Her fingers brushed Esther’s jaw, warm and feather-light—checking, not threatening.
“I’m… fine?” Esther murmured, dizzy with confusion.
Lucy kicked uselessly, rattling her chains.
“Stop struggling, you’ll hurt yourself!” Zaria scolded. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” Lucy shrieked—until Zaria stuffed a rag in her mouth.
“I’m sorry, but you’re giving me a headache, and I need to explain things to Princess Esther.”
Princess.The word hit like a stone dropped in Esther’s chest.
Zaria turned back to her with surprising tenderness.
“You look just like your mother.”
Esther’s throat tightened.
“Let me guess—my mother left a message for me with you?”
“You’re very astute,” Zaria said warmly.
Lucy mumbled furiously through her gag.
“What? No, I didn’t give myself away,” Esther told her.
“She already knew who I was.”
Lucy made a pointed noise.
“Well, I guess I did—but my mom has this whole building-an-army-of-supporters-after-she-died thing—”
Zaria burst into laughter.
“You two are ridiculous. How are you understanding what she says?”
“We’ve been together a long time,” Esther said.
“She basically has twin telepathy—aw, don’t get mushy on me, Lucy—fine, I’ll ask. She wants to know why we should trust you.”
Zaria’s expression softened into something heartfelt.
"Simple. Your mother left me with her memory to show you.”
She lifted her sleeve and offered her bare wrist.
“This is what she left for you.”
A faint gold glow bled beneath her skin—then erupted outward, a tidal wave of light and heat. It slammed into Esther’s chest, wrenching a scream from her throat.
Esther’s pulse thundered in her ears.
Every instinct screamed at her to pull back, brace herself, run—all useless impulses bound and bleeding against iron and stone. Her magic stirred weakly in response, recognizing the gold glow with aching familiarity.
Mother.
Whatever this was, it wasn’t just memory.
