Zareth's POV
The golden light slams into me like a hammer.
I fly backward, crashing through a crystal pillar. It shatters into a thousand pieces that rain down like sharp stars. Pain explodes through my back, but I'm already rolling, already moving, already attacking.
Because that's what I do. That's all I know how to do.
I charge at Lysander with Silverbane raised. "You said you'd help me!"
"I am helping you!" He throws up a shield of golden light. My sword crashes against it, and sparks fly everywhere. "I'm getting us out of here!"
"By attacking me?"
"By making them think we're fighting!" He dodges as I swing again. "Zareth, please, I need you to trust—"
I don't let him finish. I'm done trusting. Done listening. Done being used.
Cassian used me. The Empire used me. And now this ancient immortal thinks he can use me too, filling my head with visions and promises while Seraphine and sixty Reapers close in to kill us both.
No. I'm taking control. I'm finishing this my way.
I feint left, then strike right. Lysander barely blocks in time. His shield cracks. Golden light bleeds through like blood.
"Stop!" he shouts, backing away. "You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly." I press forward, driving him across the throne room. "You've been manipulating me just like Cassian did. Waiting for me. Planning for me. Using my sister to make me trust you."
"That's not—"
"Shut up!"
I unleash everything I've learned in twenty-one years of training. Every technique. Every trick. Every killing move that made me the Empire's perfect weapon.
And Lysander doesn't fight back.
He defends. Dodges. Blocks. But he never attacks. Never tries to hurt me.
It makes me angrier.
"Fight me!" I scream, slamming my blade against his shields over and over. "Stop holding back!"
"I can't hurt you, Zareth. I promised your mother—"
"My mother is dead because of you!" The words rip out of me, raw and bleeding. "If you hadn't involved her in your immortal war, if she'd just been normal, Cassian never would have killed her!"
Lysander's face crumbles. "You're right."
His shield drops.
I freeze, sword raised for a killing blow. He's completely open. Defenseless. One thrust and this is over.
"Do it," he says quietly. "If you think I'm lying, if you believe Cassian's version of the truth, then kill me. Complete your mission. At least it will be you."
My hands shake. The marks on my arms burn so hot I can barely hold my sword.
Behind us, Seraphine laughs. "How touching! The monster wants to die at his executioner's hands. Go on, Zareth. Give him what he wants. Give us what we want."
The other Reapers circle closer, weapons ready. They're not here to help me. They're here to make sure Lysander dies and I die with him.
Cassian's plan, playing out exactly as he designed.
"Three minutes," Lysander says, his golden eyes locked on mine. "That's all I'm asking. Three minutes to explain before you decide."
"Why should I listen to anything you say?"
"Because in three minutes, those Reapers are going to attack whether you kill me or not. Cassian sent them to make sure you both complete the mission and die in the process. You know I'm right."
I glance at Seraphine. At the cold emptiness in her eyes. At the way the other Reapers are spreading out, cutting off all escape routes.
He is right.
"Fine," I snarl. "Three minutes. Then I kill you anyway."
"Fair enough." Lysander takes a slow breath. "The Undying don't steal magic. We anchor reality. Three thousand years ago, the barrier between our world and the void began cracking. Without anchors—immortals binding their life force to the world's foundation—everything would collapse into nothing. Seven of us volunteered to become immortal to prevent that."
"That's insane."
"Look at my blood." He holds out his hand, and I see the cut from where my sword nicked him earlier. Gold liquid drips onto the floor. "Immortal blood is gold because it's woven with star essence. We're literally part of the world's fabric now. When Cassian kills us and harvests our essence, he weakens the anchors. Each death brings reality closer to collapse."
"Cassian said—"
"Cassian lied." Lysander's voice is gentle but firm. "He discovered the truth about anchors thirty years ago. Instead of protecting us, he decided to kill us and steal our power. He's been systematically murdering my family—our family—to fuel his own immortality."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" He points to my arms. "Look at your marks. Really look."
I glance down. The cracks have spread further, and through them, I can see something I never noticed before. Tiny runes carved into my skin beneath the silver ink. Runes that pulse with each heartbeat, draining something from deep inside me.
"Those are extraction runes," Lysander explains. "They've been feeding on your immortal essence since Cassian gave them to you. You're half-Undying, Zareth. Your mother was Reverie, the Third Anchor, guardian of dreams and memory. When she fell in love with your mortal father and had you, it should have been impossible. But you exist anyway—a bridge between mortal and immortal."
My chest tightens. "No..."
