Zareth's POV
I'm burning the note when Seraphine breaks into my room for the second time tonight.
"What are you doing?" she demands, slamming the door behind her.
I drop the burning paper into my sink and watch the words Don't kill him, sister turn to ash. "What does it look like?"
"It looks like you're destroying evidence." Seraphine crosses her arms. In her hand, she's holding a small glass vial filled with black liquid that seems to swallow light. "And it looks like you're hiding something."
My heart pounds, but I keep my face blank. "I'm not hiding anything."
"Liar." She holds up the vial. "This is Voidwater. The only poison that can actually hurt an immortal. Cassian gave it to me to give to you."
I stare at the black liquid. It moves inside the glass like it's alive, reaching toward me. "Why didn't he give it to me himself?"
"Because he's testing you." Seraphine sets the vial on my desk carefully, like it might explode. "He wants to see if you'll use it. If you'll do whatever it takes to complete the mission."
"I always complete my missions."
"Do you?" Her eyes lock onto mine. "Because three hours ago, you were supposed to report for mark maintenance. You didn't. And now you're burning secret messages in your room at midnight. That doesn't sound like the perfect weapon I trained with."
I want to argue. Want to defend myself. But she's right. I'm not acting like myself. I'm not acting like a Reaper at all.
"The note was nothing," I finally say. "Just a threat from some Undying sympathizer. They think they can scare me."
"Show me."
"I already burned it."
"Of course you did." Seraphine moves closer. "Zareth, what's happening to you? Your marks are breaking. You're acting strange. And tomorrow night, you're supposed to hunt the most dangerous immortal alive. If you're not focused—if you're not yourself—he'll kill you."
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
Because the note said not to kill him. Because my sister—my sister who I didn't even know existed until tonight—is trying to protect him. Because everything Cassian told me might be a lie.
But I can't say any of that.
"I'm the best," I say instead. "One hundred and twenty-seven kills. I don't lose."
Seraphine laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You sound like me five years ago. Right before I almost died."
I remember that mission. The one that left her scarred and broken. We were hunting an Undying together—her first major target. Something went wrong. She came back different. Colder. Angrier.
"What really happened that day?" I ask.
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she sits on my bed, staring at the Voidwater like it holds all the answers.
"His name was Elias," she says softly. "He was two thousand years old. Cassian said he'd killed hundreds of people. Said he was draining magic from an entire village." She takes a shaky breath. "But when I found him, he wasn't hurting anyone. He was... teaching. In a school. With children."
My stomach twists. "What?"
"He was a teacher, Zareth. Showing orphans how to read. How to do magic without hurting themselves." Seraphine's voice cracks. "And when I attacked, he didn't fight back. He just... looked at me. And said, 'I understand. You're doing what they told you. But please, let the children leave first.'"
I can barely breathe. "What did you do?"
"I killed him. Right there. In front of those kids." She finally looks at me, and her eyes are full of pain. "I completed my mission. Got my marks. Became a Master Reaper. But those children's screams... I hear them every night. And sometimes I wonder if Cassian lied about Elias. If he lied about all of them."
The room feels too small. Too hot. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because tomorrow night, when you face Lysander, he's going to talk to you. He's going to show you things. Make you doubt everything." Seraphine stands and grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes. "And I need you to promise me you won't listen. That you'll complete the mission no matter what he says."
"Why do you care if I listen?"
"Because if you don't kill him, Cassian will send me to kill you both." Her grip tightens. "And I don't want to hurt you, Zareth. You're the only friend I have left."
Friend. The word sounds strange. Reapers don't have friends. We have training partners. Colleagues. Competition.
But looking at Seraphine—really looking at her—I see the truth. She's scared. Not of Lysander. Of Cassian. Of what happens to Reapers who fail.
"What if Lysander's telling the truth?" I whisper. "What if the Undying aren't the monsters we think they are?"
Seraphine drops her hands like I burned her. "Don't. Don't even think that."
"But what if—"
"There is no 'what if'!" She's shaking now. "The Empire needs us, Zareth. Without us hunting immortals, they'll drain all the magic. People will starve. Children will die. We're heroes. We have to be heroes, because if we're not..." Her voice breaks. "If we're not heroes, then what are we?"
Murderers. The word hangs between us, unspoken but deafening.
"Take the Voidwater," Seraphine says, pushing the vial toward me. "Use it if you have to. Just... come back alive. Please."
She leaves before I can respond.
