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We needed to bring the One Below to the place where the seal had first been anchored.

We had to bring her to Hoopingarner House.

Back to where every single bit of this had started—the tomb, the carvings, the chamber where my own blood had cracked open the truth carved into stone. That was where the old Magic still lived. That was where the crown could reconnect to whatever it had been built to hold shut.

"I can't cross the barrier," Kai flatly said, like he was bracing for an argument.

"Right."

"Martha..."

"No." I looked him dead in the eye. "Margaret did it their way. She lost her Mate and never came home. We're doing it my way– everybody comes home."

I wasn't just refusing to repeat history anymore. I was designing the alternative, right there in the back room of a laundromat. Finally, something felt better than anything had felt in four months.

Carol worked out how the plan would work. "The barrier exists because the Guardian was meant to stay outside and hold the Door," she slowly said. "But if we bring the One Below Above– to the Door, instead of sending you Below to reach her– Kai may never need to cross it at all."

The fight would happen on our side. Queen, Witch, Guardian– all three of us in the same room for once.

"So, instead of me going to Hell..."

"Below," Carol corrected.

"Whatever." I waved my hand between us. "Instead of me going down there..."

"We bring Hell to us," Zelda said.

"See? She gets me." I gave a nod in Zelda's direction.

Her hand jerked, suddenly and sharply, before anybody could enjoy my joke for even one full second.

The mark had moved. Just slightly– a thin dark vein crawling another inch up her forearm.

Everybody went quiet.

Carol grabbed her wrist. I watched her expression change in real time.

"It's growing."

"That sounds bad," I whispered.

"It is." Carol's voice had gone tight. "The tether's strengthening. She's pulling from her end too."

And then the mark spoke.

Not from Zelda's mouth. The voice came straight out of the black and silver line, distorted, layered, furious.

"Give me the Queen."

"No," Chewy immediately said.

Everyone looked down at him.

"What? We're voting, right?"

The mark pulsed again, and this time it said my name. My actual name.

"Martha."