Madame Viscera claps once, the sound sharp in the tomb’s silence. “The power responds to genuine belief. Your mother spent years learning to find the truth in fraudulent contracts. You—“ She points at me with one gnarled finger. “You already know what’s true. You just have to learn to speak it loud enough for the magic to hear.”
“How?”
“Practice. Time. Neither of which you have.” She moves to a shelf, rummages through bottles and boxes, pulls out a small vial of something that glows faintly green. “This will help with his wounds. Won’t heal him completely—nothing short of a week’s rest will do that—but it’ll keep him functional.”
I take the vial. “What do you want for it?”
“Nothing.” She waves a hand. “Maren paid for it fifteen years ago. Consider it part of her estate.”
My throat tightens. My mother, planning ahead. Leaving resources for a daughter she knew would one day need them. I hand the vial to Rathok.
“What else did she leave?”
“Information.” Madame Viscera settles into a chair made of compressed contract-paper, her old bones creaking. “The Ledger Master’s founding contract is in the Vault, yes. But getting to the Vault requires going through the throne room. And the room—“ Her expression shifts. Something almost like pity. “The throne room is where he keeps his weapons.”
“Weapons?”
“People. Transformed. Like that golem, but worse—because they chose to be what they are.” She leans forward. “Your brother, child. He offered himself to the Ledger Master to save you. Willingly. And the Master accepted.”
The air leaves my lungs.
I knew Gror was being transformed—the marks on my arm told me that much, and Rathok confirmed it. Butwillingly.My idiot, selfless, stupid brother walked into the Ledger Master’s hands andvolunteeredto be rewritten. To save me.
“If rumor is correct, he’s the Hall’s guardian.” Madame Viscera’s voice is gentle, which somehow makes it worse. “His will is bound to the Master’s purpose. He won’t recognize you.Won’t remember you. He’ll try to stop you, and he’ll have the power to do it.”
“There’s got to be a way to change him back.”
“Truth-speaking doesn’t work on the willing.” She shakes her head. “Your mother tried—spent years trying to free people who’d chosen to be bound. The magic can only void fraud. It can’t undo genuine agreement, no matter how desperate the circumstances that led to it.”
“But if I destroy the Ledger Master?—“
“Then the contracts he holds might void themselves. Might.” Madame Viscera emphasizes the word. “It depends on how they were constructed. Some will release when he falls. Others—the ones built on genuine consent—might hold forever.”
Rathok’s hand closes on my shoulder. Heavy. Steadying.
“One problem at a time.” His voice is rough, but stronger than it was. The vial’s contents must be working—some color returning to his skin, some steadiness to his stance. “First we reach the throne room then the Vault. Find the founding contract. You speak truth over it, destroy the Ledger Master’s power at its source. Then we deal with Gror.”
“To reach the Vault, you’ll have to face what your brother has become.” Madame Viscera stands, moves toward the curtained back of her stall. “The throne room is his domain now. The Master put him there specifically—because he knows you’ll come. Because he knows the one thing that might stop a truth-speaker is family.”
“It won’t stop me.”
“No?” She pauses at the curtain. Looks back over her shoulder. “Your mother said the same thing, child. Right before she overreached—right before the Ledger Master found a way to get close enough to poison her.”
The words hang in the tomb’s stale air.
“There’s a path.” Madame Viscera pushes through the curtain and gestures for us to follow. “Through the deep catacombs. Below even the Vault. It will take you into the throne room from beneath — avoid most of the defenses. Give you a chance to reach the contract before the Master realizes you’re coming.”
Behind the curtain, a doorway yawns in the bone wall — stairs spiraling down into absolute blackness. The air that climbs up is ancient. Not merely cold.
Used.
“Down there?” I stare into the void.
Her gaze drops to the darkness.
“The Forsworn Deep.”
The words settle heavily, as though they do not like being spoken.
