The air in the chamber had curdled, thick with the cloying scent of sandalwood and the sharp, metallic tang of my own adrenaline. I didn't lower the dagger. If anything, my grip tightened until the leather hilt bit into my palm and my knuckles turned the same ghostly white as my porcelain mask.
"I don't weep," I spat. The lie tasted like iron on my tongue. "I do what is necessary to survive. Now answer me—how do you know that name?"
The stranger took a slow, predatory step forward. He didn't move with the stiff, practiced gait of a palace guard; he moved with the fluid grace of a hunter who had already scented the kill.
"Names have power, little shadow," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to thrum in the floorboards. "Especially names buried under piles of bodies and Hive contracts. You were Lysia of the High-Valleys long before you were the Reaper. You were a daughter before you were a weapon."
I felt the world tilt on its axis. My past was a scorched landscape, a memory I had cauterized years ago to keep the infection of grief from rotting me from the inside out.
"That girl is dead," I whispered, my voice fracturing despite the steel I tried to lace it with. "Califer killed her."
"Califer didn't kill her. He just put her in a cage and taught her to bite," the stranger countered. He stopped just out of striking distance, the flickering hearth fire dancing in his golden irises. "My name is Silas. And I know your name because I was the one tasked to protect your family the night the Hive came for them. I arrived too late for your parents... but I've been looking for the girl who disappeared into the smoke ever since."
The dagger in my hand trembled, a microscopic vibration I couldn't suppress. A trick, my training screamed. A psychological play to disarm the target. "You're lying," I snarled. "The Royal Guard didn't come. No one came. We were left to the fire."
"I am not a Royal Guard," Silas said. He reached for his collar, pulling back the heavy fabric to reveal a brand seared into his collarbone—a sun being swallowed by a silver wing. "I am a Shield of the Unseen. We don't serve the Crown; we serve the balance. And right now, Lysia, you are the heaviest weight on the scales."
He stepped closer, bold enough to press his chest nearly against the point of my blade. He didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He looked like a man who would gladly let me plunge the steel into his heart if it meant I'd finally listen.
"My turn," he reminded me, his gaze unwavering. "The Hive is preparing for something larger than a merchant's debt or a princess's head. What is Califer really looking for in the Dresvan vaults?"
I looked at him—really looked at him. This man was a ghost from a life I wasn't allowed to remember. I should kill him. I should run. I should whistle for Kaelen and watch the Hive's enforcers tear this room apart.
Instead, my arm felt leaden. The dagger lowered.
"He's not looking for gold," I said, the words feeling like a jagged betrayal of the only home I had left. "He's looking for the Aegis Scroll. He thinks the princess has the key to the Old King's armory."
Silas's expression darkened, the warmth of the fire seemingly drained from his face in an instant. "If he gets his hands on that, the Hive won't just run the docks and the alleys. They'll run the kingdom. They'll have the power to unmake the world as we know it."
"I know," I said, the weight of the mask suddenly feeling like a thousand pounds of stone against my skin. I reached up, my fingers brushing the cold, smooth edge of the porcelain. "Why let me go?" I asked, the question I had been carrying like a hidden bruise since our first clash. "In the garden... you had the killing blow. Why spare a monster?"
Silas reached out, his hand hovering near my masked cheek, close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin, though he didn't touch me. "Because I didn't see a monster. I saw a girl who was fighting herself harder than she was fighting me."
A sharp, shrill whistle pierced the night air from the gardens below—a scout's signal. The Hive's search party was closing in, their torches beginning to orange the horizon of the estate walls.
"Go," Silas urged, his hand dropping. "If they find you here with me, there is no version of this story where you live to see tomorrow."
"This isn't over, Silas," I said, backing toward the balcony, the wind catching my cloak.
"I'm counting on it," he replied.
I vaulted over the railing, disappearing into the thick ivy just as the first torchlight flickered against the stone. My heart was no longer hammering with the cold fear of the hunt; it was racing with something far more volatile.
Hope.
I hit the ground in a silent roll and sprinted toward the treeline, my mind a whirlwind. If Silas was right, everything Califer had told me was a lie built on the ashes of my family. I reached the rallying point near the old well, where Kaelen stood waiting, his eyes scanning the darkness.
"You're late," Kaelen hissed, his hand on his sword. "The scouts said they heard voices in the east wing. Did you find the girl?"
I looked at Kaelen—my brother in arms, my mentor's shadow—and for the first time, I saw the Hive emblem on his shoulder not as a badge of honor, but as a brand.
"She wasn't there," I lied, my voice steady, the mask hiding the spark of rebellion in my eyes. "Just ghosts, Kaelen. Let's move before the Guard wakes up."
As we retreated into the safety of the shadows, I felt the phantom weight of the Aegis Scroll pressing down on me. The hunt had changed. I was no longer the Reaper seeking a soul; I was the prey seeking the truth. And for the first time in ten years, I knew exactly who I had to kill next.