I don't hear her footsteps.
I only realize Nova's standing behind me when her reflection sharpens in the gold-trimmed glass along the corridor wall.
I turn, scroll still tucked inside the sleeve of my cloak.
My voice is already halfway to a question when she cuts in quietly, "They've summoned you."
I pause. "Summoned?"
"To the Hall of Petitions," she confirms, voice low but composed. "The Seelie leaders want to speak with you."
I narrow my eyes. "About?"
Nova looks at me——really looks at me——and for the first time since I returned, I see something flicker across her face that isn't poise.
Pity. Or maybe a warning.
"They didn't say."
She doesn't wait for me to speak again. Just turns and begins walking, expecting me to follow.
I do.
The hall stretches long and arched before us, lined with high windows and light that doesn't quite reach the floor. As we move, I feel it——eyes. From the corners of the rooms. From the arches overhead. From cloaked attendants who turn too quickly when I pass.
They're watching me now.
Not with curiosity.
With caution.
Nova doesn't speak again until we reach the doors.
Tall, white marble carved with symbols of judgement and truth. The air here hums. Not like magic. Like expectation.
She rests her hand on the handle, then glances at me.
"They'll want you to be calm," she says. "Measured. Like you were when you first arrived."
"I'm not who I was when I first arrived."
Nova gives a single, almost imperceptible nod. "I know."
Then she opens the doors.
The Hall of Petitions is wide, domed, and cold.
Three Seelie leaders sit in elevated chairs carved from crystal and veined with silver. Behind them, the great window glows with filtered daylight, casting fractured light across the floor.
I step forward alone.
Nova remains at the threshold, as silent as stone.
No one introduces me.
No one asks me to sit.
The central figure——a tall woman with skin like copper leaf and hair braided in rows that gleam gold in the light——leans forward slightly.
Her voice is smooth. Practiced.
"You've returned from Nox."
I don't blink. "I have."
"Few do."
"I'm not like most."
That earns a ripple of quiet between the others, but no one interrupts.
Another speaks——this time a man with pale silver eyes and long ears ringed with ancient bone cuffs.
"You were given access to the archives."
"I found what I needed," I answer, carefully.
"More than what you were meant to find, we've heard."
I don't flinch. "Did you meant for me to find nothing at all?"
They don't answer.
Instead, they third——an elder fae whose voice sounds like it's made of winter itself——finally speaks.
"Tell us about the pendant."
The question isn't unexpected.
But the way it's asked——sharp, stripped of ceremony——makes something twist in my gut.
"What do you want to know?"
"Where it came from. What it's shows you."
"You're asking the wrong questions," I say evenly.
"And what are the right ones?"
"Why you buried a bloodline," I say, stepping forward, "then acted surprised when the grace refused to stay closed.
Silence.
The kind that could end in punishment. Or history.
I hold their stares.
They don't know how much I've pieced together. Not yet.
And I'm not going to hand it to them.
Not until I know who I'm playing against.
Not until I know which one of them already knew the truth.
***********
Nova's POV
I don't follow her out.
Sarah leaves the Hall with her shoulders square, her pace steady. She doesn't look back——not at the leaders, not at me.
She's changed.
Not hardened. Not reckless.
Refined.
Like pressure has carved her into something sharper.
I remain at the edge of the chamber until the Seelie seats empty one by one, their whispers trailing behind their silence. No one addresses me. No one needs to. I was there to observe.
Just like always.
But the moment I turn toward the eastern corridor, I know I'm not alone.
Alette waits at the far end, framed by the pale light of the crystal atrium beyond. She doesn't speak. Just turns and walks, expecting me to follow.
We enter the quiet atrium together, a room meant for clarity——meant for judgement without an audience.
The doors close behind us.
Alette doesn't waste time.
"She used a phrase that hasn't been uttered in this Court for more than a century," she says, her voice low and crisp. "Not by chance. Not by accident."
I meet her gaze, unmoved. "No, not by accident."
She studies me. Not surprised. Just confirming what she already suspected.
"You gave it to her," she says.
It isn't a question.
"I gave her what the Court buried," I answer. "She deserves to know why."
Alette's hands fold in front of her. Her posture serene. Her fury tucked behind decades of practiced control.
"You know what happens if that phrase is heard outside these halls."
"I do," I say softly. "And I know what happens if it's never heard again."
A flicker of something in her eyes——resentment, or regret. Maybe both.
"We protected what we could," she says. "When the UnSeelie shattered the balance, we chose survival."
"We chose silence," I correct. "And called it peace. We never dug into any of our suspicions."
Her lips tighten.
"We cannot afford another fracture."
"No," I agree. "But if we let the UnSeelie speak louder than truth again…."
I step closer, my voice steady.
"…..we won't have a Court left to protect."
Alette exhales once, sharply. "You're aligning with a girl who hasn't even seen the whole truth."
"Maybe," I say. "Or maybe I'm aligning with someone who can bring the truth to light and survive it."
The silence between us sharpens.
Then, without a word, Alette turns toward the door.
She doesn't warn me again.
She doesn't have to.
Because I already made my choice.
