Keth woke to the taste of ash and the sound of screaming.
Not their own. Not human.
The cavern was gone. They lay on cold marble in a ruined hall, sunlight streaming through shattered stained glass. The air smelled of burning roses.
Valtheris knelt nearby, his shadow blade broken in two. Before him thrashed the crown-eyed creature—no longer in Rhis's body, but trapped in a swirling vortex of black blood and golden light.
"You," the creature snarled, its voice fracturing like broken mirrors. "You lying, thieving, mongrel prince!"
Valtheris wiped blood from his eyes. "Took you long enough to notice."
Keth tried to stand, then gasped. The Mark was gone. In its place—a scar in the shape of a key.
Valtheris noticed their movement. "Don't get up. The binding isn't complete."
As if on cue, the creature howled and lunged against its prison. The golden light flickered.
Keth crawled forward. "What did you do?"
"Paid a debt." Valtheris touched the hilt of his broken blade. "My ancestors didn't build the Gate to keep her out. They built it to keep her in."
The creature's shrieks grew louder. The light dimmed further.
Keth's scar burned. They remembered—
_A hall full of kneeling figures. A throne made of hollowed-out stars. The crown-eyed creature smiling as she placed the first Mark on a willing volunteer._
Not a shackle.
A leash.
Valtheris coughed blood. "The Marks were never meant to lock the Gate. They were meant to..."
"Control her," Keth finished. The memories kept coming—worlds the creature had unraveled, kingdoms she'd devoured, all while wearing different faces. "The Blood Kings weren't jailers. They were handlers."
A wet laugh from the vortex. "And what does that make you, little heir? Trainer or pet?"
The light flickered again. Valtheris swayed. "We're out of time."
Keth looked at their scar. At the broken blade. At the creature's too-wide smile.
Then they made their choice.
They reached into the vortex and grabbed the creature's wrist.
"Neither," Keth said.
And pulled.