Cassian's POV
The guards weren't human anymore.
Their faces had split open like rotting fruit, revealing something underneath—something with too many teeth and eyes that glowed sickly green. They moved wrong, joints bending in directions that should have been impossible.
"Parasites," Seraphiel hissed in my mind. "They've dropped their disguises. We're in serious trouble."
I raised the Kinslayer, hands shaking. "Stay back!"
The lead creature laughed—a sound like breaking glass. "The prince commands us? How precious. You chose the cursed blade, boy. You have no authority here."
"Actually," a voice rang out behind the creatures, "he has all the authority."
High Priestess Morrigan stepped into view, and she looked different. Younger somehow. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
"The binding is complete," she announced, her voice carrying across the gardens. "Prince Cassian Solmere has bonded with a sacred weapon. Ancient law is clear—no bonded heir can be denied their right to rule."
The parasites snarled. "That law applies to worthy heirs! Not ones who choose cursed blades!"
"The law makes no such distinction." Morrigan's eyes blazed. "I should know. I helped write it."
"Three hundred years ago," Seraphiel whispered. "She helped Daemon create that law to protect me. In case anyone ever chose me again."
More figures emerged from the palace—nobles, advisors, Father's council. And at their head, Matthias, his perfect mask back in place.
"High Priestess," he said smoothly, "surely you don't expect us to accept this. Prince Cassian has bonded with the weapon that drove Prince Daemon to madness and murder."
"Prince Daemon was innocent!" Morrigan's voice cracked like thunder. "He was framed by the same creatures that have been feeding on this kingdom for a thousand years!"
Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd. Several nobles took steps backward.
Matthias's smile went cold. "Careful, Priestess. Those sound like treasonous words."
"Then arrest me." Morrigan spread her arms. "But you can't, can you? Because the moment you do, everyone will wonder why you're so desperate to silence me."
*"She's baiting him,"* Seraphiel said. *"Forcing him to either back down or reveal himself."*
Matthias's jaw tightened. For a moment, I saw something flicker behind his eyes—that ancient, cold intelligence I'd glimpsed when he tried to kill me.
"The binding can be broken," he said finally. "For the good of the kingdom, we must—"
"NO!" Father's voice boomed across the gardens.
Everyone turned. King Aldric stood at the palace entrance, supported by guards. He looked terrible—pale, sweating, trembling. But his eyes were clear. Focused. *Fighting*.
"The law... is absolute," Father gasped, each word seeming to cost him. "My son... has chosen. The bond... cannot be broken."
"Your Majesty, you're unwell," Matthias moved toward him. "Let me help you back to—"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Father's shout echoed off the palace walls. The guards supporting him stumbled back, shocked.
For just a moment, Father stood alone. And I saw terror in his eyes—not of me, not of the Kinslayer, but of something *inside* himself.
"Cassian," he said, voice breaking. "Run."
Then his body seized. His eyes rolled back. And when he looked at me again, something else stared out through his face.
"Foolish," the thing wearing Father said in that horrible layered voice. "You think ancient laws can protect you? We made those laws. We've been shaping this kingdom for a thousand years, and one cursed blade won't stop us."
Seraphiel growled in my mind. "The parasite's taking full control. Your father can't fight it anymore."
The possessed king raised his hand, and the parasites wearing guard-faces moved forward. No more pretending. No more hiding.
"Seize the prince," Father's voice commanded. "If he resists, kill him. We'll simply bring him back again."
Again.
They'd done this before. Killed me and brought me back, over and over, until my soul was strong enough for whatever sick ritual they planned.
"No," I said quietly. Then louder: "NO!"
The Kinslayer blazed in my hand. Seraphiel's power flooded through me—three centuries of rage given form.
"I am Prince Cassian Solmere!" My voice echoed across the gardens. "Bonded heir to the throne of Astrion! And by ancient law, you cannot deny my right to rule!"
"Ancient law?" The thing in Father's body laughed. "We'll write new laws. We'll erase you from history. We'll—"
"You'll do NOTHING!"
A new voice. Cold. Commanding. Familiar.
Lady Elara Nightshade stepped out from the crowd, her Shadowstrike daggers gleaming at her belt. Behind her came more nobles—younger ones, ones I recognized from training yards and council meetings.
"Prince Cassian invokes his legal right," Elara announced. "Any who oppose him oppose the sacred binding itself."
Other voices joined hers. Count Aldrich. Duchess Sera. Even some of the guards—ones whose eyes still looked human.
"This is treason!" Matthias snarled.
"No," Morrigan said firmly. "This is the law. You want to break it? Then do it in front of everyone. Let them all see what you really are."
I watched Matthias's face cycle through expressions—rage, calculation, frustration. He was trapped. If he pushed too hard, he'd have to reveal himself. Drop the mask completely.
And whatever plan he had, it wasn't ready for that yet.
"Very well," he said finally, his voice like ice. "The law will be... respected. For now." His eyes met mine. "But the prince must undergo evaluation. To ensure the Kinslayer's influence hasn't compromised his mind."
"Agreed," Morrigan said before I could protest. "Three days hence, in front of the full court. If Prince Cassian proves his sanity, his right to rule stands."
Three days. They were giving me three days.
*"It's a trap,"* Seraphiel warned. *"They'll use that time to prepare. To plan. To—"*
*"I know,"* I thought back. *"But it's also time for us to prepare."*
The possessed king—my father's stolen body—stared at me with those horrible layered eyes. "Three days, little prince. Enjoy them. They'll be your last."
Then he turned and walked back into the palace, the parasite-guards following. But not all of them. Some stayed, watching me with hungry eyes.
