He looked up at them, and Naomi saw something in his eyes that made her want to step back. Not fear—Xavier had faced down Thornbeasts and ancient knights without flinching. This was something deeper, more personal.
"Duke Haverford knows everything. He's known from the beginning. The caravan attack, our arrival in Hearthome, even our infiltration tonight—all of it was planned. He's been studying us, mapping our neural pathways, learning how divine consciousness interfaces with mortal vessels."
"Why?" Margaret's voice came out as a whisper.
"Tomorrow night," he said, his voice raw. "The Masquerade. He's not just celebrating. He's... harvesting. He's going to bind the souls—the children's souls—to these bodies. Permanently. And then he's going to use Calypso... channel all of us through her... like a damn battery."
Naomi felt the blood drain from her face. She'd known Haverford was ambitious, but this went beyond mere political maneuvering. This was cosmic blasphemy.
