Three seals broken. Only one remained.
The Phoenix's Ash was already fracturing, could shatter at any moment. And when it did...
"When it does," I said to Natalia, to the Council, to everyone assembled to watch my binding, "they'll be free. And you'll have to face the consequences of a thousand years of torture. A thousand years of lies. A thousand years of betrayal."
"We'll implement the Last Seal before that happens," Natalia said, but her voice shook. "We'll drain every drop of your blood if necessary."
"No," Thane said simply. "You won't."
He stepped more fully through the Gate, solidifying with each movement. Not completely free, the Phoenix's Ash still held him partially, but present enough. Real enough.
And he wasn't alone.
Through cracks in reality that shouldn't exist, other figures began to emerge. Not the princes, not yet, but others. Membersof the Order of Truth, people I didn't recognize but who moved with purpose. Some wore Keeper grey but with different symbols. Others wore no uniform at all.
Master Theron stood among them, standing tall and unafraid.
"The binding ritual is corrupted," he announced, voice carrying the authority of absolute certainty. "The Council acts without proper authority. The last true Council died with Pandora herself."
"Traitors," Ethan spat. "All of you, traitors and?—"
His words cut off as Thane moved again, faster than something his size should be able to move. Not to attack, but to protect. To stand between me and those who would harm me.
"Not traitors," he rumbled. "Truth-speakers. And the truth is this, your time is ending. The age of prison is over."
Through our connection, I felt the Phoenix's Ash beginning to give way. Not long now. Minutes, maybe less.
The dawn light streaming through the windows turned gold, then white, then colors that shouldn't exist.
And in that impossible light, I stood on legs that shouldn't hold me, kept alive by princes who shouldn't be able to reach me, defying a Council that thought they controlled my fate.
"The binding ritual," I said, my voice carrying despite its roughness. "I refuse it. I refuse you. I refuse everything you represent."
"You don't have a choice—" Natalia started.
"I do, though." I met her grey eyes without flinching. "That's what terrifies you. For the first time in a thousand years, someone is choosing. Not following prophecy, not obeying duty, not accepting the lie. But choosing."
The Phoenix's Ash cracked audibly, reality itself groaning.
"And I choose them."
TWENTY-SIX
Aria
"Take her alive!" Natalia's command cracked like a whip through the chaos, cutting through the din of clashing steel and shouted orders that echoed off the ancient stone walls. Her voice carried the absolute authority of decades of command, the kind of voice that had sent hundreds of Keepers to their deaths in the name of duty.
Guards surged forward in a coordinated wave, their suppression blades drawn and gleaming with the sickly green light of null-magic enchantments. But Master Theron materialized at my side before they could reach me, moving faster than his stooped frame should have allowed.
Two figures flanked him, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods of rough-spun wool that cast their features in impenetrable shadow. He gripped my arm with surprising strength for someone his age, his gnarled fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise, steadying me as my legs threatened to buckle beneath the weight of exhaustion and terror.
"They're from the Order of Truth," he whispered, his urgent breath warm against my ear, carrying the familiar scent of chamomile tea and old parchment. "If you're willing, we canget you out of here. Away from the Citadel, away from all of this madness. But you must trust me now, child. We have only moments before they close the net completely."
One of the hooded figures shifted, and beneath the rough-spun cloak, I glimpsed a face I recognized with startling clarity. The pregnant woman from Oakhaven, the one who'd wanted to name her child after me, whose belly was round with new life even now. Her eyes met mine, wide with something caught between fear and reverence, the kind of desperate faith that made my chest ache with unworthiness.
"You saved us," she breathed, barely audible over the sounds of combat erupting around us, steel on steel creating a discordant symphony. "Now let us save you. Let us prove we're worthy of the gift you gave."
The other figure pushed back their hood slightly, revealing weathered features I also recognized. The baker's widow, Marcus's wife, her face lined with years of hard work and harder grief. Her weathered face was set with grim determination, the same expression I imagined she wore when kneading bread before dawn each morning. "We've been hiding in the forgotten passages, the old servant quarters they sealed off decades ago when they decided even our touch would corrupt their precious purity. Twenty-four of us, all witnesses to what you truly are. All of us ready to testify to the truth they've tried so hard to bury."
