"Tell her nothing," Elias sang. "Let her see what she expects to see. The blind cannot perceive light, no matter how brightly it burns."
"Or," Kaelen said, stepping close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, "tell her the truth. See how quickly those who preach duty abandon you when you become inconvenient."
The Threshold began to shift, reality reasserting itself. Our time was ending. But before it could fully expel me, Kaelen caught my face between his hands. His touch burned, dragon fire meeting whatever was changing in my blood.
"Read your histories, little Keeper. Not the Chronicle they give children, but the real records. Hidden, suppressed, buried in archives they think no one remembers." His thumbs traced my cheekbones, leaving trails of heat. "Look for mentions of Pandora's tears. Of crystal falling like rain. Of a woman who begged forgiveness even as she spoke damnation."
"Why?"
"Because once you know the truth, really know it, you'll have to choose." His forehead pressed against mine, and for a moment I felt the full weight of his existence, centuries of rage and pain and terrible hope. "And I think you're already choosing, whether you admit it or not."
The Threshold expelled me with enough force to send me stumbling backward. I caught myself against the Gate, palmsflat against its cracked surface. Golden light pulsed between my fingers, and for one terrifying moment, the crack widened.
Natalia stood exactly where I'd left her, but her eyes weren't on my face. They were fixed on my hands, on the golden light visible even through my skin.
"The Gate is corrupting you."
Not a question. A statement. Cold and final as winter.
"The connection required to assess the damage?—"
"Is changing you." She circled me slowly, predator-careful. "I can see it in your eyes. They're brighter. More... other."
"I can maintain control."
"Can you?" She stopped directly in front of me. "Your mother said the same thing. Right before the Gate consumed her."
The lie came so easily it frightened me. "I'm not my mother."
"No," Natalia agreed. "You're something else. Something I haven't decided how to handle yet."
The threat in her words was barely veiled. I was useful as long as I could stabilize the Gate. The moment I became more problem than solution...
"You'll continue your assessments," she said finally. "But you'll report to me immediately after each one. Any changes, any progression of this... corruption... will be documented."
"Yes, High Keeper."
She studied me for another long moment, and I felt like a specimen being evaluated for dissection.
"Go. Rest. Tomorrow's assessment will be more intensive."
I bowed and left, walking with measured steps that betrayed nothing of the chaos in my mind. But once I reached the corridor, once I was sure she couldn't see, I ran.
The golden light in my veins pulsed with each step, marking me as surely as any brand.
I was changing.
But into what?
SEVEN
Aria
The archives at midnight held a different quality of silence than during the day. Not the productive quiet of scholarship, but something watchful, as if the books themselves knew they were being disturbed outside their proper hours. I'd slipped through the servants' passages, avoiding the night guards who'd grown predictable in their routes after years of no real threats. My bare feet made no sound on the cold stone, and I'd left my Keeper's robes behind for a simple shift that wouldn't rustle with each movement.
The restricted section lay behind an iron gate that supposedly required three keys to open. But Master Theron had shown me years ago how the lock had rusted in one particular spot, how the right amount of pressure in the right place would make the tumblers fall without any key at all.
The gate opened with a whisper of protest, and I slipped through into the maze of forgotten knowledge.
