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“I went too far, some might say. Replaced too many parts. Traded away my soul in exchange for hers. But what choice did I have? She was always so strong, always the one to push boundaries—to defy limits.”

Violet runes wove in and out of his flesh, now a dance of light and shadows. Skin dissolved, and he became not Fey, not beast, but an ever-shifting mass of living blood that grew to fill the tower.

And his face—it was no longer Skye’s face. It was no face at all. From inside a mist of blood that dripped from the ceiling, a silver skull with green eyes peering out of skeletal sockets descended on a fleshy tendril.

It pushed through the projection. The holo-image rippled, then curled inward, dissolving into thin wisps of blue-smoke. The remnants trailed that hideous metal skull as it telescoped downward—stopping level with his eyes.

“Behold, our sacrifice. Our power.”

The guttural voice echoed from every part of the room. From the vats set into the floor and the mesh of blood-infused wire crawling over the bookcases and hanging from the rafters above.

“You think it hurts to imagine losing her? You think it’s bad now, lying awake with that fear in your gut?

Multiply it a hundred-fold. Try holding her as she fades.

Feel her body go slack in your arms. She died, and in that moment, so did I.

There was nothing left. No reason to keep breathing. Until I realized… none of it was real.”

This other-him was a nightmare made of flesh. A horrific vision of what heartbreak and madness could create.

“I… I don’t know what that means,” Skye whispered, barely audible over the pounding in his ears.

Flesh ripped wetly, and the keeper’s appearance altered. Coalescing back down into a body.

Suddenly, it was Ivain standing over him.

“It means,” the other-him continued in Ivain’s voice, as if he’d also perfectly replicated the vocal cords, “that no matter how tragic my ending, it was just one ending. I don’t matter. And once I understood that, the next step became obvious—I had to find you.”

His form quivered like a reflection on water disturbed by a falling leaf. His shoulders, broad and imposing, narrowed, and his muscles softened and redistributed themselves as his silhouette morphed into a more graceful, delicate shape.

Then Sarina’s voice, soft and trembling, whispered, “You’re the only one of us with the power to save her from what’s coming.

You are the Primary. The rest of us—we’re nothing but echoes.

Stray wisps of thread that should’ve been clipped.

We lack depth, substance, continuity. Only you can shift the pattern. ”

Blood undulated and re-formed. The room seemed to pulse. And then the third and final phantom leaned over him.

Taly.

Though something was wrong with her eyes. They were vacant, devoid of any warmth or tenderness.

Yet she was smiling—a chilling, empty smile that twisted his insides with dread.

As much as Skye tried to look away, he couldn’t. The grim future he could see foretold in those horrible, dead eyes held him in a morbid trance.

When she spoke, the keeper perfectly mimicking her voice, the words were dull and lifeless, almost robotic. “For what it’s worth, it did make it easier. Knowing that when I had to drive a blade through her heart, it wasn’t her anymore.”

Blood bloomed on the front of her snow-white tunic.

“The eyes,” she whispered. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, and hers was already gone. They hollowed out every good thing in her until she was just a shell, a weapon being used against everything she stood for. And it will happen again. You think you’re invincible—that you can protect her no matter what.

But the truth is, you’re going to lose her.

Because that’s the way this game was rigged.

Every step you take, every decision you think is yours, leads to that inevitable end. ”

It was too awful to contemplate. Skye couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t. Especially with evidence to the contrary standing right there.

“Explain Cori then.” That was the most glaring flaw in the keeper’s argument. “If I always lose Taly, then how do you explain her?”

The keeper’s appearance settled back into that strange, haggard mirror image.

“Did I say she always dies?” he asked, then waited.

No… no, he didn’t.

“There’s more than one way to lose a person,” the other him said lowly.

“Some are quick. The rest? They take their time. Make sure you feel every inch of it. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that future is any brighter, kid.

Otherwise, Cori and her little minions wouldn’t be working so hard to undo it.

She wouldn’t have come here, bartering for her precious key, thinking it had the power to rewrite her history. ”

A hand slammed down on either side of the operating table as his other-self leaned in.

“You want to stop what’s coming? Then become the strongest bloodcrafter the realms have ever seen.

I’ll provide the rarest materials, the most potent essences, the relics you’ll need to mold yourself into the ultimate weapon.

With this arsenal, you won’t just be another mage—you’ll be a force of nature in your own right, as unstoppable and raw as Taly herself. ”

Wild eyes glinted beneath the too-bright light of the work lamp. “That’s the only way this story ends differently. You’re not strong enough, but you could be. All you have to do is stop holding yourself back.”

Skye looked up into that too-close face, hair falling in messy, uneven strands around them both. “What’s the catch?”

Power always came with a cost.

“Well... you might just become a monster yourself,” said that fevered, grinning mirror. “But here’s the thing about monsters—they survive. Just ask her.”

He gestured with a battered hand at Cori, still frozen in the doorway.

“This is what has to happen.” He leaned in, eyes burning. “You know it—you know her . The only way to save Taly is to sacrifice first. Beat her to it. If you can’t see that by now, then maybe you are as dumb as you look.”

The lights in the tower flickered. The keeper paused, as if listening. “Damn it. The mimic is on his way.” A growl rumbled in his throat, more beast than man. He slapped a hand to the side of the table.

There was a click , then a hiss .

“I know you still don’t trust me. I wouldn’t either. I won’t force you—this wouldn’t work if I did. You need to decide for yourself.”

Power hummed as the arcs of metal loosened and pried back. Skye bolted upright. He reached, ready to rip the tubes from his arm—and hesitated.

For a moment, he simply sat there, frozen, his mind racing.

Because he knew it. Down to the marrow, down to the sick twist in his gut. The other-him was right. He wasn’t strong enough. Not yet.

He hadn’t killed Vaughn. Taly had.

He hadn’t saved them all at Crescent Canyon. It was Ivain.

He kept falling short, no matter how hard he tried. Always a moment too late. Always needing someone else to finish what he couldn’t.

The keeper leaned close, no longer smiling. There were no jokes. No shared innuendo. Only bleak reality staring back—many of them, if he was to be believed.

And one last horrible question.

“What would you sacrifice to save her?”

Skye’s fists tightened. Anger burned hot, fear clawed at the edges, but something stronger was rising to meet them—resolve.

Later, Taly would say he did it for the wrong reasons. Because he did it for her, for the momentary flicker of hope for a brighter future, and that wasn’t good enough. At least, according to her own flawed logic.

Later, he would come up with other reasons. Better reasons, according to Taly’s criteria, that had more to do with his own wants and ambitions, self-actualization, independence, and all that other crap.

He would finally be able to put words to the feeling that had emerged beneath the horror as he looked up into the monster’s face that day.

Into the eyes of that silver skull. That fabled, insatiable lust for more, more, more power that beset all bloodcrafters in the end—even then, he’d already been infected.

In the moment, however, he did it for her.

It wasn’t even a choice.

What would he sacrifice for her? The answer was obvious.

Anything. Everything .

He pictured her face because it got him through it. It gave him the courage to lie back down on the operating table. To pull the metal arcs back into place.

Skye took several long breaths as his heart raced wildly. “Is this going to hurt?”

The keeper came to stand over him and picked up a scalpel. Its sharp edge gleamed in the light of the surgical lamps, reflecting his smile.

“Oh yes. A lot.” [iii]