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“You alright?” he asks, squinting at me.

I nod slowly. Kalma has always been a kind man and a great advisor to my father, but I can’t tell if he’s in on this or not. Surely if he knew my mother was operating my father’s Shadow Self, he would do all he could to get my father back. He must not know the truth.

I open my mouth to try and tell him, but my instincts prevent me from making a sound. There’s something about Kalma’s gaze, a blankness and sheen to his eyes, that makes me think he might be under some kind of spell.

“I’m fine,” I say carefully. “I’ll go check on Sarvi when they get back.”

I brush past him as I walk the rest of the stairs.

“But Sarvi did get back already,” Kalma says. “Your father went and got them back…somehow.”

Somehow. My father can’t fly.

But my mother can.

I frown, that uneasy feeling back in my veins, sticky and cold. “So where is Sarvi?”

“In the Sect of the Undead,” Kalma says with a grave nod. “Your father is about to raise the Old Gods with Hanna by his side.”

My eyes go wide. “He’s about to dowhat?”

Kalma smiles, his face increasingly vacant. “Such a glorious day, isn’t it? A glorious day for the Old Gods to return.”

He shuffles up the stairs to Sarvi’s room, his robes dragging behind him.

I waste no time.

I look around for a weapon that could possibly do any harm to a demon, but anything remotely useful would either be in the crypt itself or in the Library of the Veils, and even I don’t have access to that room.

But if Sarvi is back and being held in the crypt, that means I have to act fast, never mind the part about the Old Gods. I just hope that’s something Kalma was exaggerating.

I take off, running down the hall and the levels of stairs, taking them two at a time until I finally get to the stairs to the crypt and the dungeons. The hallway is shrouded in darkness, lit only by glowing blue torches placed at even intervals along the stone walls. The floor is made of smooth, polished black marble that reflects the flickering light, giving the illusion of walking on water. High arched ceilings stretch above, adorned with intricate carvings of skulls and bones.

Here, I come face to face with Hanna.

For a moment, I think maybe I’ve been wrong about the whole thing. Perhaps this isn’t an imposter or twin at all, and maybe this actuallyisHanna. Maybe this was Hanna’s plan all along. After all, her father was a powerful Shaman. Maybe they arranged for him to be kidnapped and for Hanna to take his place, a way to infiltrate the Underworld right under our noses.

But even though I don’t know Hanna well, I know a girl from the Upper World when I see one, a mortal stuck in this world,part of a noble bargain. My father is smart, smart enough to see when someone is playing him, and the way Hanna acts around my father tells me she has true feelings for him.

That also means Hanna wouldn’t fall for my father’s Shadow Self.

Therefore, the person who’s standing in front of me with Hanna’s face isn’t her at all. Especially not when she smiles, with teeth sharper than they should be.

“Tuonen,” the not-Hanna says. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Is that so?” I ask, taking a step back.

“Yes,” she says, still smiling. She reaches out and grabs my arm, her dagger-like nails digging in through my top. “You’re looking rather delicious today.”

I swallow hard, wondering if punching her in the face would get me in trouble.

I try to take my arm from her grasp, but her nails dig in deeper until I feel them draw blood.

“Let go of me!” I bellow, finally ripping my arm from her hold, though her nails create a long tear in the fabric.

She just continues to grin at me and then takes her nails, wet with my blood, and slides them across her tongue.

Her black tongue.