The storm had moved on, but the house still breathed with it.
Zelene sat beside Kael again, the blue firelight casting a pale glow over his face. His chest rose and fell — uneven, shallow — but the mark had quieted, pulsing in time with something deep beneath the floor.
Cassian's words echoed in her mind:
"By giving the curse something else to bind to."
Her fingers trembled.
She had thought she'd come here to save him — not to trade one life for another.
Cassian stood by the runic table, his expression unreadable as he ground the last of the black salt into the sigil circle. The faint hum of old power filled the room.
"His condition is stabilizing," he said quietly. "But it won't last. The seal recognizes your presence. It's… reacting."
Zelene looked up sharply. "To me?"
Cassian's gaze met hers. "You carry light — old light. It's why the curse hates you. It was forged from something meant to oppose it."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The One Below feeds on despair, but it was never meant to consume love."
The words hit her like an unseen blade.
Before she could reply, Kael stirred.
His hand twitched, a faint groan escaping him. Darius, half asleep in the corner, jolted awake.
"Your Grace—"
Kael's eyes opened. For a moment, they were his — clear, human, tired. Then the red flicker returned, faint but there.
He struggled to speak. "Where… are we?"
Zelene leaned closer, relief and fear colliding in her chest. "Rosanwald. You're safe. Cassian's helping you—"
But Kael's gaze darted past her — to Cassian, to the faint glow of runes on the floor, to the circle carved with his family crest.
"Helping," he rasped. "Or preparing something?"
Cassian didn't flinch. "Both."
Kael pushed himself up, wincing as black lines crawled up his neck. "Explain."
Zelene opened her mouth — then stopped.
How did you tell someone their curse was a god waiting to wake? That the only way to save them might be to damn someone else in their place?
Cassian answered for her.
"The curse that binds you is a vessel seal. Its hunger grows. When it consumes you, the One Below will rise — and everything you've sworn to protect will fall."
Kael's jaw tightened. "And your solution?"
"Transfer the binding." Cassian's tone was steady, but something in his eyes betrayed hesitation. "We anchor it to another soul. One strong enough to hold it. One willing."
Silence. The fire cracked.
Then Kael laughed — quiet, disbelieving, cold.
"'Willing.' You think anyone would—"
"I would."
The words slipped out before Zelene could stop them.
The room went utterly still.
Darius's head snapped up. Cassian looked at her — startled, then unreadable again.
Kael turned to her, his face pale and sharp with disbelief. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Yes, I do."
"Zelene—"
"You can't keep carrying it alone!" Her voice broke, raw and trembling. "You'll die. And if you die, everything dies with you."
Kael's expression hardened. "Better me than you."
"That's not your choice to make!"
Something flared between them then — his curse, her light — clashing like two storms colliding. The air trembled.
The runes across the floor lit up in response, reacting to the pulse of their argument, to the thread that tied their fates together.
Cassian raised a hand, steadying the sigils before they burned out of control. "Enough," he said quietly. "The choice isn't made yet. But it must be soon. The vessel cracks faster than time allows."
He turned away, giving them a moment neither could use.
Zelene sank to her knees beside Kael, reaching for his hand. His fingers were cold, his pulse faint.