When Darius awoke, confusion clung to him for a brief moment. The ceiling above was unfamiliar. Then his vision cleared, and memory settled into place.

  He was not in Meredith’s house.

  He had stayed there the longest out of all their hiding places, long enough that the small room had begun to feel like his own. This place was different—plainer, borrowed. He shifted and realised he was alone. Favian and Tristan, who had shared the room with him the night before, were already gone.

  Muted voices drifted in from outside.

  Favian’s first, it was low. Then Tilda’s. Marshal’s followed shortly after.

  Darius pushed himself up and stepped out to join them.

  Outside, Marshal was tightening straps on a horse’s saddle, methodically. Tristan was nearby, preparing another horse, their movements were easy but purposeful, like men about to ride, not wander.

  Darius walked over to Favian and Tilda, keeping his voice low.

  “Where are they headed?”

  Tilda answered quietly, eyes still on the horses. “To check the boats for tonight’s mission. We need to be sure they haven’t been discovered.”

  Darius nodded. That made sense.

  Then Tilda glanced at him and added, “Brenna’s made breakfast. You should eat.”

  He didn’t need telling twice. Hunger hit him all at once. He turned and left almost immediately.

  Once Darius was gone, Favian turned and looked at Tilda.

  “I hope your plan works,” he said. “If it does… we’ll have more Truthers. Enough to really start pushing the Era of the Profane forward.”

  Tilda didn’t answer right away.

  Her expression tightened instead, worry showed through the calm she usually wore so well.

  Favian noticed at once. “What is it?”

  She hesitated, then spoke softly. “I’m scared I won’t live to see it. And if I die…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I’d return to my former life. I don’t even know if that’s possible anymore.”

  Favian exhaled slowly. “I doubt that,” he said. “But you’re not wrong to fear it. I do too.”

  There was a pause. Then, almost casually, Favian added, “What if we just kill the Emperor at the festival? End it all in one stroke.”

  Tilda shook her head. “The Emperor isn’t the heart of it. He’s noise, not the source. If we truly want it to end…” Her voice hardened slightly. “Then it’s the Valiants. All of them. And the Lord Valiant himself. Alongside the evil Viceroys”

  Favian nodded. “That’s true,” he said quietly. “It won’t be easy.”

  Then, after a beat, he added, “But I like your plan. It’s clever. Reminded me how smart you’ve always been.”

  Tilda flushed, a small smile touching her lips.

  Favian smiled back, softer now. “I really did miss you,” he said. “I thought about you a lot… while we were apart.”

  For a moment, she held the smile. Then it faltered.

  Tilda turned away, her gaze settling on Marshal in the distance as he focused on his horse, checking straps and reins, preparing to ride. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier than her expression.

  “You were gone for so long,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”

  She hesitated. “And Marshal and I were…”

  The words trailed off. She turned back to Favian, looking straight into his eyes, sadness there, along with a quiet hope that he would understand without forcing her to say more.

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  Favian gave a small, subtle nod. He understood.

  “It’s fine,” he said softly. “I get it.”

  Marshal called out then, his voice cutting through the moment. “I’m ready.”

  “Good,” Tilda replied. She turned back to Favian. “I should go with them. We need to check the boats.”

  Favian nodded, schooling his face, hiding the ache settling in his chest.

  He watched as she joined Marshal and Tristan, the three of them mounting and riding off together.

  Only when they were gone did Favian let out a deep breath, his eyes lingering on the empty road as the sound of hooves faded away.

  Inside the house, Darius settled at the table and accepted the breakfast Brenna offered him. The food was simple but warm, and he realised just how hungry he was. Cormac was nowhere to be seen.

  As he ate, Brenna joined him, setting her own plate on the table and picking at it quietly. For a while, neither of them spoke. The clink of cutlery and the creak of the house filled the silence.

  After some time, Darius lifted his gaze and glanced at her.

  “Tilda said you and Cormac arrived in this world two days ago.”

  Brenna nodded. “That’s right.” She hesitated, then added, “Cormac spun somewhere else. But my twin brother, Bryan, and I arrived together… at the riverbank.”

  “Together?” Darius asked. “You mean you both died at the same time… in your previous lives?”

  Brenna paused. Her eyes shifted, discomfort flickering across her face, followed by a quiet sadness. “Yes,” she said softly. “That’s correct.”

  Darius immediately realised he had crossed a line. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Every Truther has had to pass through death to be given this life. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s alright,” Brenna said, cutting him off gently. “I understand.” She looked down at her plate. “I just… miss my family. And my old life.”

  “You will,” Darius replied, trying to reassure her. “With time, you’ll get used to this world. Most of us do… eventually.”

  She was silent for a moment, then looked up at him. “If we’re killed here,” she asked, “do we return to our old lives?”

  Darius exhaled slowly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “No one does. But it’s best not to test it. Staying alive is the wiser choice.”

  Brenna sighed and returned her attention to her food.

  After another moment, Darius spoke again. “How did Bryan get caught?”

  Her grip tightened slightly around her fork. “When we spun at the riverbank, we were confused. Lost. We went into the market, hoping someone would help us.” She swallowed. “Bryan approached one of the soldiers. He thought they were there to protect people.”

  She shook her head. “They saw the bracelets on his wrist and seized him immediately. I wasn’t close enough for them to notice me. I ran.” Her voice dropped. “Marshal found me later that day and brought me to the others.”

  “I’m sorry,” Darius said quietly. “None of that should have happened to you.”

  Brenna nodded. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll do everything we can to get Bryan back,” Darius added. “I promise.”

  Her eyes softened. “Thank you,” she said again, more firmly this time.

  Darius smiled, and for a while, they ate in silence once more.

  Tilda and the others returned before noon, their report brief and reassuring. The boats were still hidden. Nothing had been discovered. Still, as the hours dragged on and daylight slowly bled into evening, anxiety began to coil tight in Darius’ chest.

  He had faced the Rageler with courage because the open world had been around him—space to run, to breathe, to fight. A prison was different. Stone walls and arrow corridors with no sky. If things went wrong, there would be nowhere to escape.

  Unbidden, the memory of the red dome crept back into his mind: the suffocating walls, the feeling of being caged, the way panic had threatened to drown his thoughts. He clenched his jaw.

  If things go south, he told himself, I’ll use the Spirit of Death.

  The resolve steadied him, if only slightly.

  Night finally fell, and with it came Tilda’s signal. It was time.

  They mounted their horses and left the cottage behind, Cormac and Brenna watching from the doorway. Tilda gave them clear, final instructions—if dawn came and they had not returned, they were to flee without hesitation.

  The ride to the nearby woods was swift and quiet. There, beneath the cover of trees, they dismounted and changed into the stolen military uniforms. Dirt and ash were smeared across cloth and insignia, dulling anything that looked too new. By the time they mounted again, they looked like weary soldiers returning from thankless duty.

  They rode toward the Shadow’s Keep.

  The streets were alive now. Lanterns glowed, laughter carried on the air, and music drifted from the direction of the city square. Crowds gathered, drunk on celebration and distraction. Exactly as Tilda had predicted.

  Each time they passed a patrol, Darius kept his face still and his posture rigid. He forced his breathing to slow, refusing to let his unease show. A single glance could unravel everything.

  At last, the dark bulk of the Keep rose before them— stone walls looming alongside watchtowers.

  As they approached the gates, Darius let out a slow, careful breath.

  This was it.

  The night that could shatter everything, or change the course of it all.