The night in Rosanwald was soundless.
Even the wind seemed to stop at the manor's edge — wary of the runes that bled faint blue across its walls. The whole estate felt suspended, as if time itself was holding its breath.
Zelene stood at the far end of the chamber, watching the rise and fall of Kael's chest.
The marks across his skin pulsed faintly — black fading to red, red to ash.
It looked almost peaceful, until you listened closely enough to hear the whisper beneath his breathing.
It wasn't a voice.
It was many.
She turned away.
Cassian was across the room, mapping sigils in the air — his precision almost surgical. "If we begin the ritual at dawn, I can redirect the first tether into containment. It will buy us hours — maybe less. But it will give you time to decide."
Zelene hesitated. "And if the seal breaks before then?"
Cassian looked at her, eyes shadowed. "Then your Duke will no longer be your Duke."
Her throat tightened. "Understood."
She waited until he turned back to his work before slipping away.
She found Kael in the adjoining hall — not asleep, just lying still, eyes open, staring at the vaulted ceiling as if memorizing every crack in the stone.
When she entered, he didn't turn his head.
"You should be resting."
"So should you." Her voice was quiet, careful. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "I've been thinking."
"That's dangerous," he murmured.
She managed a faint smile, but it didn't last long. "There might be another way."
That caught his attention. He turned, meeting her gaze. The curse flickered faintly in his eyes.
"Another way?" he repeated. "That guy outside said there wasn't."
"He doesn't know everything."
She lowered her voice, so soft it nearly broke apart. "There's something I haven't told him."
Kael frowned. "Zelene—"
"Listen." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling with something that wasn't quite fear — but close. "I was born with a gift. They call it Aether Requiem. It's not light. Not healing. It's… judgment. It can burn away sin — corruption, darkness, anything that defies its balance."
Kael's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't speak.
She looked down at her hands. "If this curse is born from something corrupt — something that should not exist — then maybe I can erase it. But…"
Her words faltered. "If I do, it might erase you too."
Silence.
Then Kael sat up, slow and deliberate, until their faces were only inches apart. His expression was unreadable — weary, yet fierce in its quietness.
"This is better," he said softly. "Better than you taking it yourself."
Zelene's voice cracked. "You could die."
"Then let it be me." His tone was steady, almost too calm. "If you have to judge something, let it be me. I trust you."
Her heart clenched. "You shouldn't."
"I already do."
The words hung between them — heavy, final, absolute.
Later, when she returned to the main hall, Cassian was still waiting. He looked up, studying her face for answers she didn't give.
"I'll need privacy," she said quietly. "Whatever happens… don't interfere unless it spirals beyond control."
Cassian hesitated. "Lady Zelene—"
"Promise me."
His jaw tightened, but he nodded once. "Very well. But if the seal begins to crack the wards—"
"Then stop me," she finished for him. "Until then, you wait."
Cassian's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer — curious, wary — before he turned away. "So be it."
She took one last look toward the chamber where Kael rested, the blue runes trembling faintly like veins of frozen lightning.
In that light, her shadow looked impossibly long — stretched thin between salvation and sin.
When she reentered the chamber, Kael was waiting, already sitting up despite his exhaustion.
No words passed between them.
Zelene knelt before him, her hands hovering just above his chest — the faint glow already forming beneath her palms, like starlight breaking through smoke.
The sigils on the floor began to stir in answer, recognizing something ancient, something that did not belong to mortal blood.
Kael exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. "If this works—"
"It will."
"And if it doesn't?"
Zelene looked up, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. "Then at least you won't face it alone."
The runes flared.
The curse stirred.
And somewhere deep beneath the Dravenhart line — beneath the world itself — something woke.