The marble arteries of the Hallows carried the sounds of Selene's boots as she stomped through the streets, the Lycan Guard padding silently beside her, and Lucen jogging slightly to keep pace. The casual grace she usually possessed was replaced by a rigid, focused intensity.

  They had barely stepped into the shadow of the Clock Hand Tower when Selene heard it. Raised voices. Irritation—Cassian's, unmistakable, sharp as cracked glass—and beneath it the cold, level timbre of Darius trying, unsuccessfully, to remain patient.

  Lucen exhaled a strained breath, stopping short of the plaza entrance.

  "Well, that was faster than I expected. He's fighting with Darius. Maybe we should find ourselves a good seat for the main event."

  "Now is not the time for games, Lucy," Selene responded, her voice a low, dangerous rumble.

  "Really? Or is it that you can't stand anyone else raising their voice at him?" Lucen shot back, eyes narrowing with that too-sharp amusement Selene despised. His own frustrations with Darius were boiling over, manifesting as an unnecessary jab at Selene's protective instinct.

  "Not. Now. Lucen!" Selene coldly bit back, turning just enough to let him see the sheer focus in her eyes.

  Lucen's jaw flexed, the effort of controlling his temper visible on his face, and he stepped back, falling in line with the Lycan Guard.

  The Clock Hand Tower's entrance plaza—normally a place of structured, serene movement—had become a battlefield of clashing temperaments. Selene saw the cluster before she reached it: Darius standing rigid with his arms folded, his black armor absorbing the light; Cassian pacing like a caged hawk, throwing his hands up in grand, frustrated gestures; the Grand Master Inquisitor, Varin, silently weighing both men with a profound fatigue plain on his face.

  Surrounding them was Darius's company. Their attention broke the moment Selene stepped into view. Conversations faltered. Boots shifted. Spines straightened.

  Cassian was the first to move. He strode toward her, moments away from exploding into a rage.

  "Oh, wonderful," he barked. "You're here. Please tell me you intend to give him an earful. The fool—" he gestured sharply at Darius, "—released the Archbishops! All four of them! Do you realize the political fallout of this unilateral decision?"

  Selene's eyes narrowed, her expression cool as smoothed obsidian. The temperature of the conversation immediately dropped.

  "I'm aware," she said, her voice cutting through Cassian's anger. "And before I berate him, I intend to hear his reasoning. Especially since, for the record, the Archbishops are considered prisoners of the Hallows."

  Darius rolled his eyes, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his features.

  "They are Sanctum clergy. They were here as part of a diplomatic mission. The Sanctum determines how the Sanctum clergy are handled. I simply expedited the paperwork."

  Selene folded her arms across her chest, mimicking his posture.

  "Releasing the only four suspects of espionage, allowing them to return to the very government they're suspected of betraying, is your interpretation of 'expediting' how they are 'dealt with'?"

  Cassian threw his hands upward, triumphant in his indignation.

  "Exactly what I've been saying!"

  "I was attempting to explain the situation to the Crown Prince here, but he refuses to let me—" Darius began, his voice strained.

  "Because there is nothing you could possibly say—" Cassian countered immediately, stepping in front of Selene.

  But Darius wasn't speaking to him anymore. He stared over Cassian's shoulder, his gaze locking on Selene. His pretense of military discipline and weary patience dropped away, replaced by an urgent gravity.

  "Pale Seer."

  Selene's posture shifted—subtle, but unmistakable, as if she had just taken a punch to the diaphragm. Lucen drew a sharp, audible breath. Cassian's mouth snapped shut mid-complaint, the sudden quiet terrifying in its intensity.

  Cassian, utterly bewildered, tried to resume speaking. "Pale Seer... Darius, what does she have to do with anything?"

  Selene cut him off without looking at him. "Cass, darling. Shut up for a moment. I want to hear this."

  Cassian forced a smile and threw his hands up in a gesture of exaggerated surrender, backing away. "As the lady wishes. I shall retire to leave everything in your delicate, capable hands."

  But the humor died before it reached his eyes. The sting of it—being dismissed like an unruly child in front of the entire Thorned Path—hit harder than he cared to admit. His jaw flexed once as Selene brushed past him.

  "Maybe I should've stayed with the others," he muttered, just loud enough for Lucen to hear. "Watched the arena fights. Got a few more pointers from Rhydan. They probably would come in handy right now." Lucen shot him a sympathetic glance but remained silent, his own attention locked on Selene.

  Selene pulled closer until she stood only a few paces from Darius, the air between them charged with a thick, unspoken history that Cassian could not penetrate.

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  "What does any of this have to do with Pale Seer?" she demanded, her voice kept deliberately low so only those immediately surrounding them could hear.

  Darius drew in a contemplative breath, as though gauging the weight of her readiness for what came next. "Before I answer that, tell me—how much do you know about her?"

  Selene's lips lifted, but the expression held no humor. Only remorse, irritation, and something like old shame.

  "A great deal," Selene said quietly. "She is the Hallows' greatest failure—and our deepest shame."

  Cassian's dejection evaporated in an instant. "What? She's from the Hallows? I half thought the Pale Seer to be a myth! A convenient excuse."

  Selene kept her gaze on Darius. "She was once one of our finest scholars. A brilliant prodigy in theoretical Vaylora. Our finest teacher, even, before she became a Sorceress." Her voice hardened, becoming cold and brittle. "I never learned the full cause. Only that her betrayal involved my father."

  Only hours ago, Lucen had watched the children of the Hallows bend light, space, and elements with terrifying ease. If they possessed such raw power, then a woman who had once taught their predecessors—before becoming a Sorceress—was beyond imagining. The thought sent primal dread down his spine. His eyes widened in horror.