I pick up the vial carefully. The black liquid inside pulses against the glass, hungry. One drop of this could paralyze an immortal for hours. A full vial could kill them.
Could kill Lysander.
Could kill the one person who knows where my sister is.
I should take it. A good Reaper would take it. A smart Reaper would use every weapon available.
But my hands won't move.
Instead, I open Lysander's file again. Flip through pages and pages of supposed crimes. Villages destroyed. People killed. Magic stolen.
But no proof. No witnesses. Just Cassian's word.
Just like he gave his word that my family was dead.
I find another photograph near the back of the file. This one shows Lysander standing with six other people—the original Undying Sovereigns. They're in front of a massive crack in the sky, dark and terrifying. And they're holding hands, glowing with power, sealing the crack with their combined magic.
Written underneath: The Seven Anchors save reality. First Year of the New Age.
Anchors. That word again. The same word my mother used in my memories. "Little anchor," she called me.
Why?
I'm about to dig deeper when someone knocks on my door. Again.
"I said go away, Seraphine!"
"It's not Seraphine." A different voice. Older. Male.
My blood turns to ice.
I open the door to find Cassian standing in the hallway, smiling.
"May I come in, my dear?"
I can't say no. He's the High Luminary. My commander. The man who made me everything I am.
I step aside.
Cassian enters slowly, looking around my small room like he's never seen it before. His eyes land on the Voidwater sitting on my desk.
"Ah, good. Seraphine delivered it." He picks up the vial, holding it to the light. "Beautiful, isn't it? Void essence, distilled and weaponized. One of my greatest creations."
"Sir, it's late—"
"I couldn't sleep." He sets the vial down and turns to face me. "Tomorrow night, you leave for your final hunt. I wanted to see you. Make sure you're ready."
His eyes drop to my arms. To the cracks bleeding silver light.
"Your marks are progressing nicely," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes my skin crawl. "Right on schedule."
"Schedule for what?"
"For ascension, of course." He steps closer. "Zareth, do you know why I chose you from the Trials? Why I trained you personally? Why I made you into my perfect weapon?"
"Because I was the best."
"No." His smile widens. "Because you were the only one who could complete the cycle."
"What cycle?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls out a small knife and holds it to his palm. "May I show you something?"
Before I can respond, he cuts his hand. Blood wells up—red blood, human blood—and drips onto my desk.
Then he takes my hand and presses it to the wound.
Pain explodes through my arm. The silver marks burn like fire. And suddenly, I can feel something—magic flowing from him into me, then from me into... somewhere else. Somewhere dark and hungry.
"What are you doing?" I gasp, trying to pull away.
His grip is iron. "I'm showing you the truth. The marks don't just suppress your emotions, Zareth. They feed on your essence. Your immortal essence. Every day, every hour, they drain you and channel that power to me."
No. No, that can't be—
"You're half-Undying," Cassian continues calmly, like he's discussing the weather. "The daughter of an immortal. That makes you incredibly valuable. Immortal essence without immortal rebellion. A renewable source of power that I can control completely."
I yank my hand free. "You're using me? This whole time?"
"I'm utilizing you. There's a difference." He wipes his hand clean. "And tomorrow night, when you kill Lysander, the final piece falls into place. His death will trigger your marks to consume your full immortal core. All that power—yours and his combined—will transfer to me. I'll become truly immortal while you... well, you'll finally rest. No more pain. No more confusion. Just peace."
He's going to kill me.
He's been planning to kill me since the day he took me from the Trials.
"Why tell me this?" I whisper.
"Because I want you to understand." He cups my face gently, the way a father might. "You've served so faithfully. You deserve to know that your death has meaning. That you're saving the Empire. That you matter."
I should attack. Should grab Silverbane and run him through.
But I'm frozen. Trapped. The little girl who trusted him is screaming inside my head, begging this to be a nightmare.
Cassian kisses my forehead. "Get some rest, my dear. Tomorrow is your big day."
He leaves, taking my hope with him.
I sink to the floor, shaking. The marks burn. My chest hurts. Everything hurts.
On my desk, the Voidwater sits innocently.
Next to it, Lysander's file lies open to the photograph of the Seven Anchors.
And on my wall, new words appear in silver light:
HE KNOWS YOU KNOW
RUN
My door slams open one more time.
Not Seraphine. Not Cassian.
Marcus, the junior Reaper, breathing hard. "Zareth! The Spire—the whole building—it's locked down. Cassian's orders." His eyes are terrified. "He's moved your departure to tonight. Right now. He said if you try to run, we're ordered to kill you."