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"Don't look so grim," she said finally, resuming her manicure. "It's not as if they're launching an attack. Though I suppose that will come soon enough if you don't produce this miraculous alternative you keep promising."

"Effie," Aether warned, but she just shrugged.

"What? We're all thinking it. The deadline is in two days, and so far all we have is a bunch of dusty books and?—"

Vexa's hand slammed onto the dining table, rattling plates and startling several nearby soldiers. "I have an idea."

"Some of us are trying to eat here," Rethlyn grumbled, tugging his plate away from her fingers.

"It's risky," she continued, sliding into a seat with a self-satisfied smile, "but at this point, you don't have much of a choice, do you?" Her eyes found mine across the table.

"I'm listening." I leaned forward, trying not to let my desperationshow. After days of dead ends in the archives, I'd take almost anything.

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't think of it earlier, Aether." Vexa shot him a disappointed look.

"Elaborate, please, dear," Effie said, examining her nails with disinterest.

Something passed between Vexa and Aether—some shared knowledge that made the air feel heavier. I glanced between them, hating how often I felt like I was missing pieces of the puzzle.

"We've been going about this the wrong way—trying to find information in the archives about siphons. Why did we waste all that time when we could have just spoken to the source himself?"

Effie scrunched her eyebrows. "The man's been dead for over a century."

"You're the only one who still knows how to find them," Vexa said to Aether, ignoring Effie completely. "What had you told me… some cave in the Blodfhal?—"

"No." Aether's response was immediate as he leaned back, crossing his arms. The shadows around him seemed to deepen.

"The book was written by him, it carries his penmanship. It would work, I think." Vexa shrugged, but there was nothing casual about her tone.

"Vexa." Just her name, but it carried enough warning to set my nerves on end.

"What are you two talking about?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. More secrets, more half-truths.

"I'd also like to know," Rethlyn added around a mouthful of ricecake.

"When I was in prison, there were rumors about this fiend, or monster—something stereotypically horrifying, of course. Said it could speak in voices of the dead, as long as you had a personal item of the deceased." Vexa's lips curled into a smile. "Like, perhaps, a memoir."

Effie nearly choked on her drink. "Absurd."

I rolled my eyes, disappointment settling heavy in my stomach. I'd actually let myself hope for a moment, but this was ridiculous.

"I thought so too. Until this one here broke me out, and confirmed it was real."

The silence that followed was deafening as all eyes shot to Aether. Even Effie's disinterest cracked.

"Vexa, that's not even close to an accurate account of what happened." He sighed, but something in his voice made me pause. He wasn't denying it existed.

"I was telling you all the tales I'd heard whispered across those cells?—"

"Quite loudly, and frequently, if I recall."

"So you do remember? Good." Vexa's smile turned sharp. "Anyway, I guess in an attempt toquiet me, he confirmed the existence of the Dread Sirens. Said he had encountered them nearly two decades before."

"And they were useless, which you'd remember, if you hadn't put away so much ale that evening." Aether's voice was flat, but his shoulders had tensed.

"Only because you didn't have any possessions." She held up the memoir, waving it like a prize. "But this time, we do."

Aether stayed quiet, jaw clenched as his gaze narrowed further on the wall.