Sasrir set off at dawn.
There were no dramatic farewells, no last-minute speeches. That would have invited doubt, and doubt was poison. He took Kai and Effie with him, slipping away along the path I had traced so many times it was burned into my mind. Before they left, I handed over everything that mattered.
Both of my Shard Memories.
And the Unshadowed Crucifix.
I explained its nature, its limits, the rhythm of blood and activation. Effie was the one who carried it—partly because she volunteered, partly because it was simply practical. She had more blood to spare than either Kai or Sasrir, and she would not hesitate when it mattered.
When they vanished beyond the broken ridgeline, it was done.
Seishan, Gemma, and I remained behind, left to weather the inevitable fallout. Gunlaug would notice. Gunlaug would rage. Gunlaug would punish. That much was certain.
It was not going to be easy.
But it was the only foreseeable path that allowed me to take the Dawn Shard.
That Memory was too potent to ignore—especially after Sunny had upgraded it to Supreme in the Tomb of Ariel. This was not like the Mantle of the Underworld or Stone Saint, powerful tools I merely desired.
This was like the Weaver's Mask.
I needed it.
"I just hope I don't die while waiting for it," I muttered.
Gemma shot me a venomous look. After a brief exchange of glances with Seishan, he said nothing, turned on his heel, and began walking back toward the Castle.
He did not look back.
Soon, it was just the two of us.
Me, and the breathtaking young woman standing beside me.
Breathtaking not because of beauty alone—though she had that in abundance—but because she could snap my neck in a heartbeat, and I would not even realize I was dead until I hit the ground.
"Adam."
A simple word. A simple name.
Yet it carried an unsettling weight, as though she were calling something into focus rather than merely addressing me. For a brief, absurd moment, I wondered why she bothered saying it aloud. I was right there.
Still, manners mattered.
"Yes, Seishan?"
"As I said back there," she continued calmly, "we've known each other for just over a year. I consider you a pleasant partner." Her tone was measured, almost gentle. "You've helped many of my sisters. More than a few of them have developed feelings for you."
Her scarlet eyes locked onto mine.
"So, for their sakes," she said, "I recommend you tell me the truth. Are you one of the Dreamspawn?"
The question was asked in utter seriousness.
Her blood-red eyes were steady and unblinking, like polished rubies set into ash-grey skin that reflected the dim light. Gone was the seductive grace, gone was the poise she wore like armor. Here, now, she was exposed—direct, unguarded.
For the first time, I could read her clearly.
And so I laughed.
"The Dreamspawn?" I said lightly. "You mean Asterion?" I shook my head. "No. No, I have nothing to do with him. Though I'll admit my Aspect resembles the Heart God's Lineage." I smiled faintly. "But believe me, we have no connection."
Seishan's expression faltered.
"Adam," she said slowly, "what exactly are you?"
The shift—from who to what—did not escape me.
I didn't dwell on it.
I reached for my neck instinctively, then remembered the Crucifix was gone. My hand fell back to my side.
"I'm nobody, Seishan," I replied. "Just a spectator. Watching the play from the sidelines. It's not my fault the actors keep dragging me onto the stage."
She stared at me.
And then her beauty collapsed into horror.
Her eyes rolled back, whites showing with raw red edges. Her mouth split open far wider than it should have, revealing rows of circular teeth, layered and sharp like a shark's. Her skin darkened, bones cracking and shifting beneath it, hands elongating into hooked claws.
The Lineage of the Beast God.
No matter how many times I saw it, it never failed to disgust me.
She crossed the distance between us in less than a blink.
A clawed hand closed around my throat and lifted me off the ground. My body swung slightly in the breeze, boots scraping uselessly against empty air. Her grip tightened, nails digging in as thin rivulets of blood traced their way down her fingers.
Yet even with death so close—facing the very fate I had joked about moments earlier—I simply stared down at her, my expression unchanged.
"Aren't you going to struggle?" she asked.
Her voice sounded wrong, muffled and distorted, like it was coming from beneath deep water. "Beg? Negotiate? Threaten me with Sasrir?" Her grip tightened further. "Are you really fine with dying here?"
"Who says I'll die here?" I asked calmly.
My blue eyes did not ripple, did not waver. They might as well have been carved from ice.
"You won't kill me, Seishan."