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The Sutara Family country estate. A place she would have called home if things had been different. This was where Cethin had always brought her in her dreams when he would dream walk to her. There was some comfort in that, despite the things Cethin had kept from her. He may not have known everything Saylah had told her, but he knew enough. He’d kept enough from her to break that fragile trust that had been built. But Kailia had been right too. She had her own secrets. Could she fault Cethin for keeping his?

Her hands were stacked on her stomach, and she drummed her fingers as she let her thoughts have their way. Cassius was… Well, not better, but functioning again. There was a team collecting Ashtine now. They would be back tomorrow, and she would leave to get Cyrus. Then her focus could shift again. The Tyndells. The lock. Cethin. Sorin. More pieces that would be moved into place.

Moves and countermoves.

What would their world look like when this was over?

Would she be here to see it?

She lifted a hand, the embers on the map disappearing and far fewer ice crystals appearing, scattered in various places throughout the two continents.

Mirror gates.

There had to be others. Surely Pyry contained one or two. And what of the other continents in their world? Lands she’d only read about and territories unexplored?

Her magic strained beneath her skin. Shadows and flames pushing to be let out. She was keeping it contained, but it demanded more. She’d taken so much from Sorin and then had kept it locked up tight. It felt dangerously similar to when it would break through her tonic and that had never ended well, so she let her shadows out to breathe before they forced her hand. They coiled around her—brushing along her arms, throat, cheek—seeking to comfort her. She sucked in another breath, her eyes fluttering closed at the now familiar essence.

Until they thickened around her.

Her eyes flew open, and she pushed up to a sitting position. Her shadows were writhing, merging into two panthers prowling around her as she got to her feet. The gentle breeze had stopped, the grasses stilling.

Scarlett raised a hand, starfire flaring to life in her palm as she peered into the darkness. There was nothing around but the rolling fields and a small copse of trees. She should Travel back to Aimonway, but there was something watching her. She could feel its eyes on her.

The shadow panthers snarled softly, their eyes glowing orange embers. Pulling a dagger from her hip, she took another step. She was barefoot, clad in only loose pants and a thick long-sleeved tunic. Her silver hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she was debating sheathing the dagger and calling forth her spirit sword when she saw it.

The copse of trees was perhaps thirty yards to the left and drifting among it was…

Scarlett didn’t know what it was.

It had a body, but it wasn’t one of flesh. It shimmered against the dark, almost translucent. Almost, but not quite. A spirit of the After?

Scarlett took another step towards it, her panthers falling to her sides to flank her. The being stepped forward too.

No.

It glided.

Its legs moved as it took a step towards her, but it hovered a few inches off the ground. The entire being was pale. Pale skin. Short hair white as fresh fallen snow. White eyes with no pupils she could see from here.

She stopped, but the figure continued forward until it was no more than ten yards from her. Tall and lean with sharp, angular features, it was not mortal nor Fae. She could almost call him beautiful. This was a being she had never encountered, never read about. And there were definitely no pupils in the white eyes that glowed softly in the night. How did he see?

The figure tipped his head back, inhaling deeply. Scenting, she realized. Then he dipped his chin, soulless eyes settling on her.

And he smiled.

She felt it settle over her. The calm as she prepared to fight. The anticipation of a deadly game. The hunger for the kill. Something that had been ingrained in her very being.

Scarlett tilted her head, a wicked smile of her own filling her face as she sheathed her dagger. A flare of starfire had her spirit sword appearing in her hand, and one of her panthers let loose a warning snarl.

She should definitely go to get someone, but now Death’s Maiden was waking up.

And she hadn’t been out to play in far too long.

The being nodded, as if in agreement of what was to come, before his mouth opened. The thing exhaled. Scarlett could see his breath as though they were in the arctic climate of Pyry. Lifting a hand, he reached into the hovering puff of air and pulled out something gleaming gold.

A sword.

A godsdamn solid gold sword.