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He kept walking. “I want you to remember that I tried to do this peacefully.” Another shot. “ Yet again .” Another, this one to his neck. Blood sprayed. “I tried to be generous, Taly, but if the carrot won’t do, then we’ll see how you handle the stick.”

He grabbed her shoulder, and Taly’s hands came up, seizing his wrist as she twisted. His grip slipped, but his fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her back.

“This didn’t—” But he hissed, recoiling as if he’d touched fire.

Taly stumbled back a few steps. Hair fell into her eyes. His gaze immediately went to the pin dangling from her ruined braid. The one Ivain had given her.

“Where did you get that?” He lunged to grab her again, but she ripped the pin from her hair, pressing it to his neck. He howled like he was burning.

And that’s when Calcifer arrived.

She hadn’t heard him coming. She didn’t know where he’d gone or how he’d clawed his way back.

Only that the darkness between the pews split open, and he came flying out, a snarling beast born from the void.

One powerful leap sent him barreling into Aneirin, the force knocking them both back. Claws sharp as daggers slashed at Kalahad’s chest, leaving deep, jagged marks in flesh. Teeth snapped inches from his face, a heartbeat away from closing around his throat.

Taly took the opening. She ran—or started to.

“Enough!” Aneirin’s hand shot out, gripping Calcifer’s neck with an almost lazy precision. “You’re a nuisance,” he muttered, and with a violent heave, he flung Calcifer across the temple.

His body flew, hitting one of the massive columns with a resounding crack . The same crack Taly felt in her heart as he dropped to the floor, limp as a rag.

Get up, she silently begged. Please, please get up.

But he didn’t. He didn’t even try .

Taly screamed, raw and choked with fury. Gripping the hairpin, she charged, the makeshift blade flashing as she brought it down in a wild arc.

Aneirin hissed as blood bloomed on his cheek. “That” — before she could swing again, his hand lashed out, iron-tight around her wrist, dragging her forward— “was a very bad…” His voice trailed off on an inhale.

He froze.

His gaze raked over her. His nostrils flared slightly as he leaned closer.

Then she saw it—the flicker of confusion that melted into realization.

“What have you done to yourself?” he whispered, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. “By the gods… what have you done?!”

Aneirin’s grip tightened. With a snarl, he hurled her.

She hit the nearest pew with a brutal crack, wood splintering around her as she crumpled to the floor. Pain bloomed sharp and bright along her ribs.

He stalked toward her, shadows flickering in his wake.

“So, you really thought you could take it away?” he spat. “Strip yourself of all usefulness?”

She tried to push herself up.

“Well, think again, dearie.” He reached down, grabbed the front of her tunic, and hauled her upright like she weighed nothing. “You’re mine. Magic or no magic, you don’t get to decide what’s useful. I do.”

He shook her once, hard . Then his grip shifted, tightening like a vice. His fingers bit into her arm, the other hand dragging across her body, as though the answer lay somewhere beneath her skin. “Whoever bound your magic would’ve had to anchor the enchantment.”

Taly twisted and sank her teeth into his arm. He hissed, more fury than pain. Grabbing her around the throat, he slammed her into the stone floor.

The impact rattled her bones. Her head cracked, and white shot across her vision, clearing just in time to his face leaning in close.

“Your Marquess is a fool if he thinks a little desecration spell will save you.” A smile curled at his lips. “Who’s to say I won’t just kill you instead?”

“Because a good hunter knows when to check a trap,” came a new voice, cool and level. “And because then you really would be without a time mage rather than just temporarily inconvenienced of one.”

Taly almost cried out in relief. Because there, standing at the entrance to the temple, was Ivain.

For a moment, he seemed almost unreal, framed by the hazy light filtering through the smoke and shadow. His presence was commanding, his posture unshaken, and though his expression was stern, the faintest glimmer of warmth softened the hard lines of his face when their eyes met.

Everything clicked into place at once. Ivain’s punishment—she’d felt sorry for herself all week, calling him harsh, cruel, overbearing.

But now? Now, it made sense.

He hadn’t left her unprotected. It was the opposite. In taking away her magic, he’d stripped away the very thing Aneirin desired, leaving him no reason to continue the chase.

“Take your hands off my daughter,” Ivain snarled, low and deadly.

Kalahad’s mouth stretched, all teeth and no warmth. “You really think binding her magic will be enough to stop me?”

Ivain’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade. “Oh, I never thought it would stop you,” he said. “I just wanted to make this a fair fight. Jump around all you want, tear through the city, but she’s no longer of any use to you—not unless you’re prepared to get through me.”

And therein lay the genius of his plan. Desecration spells didn’t break like ordinary enchantments.

To restore her power, the one who cast it had to undo it—or they had to die.

Even then, the spell didn’t unravel all at once.

The process was painstaking, the magic clawing its way free in stages, leaving the victim in a slow, fractured recovery.

Aneirin’s smile faltered. “Well, aren’t you clever? The White Fox, indeed.”

“Taly,” Ivain said sharply, his eyes never leaving Aneirin. “Go. Now. Get as far away from here as possible and wait for me to find you.”

Taly didn’t need to be told twice. She picked herself up off the floor. Her feet moved, not toward the safety of the entrance, but to Calcifer instead.

She fell to her knees beside him. “Come on.” She slid her hands under his massive frame, trying to lift him, but his body was limp, unresponsive. “Calcifer, please! Get up!”

He didn’t move.

A low, pain-filled sound escaped him, a weak echo of his usual growl. The edges of his shadowy form rippled, feathering away into the air.

“No,” Taly choked out, tears blurring her vision as golden motes of light lifted from him, drifting upward like embers in the dim light. “No, no, no. You’re fine. You’re fine! Just—just get up!” She shook him gently, then less gently as more and more of him dissolved into the air.

“Taly!” Ivain’s voice was sharp. She turned, her chest heaving, tears on the brink of falling, but his gaze was unyielding. “ Go .”

Another golden wisp floated upward, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t leave him, she couldn’t—

The first clang of metal struck.

Ivain’s sword clashed against Aneirin’s in a shower of sparks, but the fight shifted quickly. Kalahad flicked his hand, and a crack tore open beside him, swallowing his weapon. It reappeared above Ivain, who barely dodged the blade aimed for his shoulder.

“Go!” Ivain roared, his own swing arcing wide in retaliation.

With a ragged sob, Taly kissed Calcifer’s nose, just like she had a hundred times before. But this time, he didn’t stir.

She let go—and felt the last of her heart shatter as she wrenched open the door and fled the temple.