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But I’m already slipping away.

Reality wavers around me, the obsidian walls of our chamber becoming translucent, then transparent.

The Opal Court materializes around me, its architecture both familiar and alien.

“No,” I whisper, bracing both hands on the nearest wall. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”

The court pays no heed to my protest. It pulls me deeper, the corridor lengthening with every step. Light flows through crystalline veins, the lifeblood of some vast creature, converging ahead where a figure waits, half-emerged from a wall that cradles him within a womb of crystal.

Elionn.

His silver hair floats around him as if suspended in water, and the translucent quality of his skin allows me to see the crystal formations growing within. His eyes, though, remain unchanged, silver irises bright with recognition at my presence.

He reaches for me, arm extending from the crystalline growth that consumes him. “Come back to me.”

I lunge forward, desperate to reach him, to pull him free from his prison.

“Elionn, hold on. We’re coming. Today, at moonrise⁠—”

“No time,” he interrupts, his body going rigid with the effort of fighting the court’s hold. “It grows stronger. Consuming. Changing me.”

Crystal crawls across his chest, and fractal patterns bloom beneath his skin. A shudder runs through him, but he never breaks our connection.

“How do I free you?” I demand, still fighting to reach him.

“Opal must merge,” he gasps. “The court will accept no substitute for what was lost.”

Before I can ask what he means, reality snaps back into place with brutal force. The Opal Court vanishes, and I crash back into my body in the Dark Sithe chamber, my body convulsing as my nervous system struggles to reconcile two realities.

My body arches backward, muscles locked in rigid agony. I topple toward the unforgiving stone floor, unable to control my limbs or break my fall.

Theron catches me before I hit the ground, his arms secure around my twisting form. He gathers me to his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head to prevent injury as the seizure grips me.

“Hold on,” he commands, cutting through the roar in my ears. “Fight it, Amalia.”

Silver threads erupt from his palms, flowing into me where our skin connects. The magic races through my veins, countering the invasive burn of Opal with its steady radiance.

The court recoils from his interference, Opal threads retreating from the surface of my skin, diving deeper where Silver cannot reach.

My breathing returns in ragged gasps as the convulsions subside, leaving my limbs weak and trembling. Sweat soaks my clothing, the chill air turning the damp fabric clammy on my skin.

Theron’s arms remain around me, magic still flowing in measured pulses that push back the darkness inside.

I grip his wrist, my fingers digging into his flesh as I anchor myself to his solid presence. “I saw Elionn.”

Theron’s body tenses, caught between hope and fear. “Where? How?”

“The court took me there. He’s still alive, but—” A sob catches in my throat. “We’re running out of time.”

Theron shifts toward me, one hand coming up to cup my cheek, and his thumb brushes away moisture I hadn’t realized was there. “Then we will stop waiting.”

The simple declaration settles between us, weighted with promise. I search him for doubt or hesitation and find only a king’s resolve and a brother’s devotion.

“The court may try to claim you, too,” I warn, my hand rising to cover his where it cups my cheek.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “It will find me difficult to consume.”

I want to argue, to remind him of his duties, of all the reasons he should send others in his place. The words die on my lips as another pulse of Opal light races through me, bringing Elionn’s warning with it.