The archway sealed behind them with a sound like cracking bones. Keth spun to see solid stone where the opening had been—no sign of Valtheris, the wolves, or the blood-slick crypt. Only darkness and the ever-present pulse of the Mark.
They stood in a corridor that shouldn't exist. The walls were made of fused skeletons, thousands of hollow eye sockets staring blindly. The air smelled of burnt hair and old roses.
A whisper of movement. Keth turned to find the woman from their vision standing inches away—the one with the crowns for eyes. Up close, she wasn't human. Her skin shimmered like oil on water, her smile stretching too wide.
"Little thief," she crooned. "You've come to pay your debt."
Keth stepped back. "I didn't steal anything."
The creature laughed, and the sound made Keth's teeth ache. "You carry the Mark. That makes you either thief or heir." She leaned in, her breath smelling of funeral incense. "Which are you?"
Before Keth could answer, the wall exploded.
Rhis tumbled through in a shower of bone fragments, her left arm hanging useless at her side. Behind her, Valtheris fought three snarling werewolves, his shadow blade cutting through the dark.
The crown-eyed woman sighed. "Mongrels in my halls. How tedious." She snapped her fingers.
Rhis convulsed, her back arching unnaturally. A wet crunch echoed through the corridor as her bones rearranged themselves. When she stood again, her eyes gleamed the same eerie gold as the creature's crowns.
Valtheris went very still. "Ah."
Keth looked between them. "What just happened?"
"The huntress made a deal," the crown-eyed woman purred. "Her body for passage." She stroked Rhis's cheek. "Moon-touched make such excellent vessels."
Rhis—or what was left of her—turned toward Keth with a predator's grin. The Mark on Keth's chest burned white-hot as understanding dawned.
This was the enemy.
The thing behind the gate.
And it was wearing their only ally's skin.
Valtheris moved first. His blade flashed toward Rhis's throat—only to stop inches away, frozen by some unseen force.
The crown-eyed woman laughed. "Still swinging that pitiful shadow, little prince?" She patted his cheek. "Your line always did prefer lost causes."
Keth's vision swam. The Mark pulsed in time with the creature's words, each beat driving a spike of pain between their eyes. They stumbled back, hitting the skeletal wall—
And remembered.
_Not a corridor. A prison._
_The fused skeletons weren't decoration. They were warnings._
_The Mark wasn't a key. It was a shackle._
The crown-eyed woman's smile faltered as Keth looked up. "Oh," she murmured. "You do remember."
Keth spoke through gritted teeth. "You're the thief."
The prison trembled.
Valtheris's frozen blade inched closer to Rhis's throat.
And the true battle began.