The crowd began to disperse, nobles whispering and shooting me nervous glances. Some looked sympathetic. Others terrified. A few—the ones whose eyes didn't quite move right—looked eager.
Elara approached, her hand resting on her daggers. "My chambers. Now. We need to talk."
"Can we trust her?" I asked Seraphiel.
"Her grandmother served me. The Nightshade family has been trying to expose this conspiracy for generations." A pause. "But trust? In this court? That's a dangerous word."
Still, I followed Elara through the palace corridors. Morrigan came too, moving faster than any sixty-seven-year-old should be able to.
"The binding spell on her is breaking," Seraphiel explained. "The one that kept her from revealing the truth. My freedom is unraveling their magic."
We reached Elara's chambers—a small room overlooking the eastern gardens. The moment the door closed, Elara rounded on me.
"You absolute idiot!" she hissed. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"Chosen the only weapon they don't control?"
"Declared war on creatures that have ruled this kingdom for a thousand years!" She paced like a caged animal. "They're going to kill you, Cassian. Or worse—use you for whatever ritual requires six deaths."
I blinked. "How do you know about the six deaths?"
"My grandmother's journals." Elara pulled out a leather-bound book, its pages yellow with age. "She documented everything. The parasites' feeding cycles. The soul-harvesting rituals. The way they cultivate certain bloodlines, killing and reviving the same souls until they're powerful enough to—"
"To anchor the divine realm to the mortal world," Morrigan finished quietly. "Let the old gods return. Or rather, let the things pretending to be gods return."
The room went silent.
"The Solmere bloodline is the key," Morrigan continued. "You're descended from the first king, who made a bargain with these creatures. They've been feeding on your family ever since, waiting for a soul strong enough to break the barrier between realms."
"And Cassian's died three times," Elara said. "Which means—"
"Three more deaths, and I'm ready." My voice came out flat. "They'll kill me during the evaluation, won't they?"
"Probably." Seraphiel's voice in my mind was grim. "They love their public executions. Makes the revival more dramatic."
I sank into a chair, head in my hands. Three days. Three days to figure out how to survive creatures that had been manipulating my family for generations.
"There has to be a way to fight them," I said desperately.
"There is," Morrigan said. "But you won't like it."
I looked up. "Tell me."
The old priestess exchanged glances with Elara. Then she pulled out a small crystal vial filled with black liquid.
"This is distilled essence from the Shadow Citadel," she said. "The place where Seraphiel was executed. Where the barrier between realms is thinnest. One drop can reveal a parasite's true form—force them to drop their disguise entirely."
"That's perfect!" I reached for the vial, but Morrigan pulled it back.
"It's also agonizing for any Solmere who touches it," she continued. "Your bloodline is connected to the parasites. This essence will burn you from the inside out. You'd have maybe thirty seconds to use it before the pain incapacitates you."
"Not ideal," Seraphiel muttered.
"But if we expose them in front of the full court," Elara said slowly, "if everyone sees what they really are—"
"The parasites lose their power," Morrigan finished. "They rely on secrecy. On manipulation. Force them into the open, and they're vulnerable."
I stared at the black liquid. Thirty seconds of agony to expose centuries of lies.
"I'll do it," I said.
"Cassian—" Elara started.
"I've already died three times. What's a little more pain?"
Seraphiel's presence in my mind turned almost... warm? "I'm starting to like you, little prince."
A knock on the door made us all freeze.
"Lady Elara?" A servant's voice. "Lord Matthias requests the prince's presence in the council chamber. Immediately."
My blood ran cold. "Already?"
"Told you it was a trap," Seraphiel said.
Elara moved to the door, hand on her daggers. "Tell Lord Matthias the prince is resting. He's had a trying day."
"Lord Matthias insists, my lady. He says..." The servant's voice dropped. "He says if the prince doesn't come willingly, guards will be sent to collect him."
Morrigan's face went pale. "They're not waiting three days. They're making their move now."
I stood, the Kinslayer heavy in my grip. "Then I guess I'm going to a council meeting."
"Not alone you're not," Elara said firmly.
"The law says I can't bring armed allies to a council meeting."
"Good thing I'm just a concerned friend then." She smiled grimly. "Besides, they didn't say anything about unarmed allies."
"This is a terrible plan," Seraphiel warned.
"You have a better one?"
"Run. Hide. Let them think you're scared while we gather actual allies."
"And leave Father in their control? Let them hurt more people?"
"Your father's already lost, Cassian. Has been for twenty years. Saving him now—"
"Is the right thing to do." I headed for the door. "You wanted revenge on these parasites? Then let's start taking it."
Seraphiel laughed—sharp, delighted, slightly unhinged. "Oh, little prince. I think we're going to get along just fine."
We walked through the palace corridors, Elara and Morrigan flanking me. Servants and guards watched us pass, and I couldn't tell which ones were human anymore.
The council chamber doors loomed ahead—thick oak carved with the Solmere crest. I could feel Matthias's presence on the other side. And something else. Something cold and ancient and hungry.
"Ready?" Elara whispered.
"No," I admitted.
"Good. Means you're not completely insane."
I pushed open the doors.
The council chamber was full. Not just Matthias, but a dozen other advisors. And in the center, sitting on Father's throne—
My father's body. But the thing looking out through his eyes wasn't him.
"Hello, little prince," it said in that horrible layered voice. "Let's discuss your future. Or rather—" Its smile was wrong, too wide, too sharp. "Let's discuss your fourth death."
The doors slammed shut behind us.
And I realized we'd walked straight into their trap.