"Cassian killed your mother and took you because you're the key to his ritual. Immortal essence without immortal rebellion. A battery he can drain forever." Lysander's voice cracks. "And when you kill me—the last anchor—the marks will consume your entire immortal core. All that power will transfer to Cassian. He becomes a god. You die. And in three years, reality collapses because there's no one left to hold it together."
I can't breathe. Can't think.
"Two minutes," Seraphine calls out. "Wrap up the sob story, monster. Time to die."
"One last thing," Lysander says urgently. "Your sister. Lyra. She's alive because I found her before Cassian did. I've been protecting her, training her, keeping her safe. If you kill me, she loses the only family she has left. If you let them kill both of us, she's alone in a world that's about to end."
"Where is she?" I whisper.
"Close. Watching. Waiting to see if you'll remember her." He smiles sadly. "She looks just like you, you know. Same stubborn determination. Same fierce heart. She believes you can break free of Cassian's control. I hope she's right."
Seraphine raises her chakrams. "Time's up! Kill him now, Zareth, or we kill you both!"
I look at Lysander. At his golden eyes full of three thousand years of grief. At the way he's standing there, ready to die, hoping I'll choose to save him instead.
I look at my arms. At the marks that have been draining me my whole life. At the prison Cassian built inside my own skin.
I look at Seraphine and sixty Reapers who were sent here to make sure I don't survive this mission.
And I make a choice.
I spin around and throw Silverbane at Seraphine.
She dodges, but it gives Lysander the opening he needs. Golden light erupts around us—not attacking, but protecting. A shield that pushes the Reapers back, buying us seconds.
"What are you doing?" Lysander gasps.
"Something stupid." I grab his hand. "You said there's a way to break the ritual. Teach me. Now."
"It's not that simple—"
"I don't care!" The marks on my arms are screaming, burning, trying to force me to attack him. But I hold on tighter. "You promised to protect me. You promised my mother. So keep your promise and help me destroy Cassian's plan!"
For the first time since I met him, Lysander smiles. Really smiles. Like I just gave him something precious he thought he'd lost forever.
"Hold on," he says.
The golden light intensifies. The ground beneath us cracks. And suddenly, we're falling—
No. Not falling.
Flying.
We shoot up through the broken palace roof into the eclipse-darkened sky. Seraphine screams in fury below us. Reapers throw spears and cast spells, but we're already too high, too fast.
Lysander carries us across the ruins of Aeternum, his power wrapped around me like wings made of starlight.
"Where are we going?" I shout over the wind.
"Somewhere Cassian can't find us. Somewhere I can teach you what you need to know." He looks down at me, and his expression is serious. "But I need you to understand something, Zareth. Breaking the ritual means confronting every person you've killed. Every memory the marks suppressed. Every piece of yourself you carved away to become a weapon. It's going to hurt worse than anything you've ever felt."
"I don't care."
"You will. When you're screaming and begging me to make it stop, you'll care."
"Then you better make sure I survive it." I squeeze his hand. "Because I'm not dying until I meet my sister. And I'm not letting Cassian win."
We land in a hidden valley surrounded by crystal cliffs. The moment my feet touch ground, my marks explode with fresh pain.
I collapse, screaming.
Lysander catches me before I hit the ground. "It's starting. The marks know you're rebelling. They're trying to force you back under control."
"How do I—" The pain cuts off my words.
"You fight. And I'll help you." He presses his hand to my chest, right over my heart. Golden light flows into me, pushing against the silver burning in my marks. "But you need to know something else. Something I should have told you before."
"What?" I gasp.
His face is grave. "If we succeed in breaking the ritual, if we free you from Cassian's control... you'll have to kill me anyway. Not for Cassian. For the world. Because I'm dying, Zareth. The poison from all the murdered anchors is eating away at my essence. I have maybe a year left. And when I die, someone needs to take my place as the final anchor."
My heart stops. "Who?"
He doesn't answer. But his golden eyes say everything.
Me.
I'm supposed to replace him. Become immortal. Live forever watching everyone I love die. Become the thing I've been hunting my entire life.
"No," I whisper. "There has to be another way."
"There isn't. But—" He smiles gently. "—we have time to figure out if there could be. First, we save you. Then we worry about saving the world."
The pain intensifies. I scream again, and this time I don't stop.
In my mind, I see them. All of them.
One hundred and twenty-seven faces. One hundred and twenty-seven immortals I've killed.
And they're all staring at me with the same question:
Was it worth it?