The first thing Elowen learned about Blackspire Castle was that it never slept.
Even in the quiet hours before dawn, the walls breathed heat, and the stone beneath her bare feet pulsed faintly, as though the mountain itself remained half-awake. She had been given food—simple, filling, unmistakably human—and water drawn warm from some hidden spring deep within the rock. No one had poisoned it. No one had tested her.
That, somehow, unsettled her more.
She paced her chambers, aware of the constant presence beyond the door. The guards did not speak. The demons did not blink. Every movement she made was observed, measured, remembered.
She was not a prisoner.
She was a variable.
When the warmth stirred beneath her ribs again, Elowen stopped short. It was quieter than before, no flare of light or heat—just a pressure, like something coiled and restless beneath her skin. She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing slowly until it eased.
This was not sickness. She knew that with absolute certainty. Her body was strong. Whole.
Whatever this was, it was something else entirely.
Later, when the castle fully woke, Kael did not come to her.
Instead, others did.
A demon with ash-dark skin and burning silver eyes appeared near her door, bowing just low enough to be insulting. "The Lord of Blackspire wishes to observe," it said.
"Observe what?" Elowen asked.
The demon smiled. "You."
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