*********
Lilly's POV
I've stayed away longer than I should have.
Not out of cruelty.
Out of fear.
Because the moment I look her in the eye, I'll have to face what I didn't stop.
What I helped bury.
I keep telling myself there will be a better time A safer one. When the Court quiets, when she's ready, when I am.
But I never stopped watching.
Not really.
From the high corridors and mirrored alcoves of the west wing, I've watched her walk differently. Speak differently. I've watched the others lean back as she leans forward.
She doesn't need me.
I've been tucked away in the old wing beneath the observatory tower——where the protective wards are fading, and the echoes of Lumindellar still remember my name. It's where they used to keep broken artifacts and forgotten banners, remnants of a time the Court doesn't talk about anymore.
I stay here because no one else does.
Or they didn't.
Until now.
The shift comes like pressure behind my eyes. A tightening. Barely perceptible——unless you know how to listen for it.
Lumindellar bends.
Not in greeting.
In warning.
I move toward the nearest arch, pressing against the stone just as a presence sweeps through the corridor below——slow, heavy, composed.
The light dims—-not from shadow, but from something more deliberate. The kind of power that doesn't need to announce itself.
I look down——and see him.
Dark robes. No sigil shown, but none needed. His bearing says enough.
UnSeelie.
And across from him——
Sarah.
My stomach tightens. My hand finds the edge of the stone railing.
He holds something——an ornate scroll sealed in a wax I recognize but never trusted.
Sarah stands across from him, alone. Two guards at her back, but neither moves.
They don't intervene.
They don't even shift.
Because this isn't an attack.
Not on the surface.
It's a summons masked as an envoy.
A threat dressed in protocol.
The envoy raises the scroll.
His voice is quiet. Too quiet.
"You are to appear before the full Court. Immediately."
She doesn't answer.
She doesn't flinch either.
But I see the way her hand drifts to the pendant at her chest. The way it glows——hot, sharp, sudden——like it's reacting to him the same way I am.
Like it remembers.
The envoy steps close.
Not fast. Not threatening.
Just…..presumptuous.
Entitled.
And that's enough.
That's when I move.
Down the narrow servant's stair, across the inner mezzanine, through the cracked-lintel door no one remembers still opens.
The envoy doesn't see me until I speak.
"You'll lower your hand."
My voice slices through the corridor——-calm, cold, final.
He turns, slowly.
Sarah spins too——her eyes locking onto mine like I've stepped out of a ghost story she was never meant to finish.
She doesn't speak.
Neither do I.
Not to her.
Not yet.
I face the envoy fully.
"She will not be take," I say.
"This is a summons," he replies, "not a request."
"And I am Lumindellar's shield," I return. "If you have a message, you'll deliver it. And then you'll leave."
For a beat, no one moves.
Then he extends the scroll——not to Sarah. To me.
He places it in my hand like a weight passed from one war to the next.
The wax hums beneath my fingers. Familiar. Dangerous.
He doesn't bow when he leaves.
He doesn't need to.
When the corridor stills, I finally turn to face her.
She's staring at me.
Not angry.
Not relieved.
Just stunned.
"You're here," she says.
My throat tightens.
"I've been watching," I admit.
"You stayed away."
"I didn't know how to come back."
Her jaw clenches. She glances down at the scroll. "And now?"
Now, I don't know if I have a choice.
"I'm here."
She doesn't answer.
But she doesn't walk away either.
That's more than I deserve.
And maybe, just maybe, it's enough to start again.
**********
Justin's POV
I don't follow Sarah this time.
I follow him.
The UnSeelie envoy moves like the message still drips from his hands—-measured, deliberate, venom dressed in velvet.
He doesn't look back.
They never do. Not when they think they've already won.
I watch from the shadows just beyond the stone arches, concealed in the alcove of the old storm corridor, where the fae forget to cast light.
The black cloak.
The wax seal.
The expressionless exit.
It's not just a summons.
It's a declaration.
My hands tighten at my sides. Fingertips grazing the stone, jaw locked so tightly it hurts. I know what that crest means. I know the family who designed it, the court that sanctioned it, the names hidden beneath it.
And I know what it costs when it appears without warning.
Whatever time I thought I had——whatever window I still believed in to explain everything, to tell her the truth——-
It's closing.
Fast.
The envoy slips past the final arch and disappears into the northern hall, footsteps barely touching the ground.
And still, the corridor feels darker in his wake.
I glance forward the upper level, just far enough to catch a flicker of movement.
Sarah.
Still standing there.
Lilly at her side now, a scroll clutched in her hand.
That's new.
That's dangerous.
Because if Lilly is stepping back into the light, it means the game's already changing.
And Sarah——-wow, Sarah——she's not the girl I first met in the halls of that rusting human school. She's not the girl who looked at me like I was a puzzle she couldn't name.
She's someone else now.
Someone who will tear through whatever stands between her and the truth.
Even me.
Even if I no longer want to be in her way.
The bond thrums low in my chest. Not calling.
Agreeing.
Waiting.
It knows the next move isn't mine.
But the consequences will be.
I step back into the shadows.
And I start counting down.