The manor was too quiet.
Servants moved like shadows through the halls, their steps muffled, their eyes lowered. No one met Elma's gaze anymore. The few that did lingered just long enough to whisper behind their hands.
"She's glowing," she caught one murmur as she passed.
Her jaw tightened.
The leash around her throat was cold tonight, not burning, not punishing—just watching. She felt Nitron's control in every step, but there was something else now, something heavier. The shard in her sleeve pulsed like a second heartbeat.
When she rounded the next corner, she slipped through a side door and shut it behind her. The room was empty, dust pooling in the corners. Perfect.
Elma drew the shard from her sleeve.
It was warm, faintly humming, sigils rearranging themselves with slow precision. She held it up, and the room seemed to tilt.
The glow spread.
Blue-gold light crawled from her palm into her veins, spiderwebbing across her wrist, up her arm, to her collarbone. Her breath hitched. She could feel it moving inside her, like lightning pouring through hollow bones.
A mirror leaning against the wall cracked straight down the middle. A candle flickered out.
"Elma."
She spun.
Calista stood in the doorway, face pale in the dim light. The shard's glow reflected in her eyes, making them look haunted.
"Close the door," Elma hissed.
Calista obeyed, stepping in and locking it behind her. She crossed the room fast, grabbing Elma's cloak to pull it around her, hiding the light.
"You can't let them see," Calista whispered, her hands firm but trembling.
Elma tried to steady her breathing, but the shard pulsed harder, almost angry. A whisper coiled in her head—not Nitron's voice. Something older.
We are awake.
Elma winced. "It's… talking to me."
Calista's hand cupped her cheek. "Is it hurting you?"
"Not yet," Elma muttered. "But it's hungry."
Calista's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then stop hiding it. Use it. Before it uses you."
That made Elma blink.
"You want me to… weaponize it?"
"I want you to survive," Calista said sharply. "If that thing is strong enough to burn through the leash, it's our best chance. You can't keep pretending you're just his weapon, Elma. Not anymore."
The shard pulsed like it agreed.
Elma searched Calista's face. The fear there wasn't for herself—it was for her. And that terrified Elma more than the shard's whispers.
"Then you better stay close," Elma said softly. "Because if this thing takes me over, I'm taking you with me."
Calista's lips curved faintly, a ghost of a smile. "That's the plan."
Before Elma could respond, a loud knock rattled the door.
"Lady Calista. Lord Vale requests your presence. Both of you."
They exchanged a glance.
Calista slipped her mask of composure back into place, all queen again. "We're coming."
The council chamber was full when they arrived.
Donors lined the long table, guards posted at every door. The ceiling arched high above them, lit by chandeliers that threw shards of gold light across polished marble floors. Nitron sat at the head of the table, swirling wine in a crystal glass, every inch of him calm authority.
"Wife. Weapon," he said smoothly as they entered. "How lovely of you to join us."
Elma's hand twitched near her sleeve. She forced it still.
They walked forward, every step echoing. Nitron's gaze swept over them lazily, like a predator deciding whether to hunt.
"I thought it time to… showcase my prized piece," he said. "Elma, kneel."
The leash constricted instantly, dragging her down. Her knees hit marble. The shard pulsed in protest, heat spreading under her skin. She bit back a gasp.
Nitron smiled faintly. "Obedient. Beautiful."
Calista's jaw was tight, but she said nothing.
"Now," Nitron murmured, "show them your loyalty. Strike the floor."
Elma's fingers curled into a fist. The leash burned hotter, demanding compliance. She slammed her palm into the marble.
The shard reacted.
Light flared beneath her skin, racing down her arm into the floor. A sigil burned into the marble under her hand, glowing blue-gold like molten glass. Gasps rippled through the chamber.
Nitron's smile froze.
He rose slowly, the calm cracking just slightly around the edges. "Interesting."
The sigil pulsed again. One of the guards stumbled back, clutching his chest. Another's torch flickered violently, snuffing out.
"Elma," Calista hissed under her breath.
Elma tried to pull the power back, but the shard wasn't listening. The glow spread farther, lighting the cracks in the marble like veins.
Nitron's hand twitched. The leash constricted hard, choking her breath, but the shard's light flared brighter, fighting him.
For the first time, Nitron's composure slipped. His wine glass shattered in his hand.
"Enough," he said sharply.
The leash yanked, and the light dimmed abruptly. Elma collapsed forward, gasping.
Silence blanketed the room. Everyone stared at her.
Nitron's voice was calm again, but it was ice. "Leave us."
The donors and guards obeyed quickly, filing out. Only Nitron, Calista, and Elma remained.
Nitron stepped forward, crouching to meet Elma's eyes. His gaze was unreadable.
"You've brought something dangerous into my house," he murmured. His hand brushed her jaw, not gently. "And it isn't you."
The shard pulsed once, defiant.
Nitron smiled coldly. "Do it again."