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“Very well, then,” she says. “Touch the ice, Aella.”

I stare down at the pool, its icy surface reflecting fragments of light that seem to shift with every breath I take. A war rages within me—part of me aches to turn and leave, to avoid whatever lies beneath. But the other part, the part that clings to Sphinx’s cryptic words, holds me frozen in place.

“If you don’t, those you hold dear will suffer for it,” the Oracle warns.

I step forward, each motion dragging new tension through the hollows of my chest. Dropping to my knees, I hesitantly reach out and let my fingers graze the icy surface.

And then the plunge takes me.

Chapter 44

Aella

I blink into the forming light of the vision, the veil of shadow parting to reveal stone walls and pillars. I’m standing in a chamber, a circular room with an archway at its center.

The goiteía gate in the Sorrows.

Kallias. He’s turned slightly, shoulders squared, his posture taut with a tension I’ve only seen him wear once or twice before. There’s a bruise blooming dark across his cheekbone, the angry purple trailing into the kohl-stained skin beneath his eye. His jaw is tight, lips pressed thin.

And he has guards restraining him on either side.

Maxim stands behind him, and like my brother, he is also being held back.

What in the gods’ names is happening here?

“I will not forgive you if you go through with this,” Kallias says. “I will never forgive you if she is harmed.”

The words land like iron, their edges biting against the stifling silence. I take a step forward, but, like the vision of my mother, neither Kallias nor Maxim reacts and their gazes remain locked on another figure in front of the gate.

The king. Our father.

He stands with an air of cold indifference, his fingers tracing idle patterns over the hilt of his sword at his waist. His expression is carved in stone, brows drawn tight and eyes gleaming with a sharpness that cuts the air as viciously as Kallias’s anger.

“You speak to me of harm,” the king says, “when you have already betrayed your duty by aligning with her so openly. Do not lecture me about forgiveness, Kallias. It is you who should be begging for it.”

Kallias’s fists curl at his sides, but the guards tighten their grip on him.

“Why are you so obsessed with this plan?” Kallias says, his voice giving way to frustration. “Aella is gone, Father. Can’t you let her find some measure of peace?”

“Peace is not a luxury afforded to those of our blood. Your sister left us in a precarious position, and she must atone for that.”

“Find another way,” Kallias demands.

“There is no other way. And in the grand scheme of things, your plaything is insignificant. She vowed to serve this kingdom, and serve it she shall,” the king declares, then he turns toward Maxim and displeasure twists his expression. “You would do well to remember your position too, boy. Defy me again, and I will not be so lenient.”

Maxim bows his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king’s eyes bore into him, then he draws a small blade from his belt and presses it against his fingertip until it draws blood. The guards drag Maxim forward, and the king raises an arm for one of them to take hold of before he touches his bloodied finger to the gate. In a blink, they vanish from the chamber.

Kallias stares after them until the guards beside him relinquish their grip.

One clears his throat. “Your hand, my prince?”

Kallias grits his teeth, offering a hand for the guard to slice before they, too, step through the gate.

I try to step closer, to follow, but before I can, the air shifts.

The stone chamber buckles into smoke, and I’m swallowed by darkness once more.