  Aelun ran a hand back through his hair, exhaling heavily. "Then only one person would know the full truth of her past, the why of her betrayal."

  Lucen closed his eyes, dread slipping into every line of his face. "Morgan…"

  Selene nodded, her face grim.

  The Grand Master Inquisitor Varin muttered a quiet oath. "If she escaped the scrutiny of Morgan LeFaye and then vanished, then this is far more serious than we thought. Seraphyne Vaelith is likely far more dangerous than Cursed Bounty."

  Selene crossed her arms, jaw tight. "Tell me what Pale Seer has to do with this."

  Darius didn't answer her question directly. Instead, he posed his own, forcing her to confront the logic herself.

  "Do you believe Seraphyne Vaelith would ever join a circle with Cursed Bounty?"

  Selene felt the pieces click into place. Her eyes darkened with dawning comprehension. "…I see. If she's joined Cursed Bounty then... dammit. Searching for corruption won't be enough. That also means Archbishop Venn is still a suspect."

  Darius inclined his head, confirming the horrifying realization.

  Selene rubbed her brow. "If that's true, binding the Archbishops would've done nothing. Not even the demon's senses would find a trace of Seraphyne's influence if she truly is involved."

  "Precisely," Darius agreed.

  Cassian dragged both hands down his face, his fury now giving way to stunned disbelief. "You let the Archbishops go free on a theory? You risked the political integrity of the Accords on a guess?"

  "An educated hunch," Darius corrected lightly. "We act with the information we have, Prince. And right now, that hunch, played correctly, could save the Accords by turning the Apostate's own strategy against them."

  "A hunch?!" Cassian sputtered, frustrated that his logical complaints were being overridden by Darius's brutal pragmatism.

  "Yes, a hunch. Even if I'm wrong, letting the Archbishops go is the right play." Darius explained, ignoring Cassian and speaking only to Selene. "The spy can feel the noose tightening. The others, after being accused, will do all in their power to clear their names. Despite everything, the Accords are still proceeding smoothly, adding more pressure to the potential spies. Something will eventually give."

  Cassian let out a tortured groan, rubbing his temples furiously. "…I hate that I agree with you on this point."

  Selene's lips curved into a cold, appreciative smile. "Very well. We'll see your plan through. But if it fails, Commander, I'll intervene—and handle things my way."

  Darius arched an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Your way?"

  Selene's smile widened, giving him all the promise of catastrophe. "Yes. My way is guaranteed to be far more unpleasant for all involved. But it will be effective."

  Darius exhaled, frustrated that she had been holding back this information. "If you already had a solution, why didn't you bring it up earlier?"

  Selene shrugged, her posture instantly regaining its political cool. "Because I didn't care. The Circle of Sorcerers is dangerous, yes, but the kingdoms and the Sanctum would eventually crush them. The problem would solve itself with minimum effort from me. I am not a mercenary, Darius. I am a Princess."

  "What changed?"

  At that, Selene's expression went cold—clean and surgical. "If Pale Seer—Seraphyne Vaelith—is involved, then the Hallows is partially at fault. Her betrayal is our internal weakness made external. That could destabilize the Accords by shattering the trust the Emperors are placing in our leadership. I will not allow our own past shame to ruin the future."

  Darius studied her for a long moment before smirking. "Good. Then the first thing we need to do is visit the Demon District."

  He faced her again. "Take me there, Princess. There are things I need to know, and only demons have the answers."

  Selene paused. The Demon District, officially District Ten-Eleven, wasn't a place one entered lightly.

  "You understand what you're asking? The Sanctum has made it clear they have no intention of working with the demons in any form."

  "I do, and I'm aware," Darius confirmed, his gaze unwavering. "But the situation requires us to be more flexible."

  Selene held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded once, accepting the challenge.

  Selene moved first, her cloak sweeping behind her like a living shadow. "Follow closely. We'll move quickly."

  Darius fell in line behind her, and before they left, he spoke to his company.

  "I will not force any of you to follow me. If you do not wish to involve yourself with the Demons, you can be dismissed for the day." Most of the Inquisitors chose to stay. The rest, including the Inquisitor Grand Master, followed behind them.

  They crossed the plaza, leaving behind the crystalline calm of the Clock Hand Tower, and descended into streets where the sunlight dimmed, and the architecture grew denser. The pure white and silver of the central Hallows gave way to crimson-tinged granite and cold iron. This was District Eleven—the Demon District—where banners woven from impossible, dark silk hung like warnings and carved stone faces watched from the walls with hollow, luminous eyes. The streetlamps were caged flames burning in various hues of red and purple, casting long, distorted shadows.

  Cassian gripped the hilt of Serenity, his usual arrogance replaced by tense, focused alertness. He had wanted to visit the district, but now regretted his curiosity.

  Isolde smirked as she glanced at everyone who seemed to be on edge.

  "You all need to relax. This place looks rough, sure. But it's more fun than you think."

  "That's not what one expects to hear from a Saintess," Lucen frowned.

  "And that is not something I want to hear coming from you, of all people." Lucen chuckled and turned away to avoid Isolde's glare.

  "Seraphyne Vaelith," Selene murmured as they walked deeper into the District.

  Darius's jaw flexed, a shadow passing over his expression. "Don't look so stressed. We'll get her."

  Selene's lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll have to find her first."

  Ahead, the Demon District opened like a freshly opened wound across the pale stone of the Hallows, its alleys twisting and descending into true, oppressive darkness.