Night came without ceremony. Clouds drifted low over Everfell, muffling the moon and dimming the cliff paths with a soft gray. Kael tightened his cloak around him as he moved toward the eastern gate. The old path Seraphina mentioned waited beyond the stables, a narrow route once used by messengers who carried sealed letters between the palace and the quay.
He found Seraphina by the gate before he could call for her. She stood beneath the stone arch, the lantern beside her lighting her profile in warm gold. Her hair was tied back loosely, a few strands slipping free as if the wind insisted on touching them.
"You are early," she said.
"You said the house does not sleep," Kael replied.
"Neither does the quay," Seraphina murmured. She handed him a small knife wrapped in plain cloth. "Do not use it unless the man refuses to speak. He is stubborn, not violent."
Kael took the knife with more gratitude than he voiced. "This man at the quay. What do I call him?"
"Call him what he calls himself," Seraphina said. "He changes names as often as tides change direction. Tonight he answers to Foret."
Kael paused. "And he will speak to me because the house wants him to?"
Seraphina looked toward Everfell, the way a person looks toward someone who speaks from the shadows. "The house whispered his name when you touched the ledger. That is reason enough."
She stepped closer, close enough that their breath mingled in the cold. Kael could not tell if she meant the distance or if the house pulled them like threads drawn into a knot.
"Kael," she said softly, "truth grows sharper the longer it stays buried. Be careful how you cut it free."
He nodded. Her warning settled deep in him. For a moment he waited for her to step back, but she lingered as if searching his face for something she could not name. When she finally turned, the lantern flickered and the house stirred behind her, as if it had been listening.
Kael left the palace grounds and followed the cliff path downward. The wind carried the smell of salt and distant metal. The old route twisted between rocks and low shrubs that hid the drop to the sea. It was not a path meant for horses or guards. It was a place for secrets to travel quietly.
By the time he reached the quay, lanterns had been dimmed to thin sparks. Most boats swayed with soft creaks, ropes shifting in rhythm. The water slapped against the posts with slow insistence.
Foret waited near a storage shed built partly into the cliff. He was older than Merrow, shorter too, with a thick coat and a face marked by a long life spent in wind and worry. He had a book tucked under his arm and a pipe between his teeth, though it was unlit.
"You walk heavy for a prince," Foret said without greeting.
Kael stopped a few steps away. "And you wait loudly for a man who is supposed to be difficult to find."
Foret chuckled without humor. "If a house wants me found, hiding feels pointless."
The man pushed open the shed door and gestured for Kael to follow. Inside, a tight room smelled of dust and lye. Bundles of rope hung from the beams. Crates filled one wall, each marked with shipping codes. A single table stood at the center with a lantern and a spread of parchments.
Foret set the book on the table and exhaled deeply. "I know why you are here."
Kael did not sit. "Then start talking."
Foret raised one brow. "That depends on what you think you deserve to know."
Kael held his temper. "The ledger mentions vessels. Plural. It mentions the Saint. It mentions handlers who were chosen. Tell me what was in those crates."
Foret tapped a finger on the lantern's metal rim, thinking. "Do you know what happens to memory when too many hands try to shape it?"
Kael did not answer.
"It splits," Foret continued. "Like shoreline rock beaten by waves. Men carve their names into it, but the sea takes back what matters."
Kael took a step closer. "Foret. The crates."
Foret's eyes grew tired. "Spirits do not cling to wood or metal. But power does. Those vessels carried parts of something that should not have been split. A voice. A prayer. A piece of a soul. The Circle wanted to bind them. The council wanted to hide them. So the crates came here."
Kael felt a coldness settle into his stomach. "You stored pieces of her?"
Foret nodded. "Pieces of what she could have become. The council feared that if the Saint held all her power, she would stop listening to men. They feared a ruler they could not command."
"And the Circle?"
"The Circle wanted her to ascend. They whispered of changing tides and new dawns. They believed she was chosen in a way none of us understood."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "And you helped them."
Foret did not flinch. "I carried what I was paid to carry. But I also kept records. Men who fear truth often forget to burn their own shadows."
Kael looked at the parchments on the table. "Show me."
Foret opened the book he had brought. It contained lists of shipments, coded marks, and notes that did not appear in the official ledgers.
Kael read silently.Vessels marked S.Vessels humming at dusk.Do not move without the girl's presence.Seal broken once. Air changed. Storm approaching.
"The girl," Kael said. "Elira."
Foret leaned against the table. "She came here once. Before the council locked her in the cathedral. She touched one of the vessels. It lit like dawn captured in glass. She said it felt like water breathing."
Kael's throat tightened. "Did she know what the council planned?"
"No," Foret said. "But she knew the sea was calling her. She feared it would call too loudly."
Kael closed the book sharply, unable to read further. "Where are the vessels now?"
Foret looked up at him with a hesitation that stirred dread. "Not here."
"Where?" Kael demanded.
Foret drew a shaky breath. "In a room beneath Everfell. A locked room. A room I was told to forget."
Kael froze. The house had led him to hidden corridors, but he had not reached this room.
"Who locked it?" he asked.
Foret hesitated again. "The Duke's father. And someone from the council who always wore blue. He had a way of speaking that made men feel small. He said the vessels were too dangerous to leave near the sea."
Kael felt the walls of the shed close in on him. "You will show me the exact place."
Foret nodded reluctantly. "I will. But one warning, prince. The room was sealed not to keep things inside, but to keep things from remembering."
Kael stared at him. "Remembering what?"
Foret swallowed. "Who they belonged to."
A shiver ran through Kael. He gathered the book and tucked it under his arm. "You come with me now. Everfell will want your voice."
Foret did not argue. He extinguished the lantern, then stepped out into the night.
As Kael followed him back toward the path, he felt a shift in the air, a faint tremor rising through the stones. Everfell had felt the truth move.
And it was waking deeper parts of itself.