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I met her burning gaze unblinkingly, looking back into orbs of scorching red that burned as brightly as the sun.

A jolt went through me. She was inside of me. Not like my father had been in my dreams—invading my mind against my will. This was different. Gentler. She was not taking. She was placing. Placing her thoughts very carefully as if afraid even touching me in this small way might break me.

No one has ever asked.

No one has ever cared.

No one ever came.

“Well, I’m here now,” I said aloud and clearly. “I’ve come.”

You are. So different. Yet the same as before.

The voice was fond, wistful. Sadness welled inside me.

The object you hold is a violation.

A pause.

This hurt was old. So old. And yet I could feel her horror even now at what had been done to her.

There may be a way to destroy it.

The thought was careful, controlled. As if hope was something she had long since forgotten. Still, I sensed a seed of it there. Growing in the light inside of her.

“Let’s do it. Here. Now. I’m ready,” I said quickly. “I’ve tried on my own. I wasn’t able to destroy it. But with the two of us...”

Not so fast. You say you tried to destroy it alone.

She was thinking. There was a pause.

Together, it is possible. Yes, I believe it is. But you do not understand.

“Tell me.”

It will take something. From you and me both. As for me, I am willing to give up anything to do this. Anything. To cease existence would be better than this state I am now trapped in. But for you, it will be something you can never get back.

“What? What will it take?” I asked.

A wordless motion. The equivalent of a helpless shrug.

“I don’t care,” I said stoutly. “I’m ready. I’ll do anything.”

“Morgan.” Draven’s voice was sharp. “Morgan, what are you promising her? What’s happening?”

He could only hear one side of our conversation, I remembered.

“We’re going to destroy the grail,” I explained. “Right here. Right now.”

“You and that... thing?”

I stared at him. “She’s no thing. You don’t understand who she is to me.”

“Tell me then,” he said quickly. “You called her Zorya. But how do you know this? How is such a thing even possible?”

I tried to quell my rising impatience. “Look, I’m not a believer. I never have been. You know that. But parts of the stories are true.” His eyes widened slightly.

“I don’t know what she is exactly now,” I went on. What I was. What we were. “But before she was turned into this... thing, she was Zorya. I know it beyond a shadow of a doubt. And I also know that”—I took a deep breath—“she’s my aunt.”