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W hen Teryn returned to consciousness, it was to the sound of Cora’s voice. It was distant, soft, barely brushing against the edges of his awareness. Yet the sound of it called him from nothingness, and when his surroundings took shape, they weren’t the bright light of the crystal or even Emylia’s temple bedroom illusion. Instead, he found himself before a door. The door inside his bedroom at Ridine Castle.

Cora’s voice echoed from the other side, along with a rumbling knock.

“Teryn, are you there? It’s Cora.”

Teryn’s consciousness sharpened. He connected to his breath, his pulse, the hammering of his heart. The events he last recalled—Morkai tricking Dimetreus into attacking him—surfaced in his mind, but he anchored his focus with the sound of Cora’s voice. He was pulled to the melody of her tone, the sensation so strong, he felt it could draw his ethera straight through the door. But as he tried to take a step through the physical matter, he felt a much stronger pull against his back. Glancing behind him, he saw his body resting in his bed. This was as far as his tether to the crystal would let him go.

“Teryn, please. We need to talk.”

He whirled back toward the door. Everything inside him begged to answer, but he knew his voice wouldn’t travel to reach her. Not from whatever plane of existence his ethera was on. So he pressed his palm to the door, felt the resistance hum. She knocked again, and the vibration rang through him like ripples on smooth water.

“Are you there?”

“I’m here,” he said, his voice hollow against the resonance of hers. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear him. He was there. He was there and he’d fix this.

She knocked once more, and he welcomed the reverberation like a caress.

Gods, this was as close as he could get to touching her. To being beside her.

He stayed like that for several long moments, even after he realized she’d left.

“You projected yourself outside the crystal on your own this time,” Emylia said, suddenly beside him.

“It was Cora’s voice that brought me here.”

She released a heavy sigh. “You shouldn’t have overexerted your ethera, Highness. It’s dangerous to wait until your ethera forces you to rest.”

He turned away from the door to face her with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“Your ethera requires rest and recovery, just like a human body does.”

“I know that, but why is it so dangerous for me to be forced to rest after overexertion? What haven’t you been telling me?”

She nibbled her bottom lip before answering. “Being forced to rest abruptly severs your connection to your vitale, the same way fear or panic does.”

Teryn folded his arms. “And that’s a bad thing because…”

“Because it causes your body’s functions to begin to shut down.”

Teryn blinked at her. So that was why she was always reminding him to focus on his breath, to strengthen his vitale. It had been less about maintaining his strongest connection and more about preserving his body’s functions. Did that mean…

“Could that…kill me?”

She nodded.

Anger sparked inside him. “Then why the seven devils didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said. “I knew it would only make you panic more.” Her voice was brimming with apology, and yet…

He remembered how nervous she’d seemed when they’d followed Morkai into the Godskeep. How she’d tried to get him to rest before Morkai spoke with the king. Had she only been anxious over the prospect of him overhearing something that would cause his fear to spike, tearing him away from his vitale and forcing his ethera to rest? Had her concern been due to precaution…or premeditation?

Teryn’s fingers curled into fists. He hated that he was starting to get used to the way the gesture buzzed, the way he was beginning to forget what being made of flesh and blood felt like. “Did you know? When we entered the Godskeep, did you know what Morkai had been planning to do?”

She shrank down, shoulders tense. “I had an inkling, but I didn’t want you to panic. You can’t focus on what he’s doing. You can only focus on regaining control of your cereba.”

“So I can remove the crystal from my body and destroy it. Which we still don’t have a solution to.”

“I have an idea.”

Teryn tightened his jaw. “Why the seven devils haven’t you told me?”

“Because it’s just that—an idea. Actually, it’s less of an idea. It’s simply…knowledge. I know how Morkai made the crystal unbreakable. A year ago, he wove its fate to a unicorn horn, focusing on the horn’s indestructibility. The crystal now has the same properties that a unicorn horn has. It cannot break, burn, or crack.”

Teryn was torn between feeling daunted by such facts or elated that he finally had something to work with. There had to be a solution now. He pondered what he knew about unicorn horns, most of which he’d learned from the now-dead Prince Helios. “You said the crystal can’t be cracked or broken, but there must be a way. If it has the same properties a unicorn horn has, then it can be cut. Horns can be carved.”

She shook her head. “Only severed horns can be carved. The horn Morkai used was still attached to the unicorn when he cast the fate weaving.”

“Then what is your idea? How do we use this knowledge to destroy the crystal?”

“To break a curse, spell, or enchantment, one must go through the motions that were placed upon it but in reverse. Morkai used a bastardized version of an ancient Elvyn magic called weaving . Elvyn weavers used sky, but Morkai was never able to utilize this magic. Instead, he used blood. He’d draw out blueprints for complex patterns to execute his spells and cast them using blood. Since the crystal and horn were both inanimate objects, he had to use his own blood for that weaving, along with most of the magic he’d currently stored in his Roizan.”

