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I grab his chin, yanking his face toward mine, forcing him to see me.

"Did it?" I snap.

A single, dark chuckle slips from his lips.

He lets go.

The relic hits the stone floor with a resounding clang, the magic inside it screeching, twisting, unraveling into the air like a dying thing.

Zephiran shudders, a sharp exhale breaking from his throat.

I realize?—

I just saved him.

Or maybe, I just fucking damned us both.

The vault doors groan.

Unhurried. Measured.

Just shifting.

Like something else wants to come through.

Zephiran staggers to his feet, one hand braced against the stone wall, the other running through his disheveled hair, still trembling, still wrong.

I stand too, my body thrumming with tension, with the sharp, cutting edge of something I don’t dare to name.

The relic is still on the ground between us, its glow fading, its magic retreating.

Zephiran straightens, exhaling slow, measured, as if testing the strength of his own voice.

"That was a mistake," he mutters.

I narrow my eyes. "Which part?"

A beat of silence follows.

His gaze flicks to me.

"All of it."

I can’t even process the words before the torches flicker.

The atmosphere drops to freezing.

A voice that does not belong to either of us laughs.

Low. Amused.

The vault doors burst open.

The shadows outside spill in like ink.

I realize—this was never about the relic.

This was about the moment we thought we had won.