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Evrardin stared at the princess’ corpse, limp in his hands like she had fallen into a fitful slumber. He expected his chest to feel deathly, drained completely by Acastus, like sludge clogging the cavity, but what brewed inside him was fire. Uncontainable rage surged up his feet, his spine, and pumped his heart. His hands would have been shaking if he wasn’t clutching so tightly to the princess.

“Her heart, Evrardin,” Acastus said languidly, like this was an inconvenience for him.

Evrardin’s jaw clenched. His dagger slid against Mara’s chest, then he pushed down, cutting into her clothes, and more importantly, into her flesh. He sawed away like he did all the corpses he was presented with, but tears welled in his eyes this time, and his lips parted in a silent gasp. This felt like retribution for all the heinous and reprehensible atrocities he’d laid out at the prince’s feet. Like it was destined to happen.

He wondered if Acastus were to demand he stop feeling sorry for himself, if then the pain would subside.

“Always set to be my ruination,” he repeated to himself. Mara’s blood soaked his hands, the color an unnatural crimson. “I was never meant to be yours.” His words floated away into the room, lost to the chaos.

When the heart—Mara’s heart—was cradled in the palm of his hand, he cursed at his dagger. The dagger gifted by Cas meant for executing his misdeeds, never for hurting the princess.

“Finally,” Cas huffed, snatching the heart from the captain’s hands. He swore he saw it beat faintly. Acastus took the tome from Lord Alfson, scanning over the words, then handed it back before closing his eyes. The hearts had already been carted into the Veil, all but Mara’s. Draugr magick was muttered between the prince’s blanched lips silently. With his gloves shed, the darkness that swirled around them stood in sharp contrast to the glowing red that dripped through his fingers and down his arm into the sleeves of his jacket.

Evrardin carefully studied Cas’ movements. When Evrardin stood, a desecrated Mara at his feet, his own heart had felt like it had been carved from his chest cavity. He was the monster he always knew he’d become.

Acastus shrieked and Ev’s eyes darted to him. Alfson stumbled closer. “What’s happening, my prince?!” he all but shouted.

The high priest grabbed the book that Cas dropped at his feet and scanned the pages. “He did everything perfectly.”

Evrardin saw the mirror, forgotten at the back of the dais, move. When he focused on it, a large crane stepped out and into the world of the living. Its figure was lanky and tall, its face surprisingly humanoid. The feathers on its belly were ombre red at the edges, the rest of its chest a creamy white that appeared dirty, like it had rolled in ashes. Navy feathers sprouted along the perimeter of its body.

“Trana?” Evrardin muttered.

The high priest’s gaze flickered to where Evrardin stood hunched and followed his line of sight, the prince’s cries muffled as his body contorted beyond possible lengths. “My goddess,” the priest cried, falling to his knees, ditching the tome, and reaching forward in prayer to the sun goddess.

The bird tilted its head and edged closer, moving slowly, like it wasn’t attached to its own body. “Do not bow,” it cackled. “You pathetic humans. So shadowed by your greed, your slimy eyes can’t even tell a svik from your own deity.”

Cas’ body began to feather, blood pooling around him as wild feathers burst from his skin, each one echoing a scream from his lungs.

A svik … A false entity of the Veil. A creature that would imitate even that of a sun goddess to free itself. Evrardin clenched his jaw.

Alfson looked around like he was lost. Evrardin shook his head, charging at him. He grabbed his arm tightly and Alfson yelped. “Going somewhere?”

Alfson’s eyes glazed over in hatred, thinking the captain so far beneath him that it was an insult to even be close enough to touch. “Unhand me.”

Before Evrardin could decide if he was to slit his throat or not, Cas’ screeches died, the silence making the room all focus on him. His body had contorted into the mirror image of the crane beside him… Then the crane also began to shift, turning human.

“What in the gods and stars—” Lord Alfson said, dumbfounded by the circus before him.

“It was a svik ,” the high priest spat. “The prince couldn’t tell Trana apart from a godforsaken svik !”

“Yes, use your goddess’ name in vain,” the former crane cooed in a scratchy voice. “She will not welcome you.”

The high priest stumbled, physically taken aback as though condemned. His whole life spent worshiping the sun goddess, only to be told she would not accept him.

The svik resembled the prince, a mop of greasy hair on his head, his cheeks sunken in, his clothes nowhere to be found, but clearly still the body of Acastus. A fucking svik . Acastus was misled by a fucking svik ! A foul creature of deception, able to disguise itself as anything, even a deity. Impersonating the sun goddess, a crane, the entire time. It explains why Cas had been choked with feathers, why he had begun to change if he used too much power from the Veil, like when his body shifted that time in the Sandwoods. Evrardin had thought it was from using his power to subdue the Glass King, to get him to change the way Mara chose a suitor, his body shifting not long after into the form of Trana. But he had reverted after a bit of forced rest. This entire time, it had been the svik trying to break into our realm whenever Acastus channeled magick from the Veil to do his bidding.

“Pardon my indecency,” he spoke, gesturing to his naked form. “I have been locked away in the Veil for centuries now. Surprisingly, there are no tailors.” His joke did not land except to himself as he cackled, the sound painful, like a howling kettle.

Cas’ clothes had fallen to the floor, his body no longer needing them as he stood lean and tall as a crane. The svik began to grab the prince’s discarded attire and slip them on.

“Evrardin,” Cas grunted. “Find the Sun Warriors.” He sputtered up sludge. “Lead them before he gets control of them.”

“Cas—”

“NOW!” he boomed.

Evrardin had no choice but to turn from the commotion, away from Mara’s body, and stride out of the cathedral. The svik had convinced the Sun Prince to set him free in the guise of summoning a warrior army in the name of Trana. And Cas still thought he stood a chance.

The castle began to shake, loose stones crumbling around Evrardin as he hustled through the many halls. The fae magick that lingered in Kairth’s castle would be pushed out as dark magick filled its place.