Stepping into the space that had once made me feel safe, knowing who would be waiting for me now, tugged at something deep inside me—something I couldn’t begin to name.
The door groaned closed behind me as I entered the Bolthole. The flowered vines Cleo had so carefully tended were now shriveled and dead. The fountain had dried to nothing, its basin cracked. Weeds had reclaimed the courtyard, wild and unchecked—just like when we first discovered it.
The Grim stood with her back to me, long curls spilling recklessly down her spine. The gray strands had multiplied since the last time I saw her—her hair now more silver than black. She wore a heavy green cloak draped over her shoulders, embroidered with golden thread in the shape of a tree, its branches cascading like veins across the fabric.
Then she turned with a lazy, deliberate grace—like the world itself moved for her, not the other way around. Her cloak swished in a low arc as she faced me.
I stood once again face-to-face with my enemy.
But this time, there would be no breaking. I would not falter.
Flames ignited in my fists, flickering at my sides. The air around me swirled in tight, protective spirals—alive, alert, and on my side. The sounds of war roared through the open ceiling above, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away.
The Grim cocked her head, a wolfish grin curling on her lips. “My dear niece,” she purred. “I’m so happy you came.” Her eyes swept down my frame, then back up, cold and appraising. “You look… well-nourished. Strong, even. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
A spark leapt from my fist and snapped against the stone. “I am not your niece.”
She bit her lip, then clasped her hands primly at her waist—false civility wrapped in poison. “Let’s not start off on the wrong foot, Scarlet Thorne. It’s beensolong since I’ve seen you.” A mocking tilt of her head. “Or I guess you’re not a Thorne anymore, are you? Is itFitzroynow?”
I stepped forward, fire trailing in my wake. “I am no Thorne. I am no Fitzroy. I am the Crimson Wraith—”
I stopped three feet from her, flames crackling at my fingertips. The earth stirred in my veins, a deep, grounding power rising from within. Around us, life bloomed—foliage unfurling where ruin had reigned. The air whistled with rising force, and behind me, the once-dead fountain erupted, overflowing with clear, rushing water.
“—and I’ll be the last thing you see before your life ceases to exist.”
The Grim’s eyes flared, and for a heartbeat, I saw it: fear. True, unfiltered fear. But it vanished just as quickly, masked beneath cold calculation. She slammed her palms toward the ground, halting the blossoming foliage with her earth element. But that was all.
My brows lifted in mock defiance. I let out a sharp, bitter laugh as the air and water elements continued to roar around me, untouched by her interference. She couldn’t control them—not naturally. She had stolen those elements—ripping them from Professor Hogboom and Professor Reynoski, killing them to take what wasn’t hers.
The Grim snarled, her voice like broken glass. “Still idiotic and naïve as ever, I see. But I digress.” She cocked her head, a cruel smile curving her lips. “Let’s get to the reason I asked you here. I know you have the Mareki Key… and I brought you a little trade.”
With a flick of her cloak, she stepped aside.
Captain Thorne slumped against the stone wall behind her—barely conscious, if at all. His face was bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen shut. Linen gagged his mouth, and thick tungsten shackles bound his wrists, which lay useless in his lap. His head lolled forward, then back, like his strength had long since given out.
His blue eyes snapped open the moment he saw me. Captain Thorne shifted, dragging a knee under himself, trying to rise. But before he could get fully upright, the Grim lifted a hand.
A brutal wave of stolen air slammed into his chest, cracking him against the stone wall. The thud echoed like a hammer strike. He crumpled to the ground, limp once more, breath knocked from his lungs. But his eyes remained open and alert as his chest heaved.
I stood frozen as the Grim circled me like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.
“I know how much you despise this man, my dear,” she purred. “How much pain he’s caused you over the years.”
She stopped just behind me.
“I was there the day he walked out on you and my sister. Swore he’d never come back. All because of you. Their picture-perfect illusion shattered the moment you existed. Lily tried to get him to believe the truth, but he wouldn’t. He saw you as nothing more than the embodiment of her so-called betrayal. And even though you were just an innocent child, he lit the first spark in the chain of suffering that led to your capture.”
I expected Michael Thorne to fight against his restraints, to struggle, to prove her right. But he didn’t. He just sat there, shoulders slumped, eyes dimmed, letting the Grim’s words wash over him like a shroud of defeat.
“He orchestrated your interrogation,” she said coldly. “The day they dragged you from my class—his orders. His men used the illegal substance on you.”
Thorne’s head jerked toward her, confusion tightening his brow.
“They tried to break you. Beat you. Burned you. All so he could get the location of the Eternal Tomb for himself.”
His gaze snapped to mine. This time, there was a fire in it. His eyes widened, frantic. He slowly shook his head, jaw clenched tight around the linen gag.
“So here’s my offer,” she said, her voice smooth and venomous. “I brought you the man responsible for your darkest days—in exchange for the Mareki Key.” She stepped back around me, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “No one has to know,”she whispered, circling like a vulture. “You hand over the Key, and I’ll leave his fate in your hands. Call it… closure.”
