The voice returned before the dream had fully formed.
It did not come from any direction. It did not echo. It simply existed, pressed directly into Cassia's mind with an intimacy that made her chest tighten.
"You can't stop this."
She stood alone in an empty expanse, the ground beneath her indistinct, neither solid nor void. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction, not oppressive but deliberate, as if it had been prepared just for her.
"Your suffering shall be the agony of agonies."
The voice was beautiful. That frightened her more than anything else. It was smooth, almost gentle, and yet every word carried weight, sinking deep into her thoughts like something being carved rather than spoken.
"The death of deaths."
Cassia tried to move. Her feet slid forward, but the distance never changed. The space around her felt wrong, like it was folding inward without ever closing.
"And yet…"
Something shifted in the dark. Not a shape—nothing so simple—but a presence, vast enough that she felt small merely for standing near it.
"You'll find yourself unable to resist."
Cassia screamed.
She jolted awake, breath tearing from her lungs as she scrambled backward on her bedroll. Cold air burned her throat. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.
The mark on the back of her hand was glowing.
Not softly. Not faintly.
Violently.
She grabbed her wrist with her other hand, trying to still the shaking, but the tremor ran up her arm, through her shoulder, into her chest. It felt like something was pulling at her from the inside, not painful, but insistent.
"Cassia."
Achilles was already there, kneeling beside her. Jules stood just behind him, eyes fixed on the mark with an expression Cassia didn't recognize—concern, yes, but also unease.
"It won't stop," Cassia whispered. Her voice sounded small to her own ears.
Jules crouched closer, careful not to touch the mark. "It shouldn't still be active. Divine seals don't behave like this once they've settled."
Achilles frowned. "Does it hurt?"
Cassia shook her head. "No. It just feels like… like something's watching me."
Neither of them responded immediately.
They didn't know.
Cassia could tell.
"We'll keep moving," Achilles said finally, standing. "We can't afford to linger in this weather."
Jules hesitated, then nodded. "If it changes, even a little, you tell us. Immediately."
Cassia nodded, though the feeling in her hand did not fade.
The journey resumed under a sky the color of ash. Snow fell steadily, blanketing the world in white silence broken only by the crunch of boots and the wind cutting through ruined stone.
Cassia walked behind the others, dagger clenched in her gloved hand. The cold seeped through her clothes, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts drifted despite her best efforts, pulled backward to a place she hadn't thought about in months.
Aerinaelia.
She remembered warm streets and crowded markets, remembered lantern light reflecting off stone towers and the sound of bells ringing at dusk. She remembered the way her mother's hand felt in hers—calloused, steady, real.
It hadn't been a perfect city. But it had been alive.
Now it was gone.
She pressed her lips together, forcing the thought away. Thinking about it hurt too much, and she didn't understand why. She had lost many things since then. Why did this one ache more than the rest?
The path narrowed as they climbed higher, broken pillars jutting from the snow like the bones of something long dead. By the time night fell, the wind had grown sharper, carrying with it a faint, mournful sound.
Achilles stopped.
"There," he said quietly.
Cassia followed his gaze.
A massive structure loomed ahead, carved directly into the mountainside. Towers stood half-collapsed, banners frozen in place by ice. The gates were shattered, silver metal bent and twisted by time and force.
Ariel's castle.
Cassia's hand began to shake again.
They entered cautiously.
The halls were vast and empty, their grandeur preserved only in fragments. Murals lined the walls, cracked and faded, depicting winged figures gathered in celebration, in mourning, in battle. Feathers lay scattered across the floor, brittle and gray with age.
A faint sound drifted through the corridors.
Singing.
Low. Slow. Heavy with sorrow.
Cassia felt the mark pulse.
The sound led them deeper, past fallen columns and shattered statues, until they reached the throne room.
Ariel sat upon his throne.
He was clad in dark armor etched with pale inlays resembling broken wings. Frost clung to every surface, and a greatsword rested against the stone beside him, its blade veined with faint silver light. His head was bowed, his voice carrying through the chamber as he sang.
It was a lament.
He spoke names as if they were prayers, each one weighed down by grief.
"My friends," Ariel murmured. "My kin."
His voice broke.
"I remain. Only I remain… and Vryel still draws breath."
Cassia shrank back instinctively.
Ariel lifted his head.
His eyes found them instantly.
"You," he said. His voice was no longer mournful. It was sharp, burning. "You are the ones who hunted them. Who butchered divinity and sold the remains."
Achilles stepped forward. "We didn't—"
Ariel rose.
The temperature dropped sharply, frost crawling across the floor as he grasped his blade. "You will answer for it."
He moved.
Straight toward Hailey.
Cassia's breath caught. Her body refused to respond. She backed away blindly, heart hammering as fear swallowed every coherent thought.
Steel flashed.
Achilles lunged. Jules shouted. Artorius raised his staff.
But Ariel's blade was already descending, aimed directly for Hailey's neck.