The meeting took place in a neutral space—a white room Brother Ignatius had blessed and warded extensively. No windows. No shadows. Nowhere for Pryce to draw power from.
Rhys sat in a chair, Liam beside him, Brother Ignatius standing guard.
And then Pryce appeared.
Rhys gasped.
The ghost looked... diminished. Not weaker, exactly, but smaller. Less imposing. His eyes—once black with power—were now just gray. Human.
"Hello, Rhys," Pryce said quietly. He didn't approach, staying near the far wall. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."
Rhys said nothing.
"I'll keep this brief. I know you don't owe me your time." Pryce's voice was steady, but Rhys could hear the tremor underneath. "I wanted to apologize. Not to make you forgive me or to ease my own guilt. Just to acknowledge, out loud, what I did to you."
Silence.
"I violated you," Pryce continued. "While you slept. I told myself it wasn't assault because you responded, because your body seemed to want it. But consent requires consciousness. Requires choice. And I took that from you."
Rhys's hands clenched.
"I murdered six people you loved across six lifetimes. I destroyed Elara—a girl who never betrayed me, who loved me despite my flaws, who deserved so much better than what I gave her. I tortured an innocent woman because I was too afraid to trust, too broken to believe I deserved love."
Pryce's form flickered slightly.
"I cursed your soul to three hundred years of suffering because I couldn't handle my own pain. And even when given chances to stop, to change, to let you go... I chose possession over freedom. Control over trust. My comfort over your safety."
A tear—ghostly, impossible—tracked down his face.
"There's no undoing what I've done. No apology that brings back the dead or heals your trauma. But I needed you to hear this from me: You were right. About everything. I wasn't in love. I was obsessed. I didn't cherish you. I owned you. And that was unforgivable."
Pryce finally looked directly at Rhys.
"I'm sorry. I'm truly, genuinely sorry. And I hope someday—maybe not in this life, but someday—you can think of me without pain. You deserve that peace."
He stepped back, preparing to return to his isolation.
"Wait," Rhys said.
Pryce froze.
Rhys stood slowly. "Four years in total isolation. Just you and your thoughts. That's what you've had?"
"Yes."
"And it changed you? Actually changed you, not just made you better at manipulation?"
"I don't know," Pryce admitted. "I understand what I did wrong now. I feel genuine remorse. But whether that's true change or just four years of desperation to escape loneliness... I honestly can't say. That's for others to judge, not me."
Rhys studied him. Looked for the monster he remembered. The obsessive ghost with black eyes and possessive touch.
He saw only a broken man, diminished by consequences, trying to be honest.
"I forgive you," Rhys said.
Pryce's eyes widened. "What?"
"Not for what you did. I can't forgive that. But I forgive the boy who made terrible choices. The prince who was raised wrong and loved wrong and never learned better until it was too late." Rhys's voice was steady. "That doesn't mean I want you in my life. Doesn't mean I've forgotten. But I'm choosing not to carry hate anymore. That's for me, not for you."
Pryce's form flickered violently, emotions too strong to contain.
"Thank you," he whispered. "That's more grace than I deserve."
"Yes. It is." Rhys turned to Brother Ignatius. "Can he be released now? Has he served his sentence?"
The monk looked to the air—consulting with the Void Lord that only he could sense.
"The Void Lord says the contract requires your approval for release. If you believe he's genuinely reformed, he can be freed."
"Not freed," Rhys corrected. "Relocated. I don't want him roaming free. But eternal isolation is too much." He looked at Pryce. "Send him somewhere he can exist but not harm. Somewhere peaceful where he can continue working on himself. But not nowhere."
Pryce looked stunned. "You'd do that? After everything?"
"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I believe in second chances. Even for monsters." Rhys held his gaze. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't. I swear it."
The Void Lord's presence swept through the room.
THE MORTAL HAS SPOKEN. THE GHOST SHALL BE RELOCATED TO THE IN-BETWEEN—A PLACE OF REST FOR SOULS SEEKING REDEMPTION. HE MAY NOT LEAVE. MAY NOT CONTACT THE LIVING. BUT HE WILL NO LONGER SUFFER ABSOLUTE ISOLATION.
Pryce's form began to fade—not into nothingness, but into somewhere else.
His last words before vanishing: "Thank you. For everything. I hope you find all the happiness I tried to steal from you."
Then he was gone.
Rhys collapsed into his chair, shaking.
Liam immediately wrapped arms around him. "You okay?"
"I don't know. That was harder than I expected."
"You were incredibly brave."
"Was I right? To let him go to somewhere less awful?"
"Only you can answer that." Liam kissed his temple. "But I'm proud of you either way. You chose compassion without letting him manipulate you. That takes strength."
Brother Ignatius approached. "The curse is truly, completely ended now. Pryce has no claim on you. No connection. You're free in every sense."
Rhys closed his eyes, feeling the truth of it. The last thread connecting him to seven lifetimes of suffering had finally been cut.
"Can we go home?" he asked Liam quietly.
"Yeah. Let's go home."