The silence before the crack broke was worse than the fighting outside.
The ward-gold hummed like an overstrained bowstring, every rune on the walls vibrating with the same pitch. The survivors pressed back toward the edges of the chamber, clutching one another, their breath misting in the freezing air.
Jayden's grip on the green-bound hilt was slick with sweat, even in the cold. The blade felt heavier than it had in the vault—as if the presence in the room was pulling at it, calling to it.
The masked figure didn't move closer. Didn't need to. Their presence filled the space between heartbeats.
"Your wards," they said softly, "are dead stone pretending to be alive."
A pulse of shadow rolled out from them, invisible but heavy enough to push Jayden a half-step backward. The mages staggered, one dropping to a knee, clutching his head. The runes along the wall dimmed another shade.
Aerin didn't retreat. She stepped forward, placing herself firmly between Jayden and the intruder, her moonsteel axe in her other hand now, the frozen torch hanging at her belt. "You've had your fun," she said flatly. "Leave before you learn what a locked door feels like on your side."
The mask turned toward her, tilting slightly, like an entomologist regarding an interesting insect. "I like your spirit," they said. "You'll keep it until the end."
Then their head turned back to Jayden.
Come.
The word wasn't spoken aloud. It came inside his skull like a warm hand pressing into the back of his neck.
And for one terrifying moment, he wanted to.
The second rhythm was pounding now, so loud it made the hair on his arms stand. His silver flame surged, but instead of blazing outward, it curled inward, drawn toward the masked figure like iron filings to a magnet.
He fought to hold onto it—and that was when the first ward broke.
It shattered with a sound like a scream dragged backward through glass. A visible fracture of golden light split the wall, spraying molten sparks before guttering into nothing. Cold spilled in like a tide.
The survivors cried out. Guards slammed their spear-butts into the floor, forming a half-circle between the figure and the rest of the room.
The figure didn't break their gaze from Jayden. "Every second you hesitate costs them another life."
The second ward broke.
This time, the crack spread up into the ceiling, running through the carved dome. Dust rained down in thin trails.
Aerin's jaw was tight. "Jayden, if you're going to do something, do it now."
"I'm trying—" His own voice sounded distant in his ears. The rhythm inside him was so loud he could hardly hear himself think.
He tightened his grip on the sword hilt. The hum from the blade was changing—faster, sharper, like it was matching the rhythm in his chest.
The figure seemed to notice. "Ah. You've awakened it. Good."
They stepped forward at last, crossing the space between them in two gliding motions. The guards lowered spears, but before they could thrust, a wave of frost swept the floor, locking their boots to the stone.
Jayden felt the frost touch the tips of his own boots and burn like fire.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," he said.
The mask tilted. "Then watch them die."
The third ward broke.
Not just a crack this time—half the wall blew inward in a storm of shattered stone and curling shadow. The cold hit like a physical blow. Through the breach, Jayden saw the courtyard beyond… and the Shadowborn pouring through the keep like water through a burst dam.
The survivors screamed. Some of the guards tried to break free from the frost to meet the rush.
Aerin snarled something in a language Jayden didn't know, swinging her axe. A shockwave of raw light burst from the blade, slamming into the masked figure. It forced them back half a step, cloak flaring like wings in a wind.
For the first time, Jayden thought he saw them bracing.
"Run!" Aerin barked.
But Jayden didn't move. The masked figure's focus was still locked on him—and he could feel the pull inside him deepening, stretching toward something he couldn't name.
The silver flame roared in his veins, but it wasn't just silver anymore. Strands of deep, liquid black threaded through it, curling like smoke.
And then, in that mingled flame, he heard another voice.
Not the masked figure's.
If you open the door, I will fight them.
Jayden froze. Who—
The other half of you. The one they want.
The masked figure's head tilted again, as if they'd heard it too. "Interesting," they murmured.
Aerin didn't wait. She grabbed Jayden's arm and yanked him toward the survivors, toward the narrow side passage that led deeper into the keep's lower vaults.
Behind them, the Shadowborn poured through the breach.
And the masked figure finally moved to follow.