurathion leathers and modern Earth fabrics—a strange mix, just like everything else in my life right now.
I stared down at the small piece of paper, a feeling of dread in my gut.
Best to get it over with. I knew there was nothing I couldn’t face with my men at my side.
