I remember how betrayed I felt. How alone. She was my age, my friend, and she left for abetter opportunity.
In the crystal, I can see the seal on the letter. Stone Court silver.
Age seventeen: Thomas, the blacksmith’s son who used to help me patrol the walls—he’s conscripted into the Stone Court army. “Random selection,” they called it.
He was the closest thing I had to a friend after Mira left. After he was taken, I stopped trying to make friends at all. What was the point? Everyone left eventually.
The conscription order bears Karax’s signature.
Age eighteen: Elena, the merchant’s daughter who kept trying to talk to me—her family relocates after their farm is destroyed by a chaos-beast attack that targeted their land specifically.
I find the crystal showing the attack. The beast walked past three other farms to reach theirs. At the time, I thought it was strange. Thought maybe their livestock attracted it.
Now I see the truth. The beast wasdirected. Sent specifically to destroy the family of the only girl in Ironhold who still tried to befriend me.
One by one, everyone who might have stood beside me was removed. Bought off. Driven away. Conscripted. Every potential mentor, every possible friend, every person who might have made my burden lighter—systematically eliminated from my life.
And after each departure, there’s a crystal showing Karax watching.
Observing.
Taking notes.
Like a scientist tracking an experiment. Like a farmer culling a herd. Like a predator slowly, methodically, isolating the weakest member from the pack.
I was never the weakest. Hemademe the most alone.
I find a crystal from five years ago—a council meeting. Karax is there, speaking to Lord Greymun and the other council members. I can’t hear what they’re saying—the crystals only capture images, not sound—but I can read lips well enough.
“Increase pressure on Ironhold.”
“The tribute demands need to escalate.”
“She’s almost ready.”
She’s almost ready.
I was nineteen years old. I’d been defending the village alone for three years. I was exhausted, isolated, running on nothing but stubbornness and the desperate need to protect the people who depended on me.
And somewhere in this fortress, a council of ancient Fae was discussing when I would finally break.
The tribute demands weren’t about resources. They were never about resources. They were about forcing me into an impossible position, grinding me down year after year until I had nothing left, until invoking the blood debt law seemed like my only choice.
The blood debt law that would bind me to him forever.
I already knew he let me draw blood in the arena. He told me that himself, back when I thought it was almost romantic—the ancient Fae lord who wanted me so badly he broke his own rules to have me.
But this is different.
This is sixteen years of watching a child grow up. Sixteen years of killing her mentors, buying off her friends, driving away anyone who might have loved her. Sixteen years of engineering tragedy after tragedy, breaking her down piece by piece, until she was desperate enough to walk into a monster’s arena and call it choice.
He didn’t just let me wound him in that arena.
He spent sixteen years making sure I would have no other option.
I sit in the scrying room for a long time, surrounded by the evidence of my entire manufactured life.
The crystals glow softly around me, each one a window into a moment of suffering he orchestrated. My parents’ death—he didn’t cause it, he admitted that, but he made sure I survived it alone. Made sure the fever kept me home. Made sure I had no one to lean on when the grief threatened to drown me.