Teryn’s mind spun with the information. Weaving. Ancient Elvyn magic. The Roizan. Teryn had witnessed the sorcerer utilize blood in such dark ways. He’d even attempted to kill Teryn with that very magic at Centerpointe Rock. The Roizan, however, he only partially understood. During Cora’s interrogation, she’d told the inquisitors that the creature he’d known as the Beast had a name. Roizan . He’d learned the intel during his own interview. One of many he’d endured to prove Cora’s identity. “What exactly is a Roizan?”

“A Roizan is a creature born from death, a sorcery of the forbidden Arts of the sanguina and ethera—blood and spirit. Neither alive nor dead, it becomes a vessel for magic that can be drawn from at will. It amplified Morkai’s own magic, allowing him to do things he never could have done on his own. Large feats of magic either empty or destroy the Roizan, but the beasts are essential for doing magic beyond one’s means.”

“You said to nullify the enchantment that makes the crystal unbreakable, we would need to reverse the spell he’d placed on it. How the seven devils can we do that?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m working on finding a way. One thing we’ll need is Morkai’s blood—the blood from his original body. He’ll have some stored somewhere, and we can count on him to retrieve it himself. There are certain spells he won’t be able to cast with the blood from your body alone. He’ll need his own. The second thing we’ll need…”

She paused, expression falling.

“…is the blueprint for the pattern he used to bind the qualities of the crystal to the unicorn horn.”

“Do you have a way of finding this blueprint?”

“Not exactly,” she said with a grimace. “He never showed it to me. He has the power to block me from projecting my ethera outside the crystal. It takes constant focus, so he couldn’t do it all the time, but he must have been doing so when he drew the blueprint. I watched him weave the spell, but I couldn’t see the pattern he used clearly. It was complex. Miniscule from where I stood.”

Teryn rubbed his brow. “How are we to reverse a spell with a pattern we don’t know? How do we reverse a spell at all? Is that something you have the power to do?”

“No, that is not something I can do. You’ll have to be the one to reverse the spell.”

Teryn’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know the first thing about casting magic.”

“You don’t need to. Blood magic follows rules. Patterns. That’s why Morkai relied on it so much. Once we have everything we need, and you’ve strengthened your connection to your cereba as much as you can, you’ll need to take over your body and draw the pattern in reverse using Morkai’s blood. On paper, on a stone, it won’t matter. You simply must reverse the lines he drew. As for the pattern itself…do you remember how I told you I was a seer when I was alive? I still maintain some of my abilities. I can watch my own memories. I’ve been trying to study my memory of Morkai casting the spell, watching it from different angles to see if I can untangle his movements. I’ve also sought the greater Art of seeing, seeking answers from the spiritual plane beyond. I haven’t glimpsed the pattern yet, but…” Her eyes unfocused. “I have seen that we must stay the course. Keep doing what we’re doing.”

“That’s all? Stay the course?”

“It’s an imperfect Art, especially for someone no longer alive. I don’t see as strongly as I used to. Even if I do manage to catch glimpses with the sight, when it comes to Morkai, everything is shrouded in these tangled…threads. I don’t know what else to call them. All I know is that they’re working against him. So when they pull me forward and tell me to stay the course, I listen.”

Teryn leaned against the doorframe, felt the energy thrum against his back. Gods, no wonder she hadn’t told him this. It didn’t help at all. Perhaps Emylia was used to blind trust when it came to magic, but Teryn still felt lost in this world of fate and blood sorcery. There was so much he didn’t know. So much he didn’t understand. His mind wandered back to the Godskeep, saw Dimetreus draw blood from Teryn’s own throat.

His gaze locked on Emylia’s. “You said you had an inkling about Morkai’s plan in the Godskeep. What were his reasons behind it?”

Emylia held up her hands in a soothing gesture. “If I tell you, you must remember that there’s nothing you can do?—”

“Just tell me,” he ground out.

She folded her hands at her waist. “Morkai’s plan was to destabilize the king and prove to the council that he’s incapable of ruling. The council has made their decision. You know what happens next.”

Teryn’s pulse quickened. “Cora will be forced to ascend to the throne.”

Emylia nodded. “But first she must marry you. Morkai has spoken to the council in your place and has agreed. I don’t know about Cora, but as of now, your marriage contract is set to be signed first thing tomorrow morning.”

It took all of Teryn’s focus not to lose touch with his breathing, with the rapid thud of his heart. “He’s going to marry her…as me. Tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

His voice came out cold. Sharp. “What happened to you have time, I promise ?”

“You still do have time. Maybe not as much as you thought, but enough to do what must be done.”

“I have until tomorrow morning to regain control over my body before he…” He couldn’t say it out loud. No, that would make it too real. Gods, he thought he had a year, not a matter of days. In what world did Emylia consider that enough time?

“He won’t attempt to consummate the marriage, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’ll continue to try and maintain his distance for the time being.”

