He meets Maeve's eyes for a beat. She catches it and excuses herself, leaving us three alone.
"She responded, but not to kindness or love or all that unicorns-and-rainbows stuff," Kayden says. "I was…rough. Cruel, maybe. And I saw something crack in her. If love can't pull her back, perhaps the other end of us will. We go back to what she recognizes. Be the monsters she knows."
"What are you proposing, exactly?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"We lose the chains," Kayden says plainly. "Set her free. Let her choose if she wants to fight us to get out. But we don't come up until she's herself again."
Asher and I are silent long enough that the room feels smaller for it. "That's a slippery slope," I say at last. "A desperate gamble."
"Do we have a choice?" Kayden asks. His voice is blunt and tired. "If a host of satyrs comes through that door, we won't hold them long. What do we have to lose?"
"Aside from everything?" Asher's reply is immediate and hard.
Kayden meets Asher's gaze, expression steady. There is no mockery left, no swagger. "We can pray and hope that words that didn't work before will bring her back… or we act."
We hold the decision for a breath. Then Asher inclines his head. "We move as one front. She tried to split us. She won't expect unity."
"And it will allow her to fracture us if she can," I add, glancing at Kayden.
Kayden's nod is firm, all playfulness gone. "Yes. A front. Push her until she breaks toward us. Or until we break into what she fears most."
We rise together, the choice made.
Asher
As we descend, I try to form a plan—boundaries, contingencies, ways to contain what can't be predicted.
What Kayden suggested is vague. Too vague for my liking. But his instincts have saved us before, and this time I can't afford to dismiss them.
We've all seen flashes of the real Sage. Maybe this is the only way to reach her.
Or maybe it's madness.
The air grows colder as we near the basement.
She greets us with a smirk that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Group therapy? Or is this more of a spontaneous… reunion?" Her voice is sugar cut with razors. "If you're planning to serenade me, though, you're missing the fourth in your barbershop quartet."
"No songs, sunshine," Kayden says, his tone rough. "Just you and us." He glances at me once. Ready.
Together, we step forward and unfasten the locks. The chains fall away.
I move back immediately, giving her space but staying close enough to intercept. The weight in my gut tightens, anticipation and dread in equal measure.
She stands slowly, rubbing her wrists, gaze darting between us. The bravado's still there, but behind it there's something else. Hesitation, maybe, or wariness.
"What's this?" she asks, head tilting.
"You wanted to face us," Kayden says. "Head-on. And since brutality's the only language you seem to understand…" He grins, sharp and reckless. "Let's dance, dark nymph."
I watch her carefully, waiting for the strike.
But she doesn't move.
Her eyes track between us with calculation, and then she drifts toward Darius, her movements slow and serpentine.
"Well," she purrs, "a new strategy. Lovers united. How touching. The three pathetic musketeers."
