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“Kairó vuun’manii?”

Taly’s breath hitched, and the sob escaped before she even realized it was there.

Calcifer growled, his tail swishing. His paws tapped the boardwalk as he lurched back and forth uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” Sarina said to the frantic mimic. “I can’t see anything either.”

Skye could see. In his face, it was there—recognition.

His eyes zeroed in on the nightmare that had somehow crossed over into the waking world, and his body tensed for the fight.

The creature moved, the shuffle of its malnourished frame unnervingly silent against the damp wood of the boardwalk. Thefaint light of the water crystals set into the columns caught on its jagged edges, highlighting the gaping voids in its face.

Taly couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. The monster’s gaze locked on her, golden eyes unblinking. It didn’t waver—not once. All that terrible focus, aimed right at her.

Still trying to find her breath, she roughly tugged up her sleeve to see the words Ivain had tattooed for her.

Can you read this?

Yes, she could and—fuck!

With a grotesque, deliberate motion, it reached up, skeletal fingers curling around the crown perched atop its battered head. The metal gleamed faintly—dull, tarnished—as though it had been pulled from the depths of the same ruin she’d just left behind.

“I dreamed of you.”

The melody had rotted. Now, each word rasped like bone across stone, cracked and weathered with age.

“All those years spent sleeping in the dark, I dreamed of you.”

It lowered the crown carefully, almost reverently, before setting it on the damp wood between them. The movement was smooth, calculated, as if it were placing an offering. Or a demand.

“For my third gift,” it croaked, “as is the tradition, I give you the Vis’hallan. The dawn itself shall be the symbol of your reign.”

Taly’s pulse thundered, her eyes locked on the crown. There was something about it—something…alive. The metal thrummed with presence, like a soul trapped beneath the surface, pressing to be seen.

Then Skye shifted.

Without a word, he stepped forward, his body angling to shield her. His shadow loomed over the crown, cutting off the monster’s direct line of sight.

The creature hissed, and its eyes snapped to Skye.

The tension in the air thickened, the space between them brimming with an unspoken challenge.

Skye didn’t flinch. “You can’t have her.” His voice was low and edged with steel. “Get out.”

The monster regarded him. For a moment, it seemed to weigh the risk. Then it grinned, pale lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth.

It didn’t retreat. It simply faded, the edges of its form dissolving into the dark, as though the shadows had claimed it as one of their own. The air grew still, the oppressive weight of its presence lifting—mostly.

The crown remained, gleaming on the wet wood.

Chapter 49

In hindsight, Ivain got carried away building the townhouse. With glasswork from Eya, hardwoods from Arcadia, marble from Midgard, and furniture custom commissioned from the colorful array of local artisans who had flocked to Tempris before the Schism—the expense was enormous, the land costing almost as much as the construction. But it was a gift, he’d told himself. Told his wife too when she’d just laughed and shook her head. His baby sister had fallen in love with a Lowborn, and in doing so lost the support of their family. So, he’d taken it upon himself to give the couple their start.

After Madoc died, Sarina returned the house, unable to bear staying in a place where she’d been so happy for so many years. The rooms were cleared out, wiped clean of any lingering memories. A few, Ivain claimed for his own.

The ballroom became a training hall.