“Why is he forcing her to ascend to the throne so soon, to finalize the marriage alliance so suddenly?”

“He wanted to act before Cora could catch on,” Emylia explained. “This way, even if she does grow suspicious, he secures his role as king consort while he puts all the other pieces of his plan into place.”

“What is his plan? I know he intends to rule Menah, Khero, and Selay as one, and that he wants to use my marriage to Cora to make that happen, but…how?”

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling he’ll execute it at the signing of the peace pact.”

Teryn’s heart raced. Seven devils, the signing was to take place at the end of the month—eleven days from now. Larylis and King Verdian might already be on their way. When they arrived, Morkai would have every monarch—every person who stood between him and total rule—under one roof.

He cursed under his breath.

“There’s something else he’ll be working toward,” Emylia said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Once your marriage to Cora is secure, he’ll pour all of his focus into making his takeover of your body complete.”

Teryn straightened, a chill running through him. “What does he need to make the takeover complete?”

“He needs to forge a fate weaving. To do that, he’ll need your blood, his original body’s blood, and a Roizan. Your blood will be easy, for he merely needs to cut your flesh. As for his blood, well, I already told you about that; he has vials of it hidden somewhere. He always kept a stash of his own blood, as a precaution against using all the blood he’d stored in his crystal. Since Cora’s attempts to energetically clear the crystal emptied it of blood, his hidden store is his only option.”

Teryn’s mind spun as he worked to keep his breathing steady. “What about the Roizan? How long does it take for him to create one?”

“A Roizan can be forged in a single night, but it normally takes years to strengthen it with magic, to fill it with enough power for a fate weaving.”

“That’s some relief. I’ll be able to reclaim control by then. If not to remove the crystal and destroy it, then to figure out how to work my voice. Tell Cora the truth. She’ll see through him?—”

Emylia hung her head with so much defeat, he swallowed his words. Her voice came out small. “It may take years for a Roizan to be strong enough to work great magic, but Morkai doesn’t have years. Not even a single year. Perhaps not even a month.”

Teryn’s breaths grew shallow, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

She lifted her head and met his eyes with a mournful expression. “Being forced to rest your ethera isn’t the only thing that deteriorates your body. The mere act of being split like this will slowly wreak havoc upon your inner functions, day by day. There are only two things that can happen. Either Morkai succeeds and makes the takeover complete, or you reclaim your body and force Morkai out. Otherwise…you’ll die.”

His eyes went wide as dread sank every inch of his incorporeal form. He sagged against the doorframe once more. “Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?”

“If I’d told you early on,” she said, “you’d have succumbed to your fear. Fear and panic are what detach you from your vitale. Detaching from your vitale harms your bodily functions and prevents you from connecting to your cereba. You must keep that connection strong. Regardless of what you think I should have told you, it doesn’t change what must be done. You have one choice. One course of action.”

“Reclaim my body. Break the crystal.” The words came out flat. Even more hollow than they normally sounded on the spiritual plane.

“You focus on the former. I’ll work on solving the latter.”

He gave her a pointed look. “You mean the memory you can’t clearly see? And the vision that keeps telling you to stay the course?”

“It’s the best we have.” She gestured toward his sleeping body, dozing upon the bed. “Now is your chance to practice your side of the plan, Highness.”

Fueled with a stronger sense of determination—if not a deeper sense of dread too—he made his way toward the bed. He reached the side and glanced down at his sleeping form. A sick feeling coursed through him as he noticed the hollows of his cheeks, the bags under his eyes. And…was that a wisp of silver at his temple? Teryn leaned forward to get a better look at the strand. It was mostly hidden beneath his dark waves, but it was there. It reminded him too much of King Dimetreus’ hair, a silver-streaked brown that belied the king’s true age of nine-and-twenty.

Whether he had himself to blame for overexerting his ethera or if these physical signs of bodily strain would have begun to show regardless, he knew not. Either way, Emylia was right; his body was deteriorating.

He shifted his gaze to her. “How do you know so much? About Morkai? His plans? About what’s happening to my body?”

She gave him a sad smile. “I’ve been here for a long time. I’ve seen much of what Morkai does, and you aren’t the first soul I’ve encountered inside this crystal. You ask me why I kept the secrets I kept? Because I’ve seen this all before. Again and again. I’ve witnessed the dangers of knowing you’re running out of time. The madness that ensues. The futility that follows.”

He shuddered. “Has Morkai ever succeeded at fully possessing another body?” If so, then the body he knew as Morkai might not even be his original one.

“No,” she said.

Teryn was relieved at that. Yet, as he settled into his body’s frame, he realized something; just because Morkai hadn’t ever successfully transferred his soul to another body didn’t mean the previous souls had survived. More concerning than that was the question of why the sorcerer had ever considered possessing another body when he’d had his own. Before his death, he wouldn’t have had any need for a new body. Had he trapped other souls simply as a precaution?

Or was there more Emylia had left unsaid?