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“Nooo!”

Then Cori was there, moving faster than thought, launching herself at the keeper like a battering ram. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and rage.

“I can’t believe you! You dumb, Shard-sucking, son of a—gah!”

She came out on top, fists flying, slamming punch after punch into his chest. And he… let it happen, for the most part. There wasn’t much she could do with just her fists.

“This was not part of the agreement!” Cori shrieked. Another hit. Then another. His other-self didn’t even flinch. “I said you could talk to him! With me in the room!”

His other-self spread his hands, utterly relaxed despite the onslaught. “Tell me where I violated the rules.”

Cori froze mid-pummeling. He had her there. Then her face flushed crimson with rage, her temper erupting in a surge of golden aether, whipping into a storm that nearly tore apart the tower.

But she got her key. The keeper tossed it to her across the room as she half-carried, half-dragged a limping Skye through the door.

“You’re a dead man,” she promised.

“Bite me,” the keeper growled, baring his teeth to reveal sharp fangs.

Skye cracked one eye open—and regretted it instantly. Light slashed through his vision, sending another bolt of agony through his skull.Fuck.

Somehow, he got himself upright. His neck protested with a sharp, white-hot stab of pain. He exhaled through his teeth and took stock of the room. The clock on the wall read 4bells. What day, though? He felt like he’d been asleep for ages.

He attempted to stand. The floor tilted precariously, and he gripped the edge of the bed, waiting for the world to right itself. His body felt alien, both sluggish and strangely…charged.

Something shifted between his shoulder blades. A new, unfamiliar weight pressed against his spine.

Blood drained into metal pans. The bone saw whined.

Skye wasn’t sure if the liquor was helping or making things worse. Even if his mind managed to seize on the sheer,overwhelming wrongness of it all—just as fast, the thought was gone.

His nerves fired at random, muscles twitching without his permission.

A chisel—at least, that’s what it felt like—pressed against bone, tapping, carving, making space. The vibration rattled through his skull, down his spine, a foreign pressure shifting things that shouldn’t be moved.

Then something crawled inside him.

A creeping pressure worked its way through his back—thin, needling strands slithering beneath his skin, wrapping around his nerves like roots searching for purchase. Every inch they claimed sent fresh fire through his limbs.

Skye approached the mirror on the back wall.

He didn’t look any different. At least, he didn’t think so. No new scars, no bruises, no swelling despite feeling like he just came limping back from a losing fight.

Pulling at his waistband, he sighed with relief. Everything important was still intact.

He wasn’t sure what the keeper had done, not exactly. The memories were a jumbled mess of pain, distorted images, and snatches of conversation that made no sense. Words like “building blocks” and “potential” floated in the haze, but they felt… disconnected.

“Good, you’re up.”

Skye turned to find Taly standing in the doorway. A very human-looking Taly. Yet even through the glamour, he knew that this Taly was his. The bond rejoiced at her nearness, a resounding chorus compared to Cori’s fading echo.

She looked beautiful. Her hair had been gathered at the nape, curled, pinned, and woven with red ribbons to match her gown’s rich, gauzy fabric. Swathes of it banded around her torsoin artful convolutions, embracing all those lovely curves while leaving whispers of skin delightfully bare. From a cinched waist, gauzy, red skirts bled to white near her feet.

I watched her tear through armies like they were made of paper.

He locked his jaw, exhaling slowly. That future wasn’t real. And it never would be.

Taly’s brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”