"I should go." I stepped back, or tried to. In the Threshold, movement was more intention than action. "I need to report?—"
"Report what?" the phoenix prince asked. "That we're awake? She knows. That the Gate is failing? She knows that too. That you're changing? Oh, little Keeper, she knew that before you did."
"What do you mean, changing?"
They exchanged looks, even here, they communicated in glances and gestures born from centuries of shared imprisonment.
"Every Keeper before you maintained the prison," the dragon prince said finally. "You're unmaking it. Not through intention, but through nature. You're not meant to be a lock."
"You're meant to be a door," the wolf prince finished.
The words hit me in a way I wanted to deny, to recite doctrine and duty until they meant something again. But the golden light spreading through my veins whispered truth I couldn't unhear.
"I have to go."
This time, they let me. The Threshold released its hold, reality reasserting itself in a rush that left me gasping. I stood before the Gate, hands pressed against its cracked surface, golden light still weeping from its wounds.
Natalia waited exactly where I'd left her, those cold eyes studying me for any sign of corruption.
"Well?"
I could tell her everything. Their words, their claims, the way they'd made the Threshold itself show me impossible truths. I could warn her that the Gate wasn't holding, that our blood was feeding them, that everything we believed might be a lie.
Instead, I heard myself say, "The structural damage is significant but contained. The seals remain intact, though stressed. Regular monitoring will be required."
Technical truth wrapped in dangerous omission.
She studied me for a long moment, searching for the lie she couldn't quite taste.
"You will return tomorrow for another assessment."
"Yes, High Keeper."
"And Aria?" She used my name, rare enough to be a warning. "Remember that your mother's softness killed her. Don't follow her path."
I bowed, formal and precise, and left the Sanctorum with measured steps that betrayed nothing of the chaos in my mind.
But that night, alone in my quarters with only dead flowers for company, I pulled back the bandage on my palm. The golden veins had spread, creating patterns that looked almost like writing in a language I couldn't read.
And in the depths of my mind, four voices whispered questions I was afraid to answer.
What did they tell you we did to deserve this?
Why does it take Pandora's blood specifically?
You're not meant to be a lock.
You're meant to be a door.
SIX
Aria
The Threshold pulled at me the moment I entered, stronger than before, like drowning in reverse. Reality folded, twisted, became something else entirely. When it settled, I stood in that impossible space where physics went to die, but this time the chaos felt deliberate. Orchestrated.
They were waiting.
All four princes stood in a loose semicircle, and the weight of their combined attention pressed against my skin like storm pressure. The dragon prince, Kaelen, though I shouldn't know his name, dominated the center, those molten gold eyes tracking my every breath. Flynn, the wolf prince, prowled the edges, amber gaze never leaving my face. The bear prince, Thane, stood massive and still, brown eyes heavy with something that looked like sympathy. And Elias, the phoenix prince, danced between solid and smoke, copper hair shifting through shades that shouldn't exist.
