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The rifle kicks. In the scope, I watch him jerk once, then crumble—hand pressed to the spreading red across his chest. His body hits the sand like something holy breaking.

And I break with it.

The memory continues, but now the stone is projecting my emotions during that kill. Everyone here feels the cold calculation, the lack of hesitation, the professional detachment I wrapped around my heart to make the shot possible. They feel how easy it was for me to destroy the person my cousin loved most.

And then it gets worse.

Weeks later, Vanessa calls me.

She’s crying so hard she can’t breathe. “Ash... he’s just... gone. I can’t feel him through the bond. I don’t understand—can you help me? Please. Help me find him.”

My throat closes, feeling the weight of what I know crushing my chest.

I can’t tell her the truth. Can’t say “I killed him” when she’s already falling apart.

But I can’t lie either.

“I’m sure you’ll find answers,” I finally manage. At least that’s not technically false.

“I’m going to search for him. Every realm, every underworld, every pocket dimension. He has to be somewhere.”

Ice spreads through my veins. “V, maybe you should?—”

“No. He wouldn’t just abandon me. Something happened to him. Someone took him.” Her voice hardens with desperatedetermination. “I’m going to find him, Ash. Even if I have to tear apart every hell that exists.”

The memory escalates, showing months of Vanessa’s desperate search while I stayed silent. Each call is torture—listening to her exhaust herself searching for someone who isn’t lost, someone who’s dead because of me. The stone forces everyone to experience my guilt, my inability to comfort the cousin I love most while she grieves for the man I killed.

Finally, the devastating conclusion:

“A reaper, Ash. He became a reaper. All those months I spent in hell looking for him... he was already there. Working. Transformed.”

My entire body goes numb.

“V, I?—”

“Who would do this? Who would kill someone and force them to become a reaper?”

The question hits like a blade between my ribs because I know exactly who does that.

Someone who makes decisions about other people’s lives without consulting them.

Me.

The memory cuts off abruptly, leaving me screaming on the dais. Not just from the magical violation but from the emotional devastation of reliving it. My entire body convulses as the stone’s invasion recedes, leaving me feeling like I’ve been turned inside out.

Blood streams from my nose, my ears, even the corners of my eyes where capillaries have burst from magical strain. My hands are locked around the stone, fingers cramped and bleeding where my nails have dug into my palms.

In the gallery, gasps and cries echo through the chamber. Several Seelie Fae have fainted from experiencing the emotionalprojection directly. Others weep openly, overwhelmed by the depth of guilt and self-hatred the stone forced them to feel.

But the worst part isn’t the audience reaction. It’s the silence from where my bonds sit.

Can’t look at them. Can’t bear to see the exact moment they realize I’m not who they thought I was. That I’m just... broken.

When I finally lift my head, I catch a glimpse of Kieran’s face. He’s gone completely white, pale eyes wide with something that might be horror. His shadows writhe with such violence that frost spreads across the stone floor in jagged patterns, the geometric designs screaming his emotional state to everyone present.

“How utterly fascinating,” Lady Amarantha purrs, violet eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. “Our royal candidate possesses such an exquisite capacity for intimate betrayal. The artistry of it is almost... inspiring.”

The wordbetrayalechoes through the chamber, and I feel something inside me crack. Not just break—shatter. Because she’s right. I am a betrayer. I killed someone innocent and then couldn’t even offer comfort to the woman I love most when she grieved for him.