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His eyes glinted with something vast, something unfathomable—like the depths of a dark sea, hiding monsters beneath the surface. And yet, his smile was welcoming, as if he were inviting her to step closer, to lean in and ignore the danger just beneath.

“Choice is an illusion, Taly. You prefer Taly, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Not because you don’t pick, but because the picking’s already been done for you. It always astounds me, the way mortals talk about free will. Like it’s some shining birthright. But it’s more like a menu—you choose from what’s in front of you. And sometimes what’s in front of you is… me.”

He was a fascinating combination of riddles, narcissism, and entitlement. Taly couldn’t look away.

“You’re looking much better than the last time we met. Less likely to keel over. How are the lungs?”

“Better,” she said. “Thanks for the warning, by the way.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Though I could’ve done without the mad dash for our lives through the forest.”

“That was Luck, I’m afraid. She wasn’t happy you destroyed her dreamscape.”

“And I’m sure you did everything you could to stop her.”

“Within reason.” Taly raised a brow. “You did shoot me in the head, darling. And Luck’s dreams are very… realistic.” He grimaced.

Towering above, Lachesis’ gaze cast eternally forward, solemn and resolute.

“What do you think?” he asked of the statue. “I saw you admiring it. It’s quite a striking likeness. Not so much the chin, but everything else is pretty spot on. She used to stand in the heart of the Syballine Timekeep. Time mages from every corner of the realms would come to worship at her feet. If you’re moved to adoration, feel free to indulge. The pull in your blood is not for me to judge.”

It wasn’t a pull so much as a lingering sense of awareness. The statue’s eyes—they weren’t focused on her, but she still felt their weight. As if there was a presence there, beneath the stone, and it was giving her its attention.

She knew that gods and goddesses were real—Azura had confirmed that. And she knew, somehow, with equal conviction, that there was a kind of power in that which was ancient. Objects that stood the test of time, absorbing centuries of energy, both sacred and profane.

Whether that energy was what she was feeling right now, standing in the shadow of Lachesis… she didn’t know. It could’ve been an echo of the past, could’ve been indigestion… “I’ll pass,” she said.

He looked at her. Then his face lit up with realization. “Oh, I see. Playing hard to get. Smart.”

Taly shook her head. Trying to understand the strange things he said wasn’t worth the effort—and there were more important questions.

“In the forest, how did you know I was going to be sick?” she asked. “How… did you know to serve me my family’s wine? You knew who I was before I did.”

“Why, my dear, how could I not? Just look at you! You have your mother’s face, and your father’s… lack of tact.”

“You knew my parents?” Taly asked.

“And his habit of parroting the obvious. Good thing you also inherited his capacity for aether, or you’d be of no use to me. And that is a dangerous place to be for one so… mouthy.” His face remained pleasant, but danger lingered beneath—like silk wrapped around a blade. “As to your… malady? That was easy. I could hear the wheezing. Wet, unsettled, like a primordial rattle in the depths. Aether sickness is more of a… drygaspfor air in an endless void.”

Luck reappeared, balancing a tray on one hand. Aneirin plucked up both glasses and handed one to Taly, ever the gracious host.

She sipped. It was good. The vodka was smooth, the hint of sweetness from the syrup not too overpowering. Between this, the delivery of champagne, the weird blind date at the dream tavern…

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to…”

“What, darling?”

Taly looked at him. “… woo me?”

“Oh, that’s because I am.”

“But…why? I was out cold in the forest. You could’ve just…”

“Forced you into my employ?” he supplied. Taly nodded. “Well, yes, that would’ve been easier. But I’d prefer not to jump to drastic measures until we’ve exhausted all options. It’s simple really. This works better if you’re willing.”

He finished his drink and set the empty glass at the feet of Lachesis. Glass clinked, beads of condensation trailing down to pool on the marble, soaking into the porous stone. “The Rite of Ascension, which is a wonderful bit of spellcraft, by the way—shadow mages used to be creatures of such fearsome elegance, and then you justneuteredthem with political red tape. Historical tragedies aside,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand,“ascension takes an unfortunate toll on the target’s capacity to hold aether. I need you intact if you’re to open the Aion Gate for me. Otherwise, it’s likely to rip you to shreds. And while a dead time mage can be useful in certain situations, it won’t do me any good here.”

Aneirin smiled, as if this was all perfectly reasonable. “You see my predicament.”

Taly didn’t smile back. Oh, she saw it. Even if he forced her to open the Aion Gate, he’d still need a way back. Two trips minimum, and that meant keeping her breathing.