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Ivain stalked for the liquor cabinet. He felt restless. His blood still sang with the thrill of battle, the thirst for vengeance unquenched. Killing that man wasn’t enough. Removing his soul and scattering it to the wind—denying him the comfort of an afterlife, the chance to be reborn—even that still felt like a gross denial of justice.

His mind churned with plans, each more ruthless than the last. He’d never liked the Sanctorum, but they had made an enemy this day.

He made a vow. He would root them out, expose them for the cowards they were, and ensure they faced the full measure of his wrath. He didn’t care how long it took. He would see their Conclave burned to the ground.

Ivain poured himself a finger of liquor from a bottle that was already half-empty. “I see you helped yourself.”

“Always do,” she answered, lifting her glass.

He downed his glass, savoring the burn. Any other day, under any other circumstances, he would’ve taken to the forest to run, not stopping until he hit the ocean. The water would be frigid, but he’d wade out until the roar of the surf finally cooled the molten rage heating his bones.

But right now, he didn’t have the forest or the ocean. He had shitty booze distilled from corn and flavored to taste like whiskey. Pouring himself another, he figured it would have to do.

Moving to the fireplace, he claimed the seat beside her. For a while, he simply stared into the flames.

“You could’ve stopped it,” he finally said. “Why didn’t you?”

Cori’s eyes remained closed. “It wasn’t my place.”

“Don’t do that,” Ivain seethed quietly.

The frown came first. Then her eyes opened.

“Oh, come on,” he snapped. “After all these years, do you really think I can’t see through your bullshit?” He was shaking,caught somewhere between grief and fury. “If you’re so intent to meddle, if you’re already changing things that were never your place to change, then why not this? Why couldn’t you have spared yourself this? Spared us all?”

She snorted. “While I’m flattered at how much faith you seem to have in me, some things must happen. Some thingsalwayshappen. And I learned a long time ago not to waste my time trying to outrun the inevitable.”

The words were matter-of-fact, plain and pragmatic. Ivain finally looked at her. Really looked.

She appeared exactly as she should, no marks on her face, no scars, not a speck of blood on her clothes or in her hair. Who knew how many years she’d had to forget the sting of the Vorpal Vine. To use that memory to make herself stronger.

But for him… For him, it was still fresh. In his mind’s eye, he could still see her falling through the dawn, still hear the jeering crowd as he raced through the streets to find her. The smell of another man’s soul still clung to him.

Nobody had told him what would happen when he became a father. That his heart would become so twisted with love he would never be the same. That her safety, her joy, would become his everything.

“Can you answer one thing?”

Cori sipped her whisky, arching a brow in that way that said,Depends on the question.

“Are you okay?” His voice cracked slightly. Today, he’d seen her brutalized, nearly killed for what she was. He just needed to know— “Wherever, whenever, you are now, are you safe? Are youhappy?”

“Of course.” But her eyes dipped, just like they always did when she was lying.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t do that.”

She glanced at him, and that smile she wielded like a shield finally slipped. Beneath it, he saw only exhaustion, a woman stretched thin and barely holding together.

“It’s funny,” she said after a moment. “Whenever I travel, everyone always assumes so many things about me. They assume that because there’s a primary timeline, one unbroken chain of events leading from the past into the future, that I’m exactly who I should be. They take comfort in my mere existence, as if that’s some sort of guarantee for a brighter future.”

“Isn’t it?”

“If it helps you sleep at night, then by all means, believe whatever you like.” She uncrossed her legs, stretching her booted feet towards the fire. “Lately, I find myself thinking about echoes.”

“Echoes?”

She nodded. “Decisions branch, and for most people, they’ll never know the outcome of the road untaken. But I can see it. I can see the echo of what might’ve been. I can pick it out of the mess before it dissolves into nothing and use it to get a glimpse of the world that would’ve spawned if events had conspired to go another way. I can see paths where everything just…worked.And believe me, that’s a special kind of fucked-up torture. To know where you went wrong and just how badly. To be able to see where all those little mistakes spiraled out.”

“And which mistake are you trying to undo?” Ivain asked softly.