And throughout it all, mentions of tears. Crystal tears that sang with sorrow. Tears that fell like rain as heaven was chained to earth's ambitions.
The golden veins in my palm spread past my wrist now, creating patterns that looked almost like scales. Dragon scales. But underneath, if I looked carefully, I could see other patterns too. Fur. Feathers. Mountain stone.
All four marking me.
All four claiming me.
I closed the book, memorizing its weight, its texture, the way it smelled of ages and secrets. Tomorrow, I would burn itas Master Theron instructed. Tomorrow, I would return to my duties, my careful lies, my performance of obedience.
But tonight, in the restricted section where truth lived in shadows and margins, I let myself feel the full weight of what I was becoming.
Not just a Keeper.
Not just Pandora's heir.
Something new. Something that could choose differently.
Something that could break chains instead of maintaining them.
In the depths of my mind, four voices whispered approval.
Now you understand.
Now you see.
Now you choose.
Choose us.
And for the first time since my mother died, I whispered back, "I'm trying."
EIGHT
Aria
"Reinforce the seal." Natalia's command fell between us like a blade, sharp and final. "The Wolf's Heart shows signs of degradation. You will enter the Threshold and strengthen the binding."
I stood before the Gate at dawn, the ritual knife still bloody in my hand from the morning feeding. The ancient blade was warm against my palm, its weight familiar after five years of daily use. As soon as I had moved to wrap my hand Natalia had entered the sacred space.
The crack had grown overnight, spreading like disease through stone, a jagged fissure that branched and webbed across the Gate's shimmering surface. Golden light wept from its edges, pooling on the sanctified floor in patterns that looked almost like paw prints, each one glowing with an inner heat that made the air shimmer.
"The reinforcement ritual requires specific preparation—" I began, my voice steady despite the unease coiling in my stomach. The ritual demanded fasting, meditation, the proper cleansing rites. It couldn't be rushed without risk.
"No." Her grey eyes held something new. Something I never thought I'd see in them.
Desperation.
It was carefully controlled but visible to someone who'd spent twenty-five years learning to read her microexpressions. It was in the slight tightening at the corners of her mouth, the fractional widening of her pupils. "You will do it now. Immediately. The traditional methods are clearly insufficient."
She left without another word, her robes whispering against the stone floor, each footstep precise and measured. But the guards remained. Six of them today, when yesterday there had been two. Their hands rested on weapons that hummed with magic designed to suppress, to contain, to kill if necessary. I could feel the power radiating from their blades, taste the metallic tang of it on my tongue.
They weren't there to protect me from the princes.
They were there to protect everyone else from me.
The realization settled over me like ice water, and I had to force myself to take a measured breath. My fingers tightened on the ritual knife until the edge of the handle threatened to open up another wound. The pain was grounding and helped me keep my face composed even as my thoughts raced.
I pressed my palms against the Gate's surface, and reality folded like paper.
