For several heartbeats, no one spoke.

The inscription burned beneath Lyra's name and Kael's, silver letters reflected in the black stone.

THE SEVERED HEART HAS FOUND ITS OTHER HALF.

Then the date beneath Lyra's name pulsed once.

Thirty days.

She hated that her first thought was not of prophecy or ancient magic.

It was of breakfast.

Thirty mornings.

Thirty evenings.

Thirty chances to wake beneath the Temple bells and wonder whether the number had become twenty-nine.

Her fingers tightened around Kael's.

He felt it through the bond before he looked at her.

"Don't," she said quietly.

His brows drew together. "Don't what?"

"Feel sorry for me so loudly."

Adrian made a strangled sound behind them that might have been a laugh under less terrible circumstances.

Kael's mouth almost curved.

"I was not feeling sorry for you."

The bond carried grief, fury, fear, and something fiercely protective.

Lyra raised an eyebrow.

"You are a terrible liar for someone who has survived three centuries of politics."

"I survived because most politicians are worse."

Cassian descended another step.

"Move away from the wall."

Lyra looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because we do not know what marked you."

Kael's gaze remained fixed on the inscription.

"The vault did."

"You cannot be certain."

"I can read the construction glyphs. That stone is part of the original heart-vault. The palace did not carve this. Your Temple did not carve this."

Darius ran a gloved hand over the wall several feet from Lyra's name.

"Could someone have altered it later?"

Kael shook his head. "Not without waking the vault."

The low breathing continued beneath them.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The woman's distant song threaded through it.

Adrian stared at the date.

"What happens in thirty days?"

Cassian answered too quickly.

"We return to the Temple archives and find out."

Lyra turned on him.

"No."

He stopped.

"Lyra—"

"Every answer you have given me tonight arrived after I already discovered enough truth to force it out of you." She pointed down the staircase. "The answer is below us."

Cassian's face tightened. "Or death is below us."

"Apparently I already have an appointment with that."

Pain flashed across his face.

She regretted the cruelty immediately.

Not enough to take the words back.

Kael glanced down the staircase.

The illumination continued farther than Lyra could see, each step lined with alternating threads of gold and silver.

The vial of black conduit substance still glowed faintly in his free hand. After one wary glance at it, Kael slipped it carefully into the inner pocket of his torn coat and fastened the clasp over it.

"The song is stronger," he said.

It was.

And beneath the melody, Lyra felt something else.

Not words.

Recognition.

As though the place knew she was listening.

She descended.

Kael went with her.

Adrian swore under his breath and followed.

Darius motioned two guards forward, but the instant the first soldier stepped onto the glowing stair, the light beneath his boot went dark.

He recoiled.

Darius tried.

The same thing happened.

Cassian's expression changed.

"Only the converged pair."

Adrian tested the next step.

Darkness.

"Apparently royal blood has finally found a door it cannot open."

Kael glanced back. "Enjoy the novelty."

Lyra descended three more steps.

The others remained above, unable to activate the path, but nothing changed in her body. Kael was still beside her, close enough that the bond remained quiet.

That fact made something cold move through her.

The staircase was not simply reacting to them individually.

It recognized them together.

"Wait," Cassian called.

Lyra paused.

He looked older standing above them.

Not the High Priest carved into public statues and painted on Temple murals.

Just Cassian.

"If the inscription changes," he said, "if you experience pain, visions, anything—come back immediately."

Kael's expression hardened.

Lyra answered before he could.

"I will decide when to come back."

Cassian lowered his eyes.

"Yes."

That single word unsettled her more than an argument would have.

She and Kael continued downward.

The staircase curved tightly through black stone.

Names covered the walls.

Some Lyra knew.

Most she did not.

There were hundreds.

Then thousands.

Not all bore the title Saintess.

Some simply had names.

EIRA VALE.

MELIAN ARDEN.

SERA THORNE.

Lyra stopped.

"Arden."

Kael followed her gaze.

The name was old, the letters worn smooth.

MELIAN ARDEN — 24 YEARS.

Lyra touched the stone.

The moment her fingertips met it, golden light erupted beneath her skin.

The bond slammed open.

Not thoughts.

Memory.

A woman stood beneath a red sky.

She had Lyra's eyes.

Not exactly.

But enough.

A dragon crouched before her in human form, blood covering one side of his face.

Behind them, soldiers carried banners bearing an emblem Lyra did not recognize: seven stars around an unbroken flame.

The woman shouted over distant screaming.

"If they divide it, both sides will starve!"

The dragon seized her shoulders.

"Then we don't let them."

The vision snapped.

Lyra stumbled.

Kael caught her.

His arm went around her waist, and for one brief second she was aware of nothing ancient or prophetic.

Only the solid warmth of him.

Then she felt his shock.

"You saw her too," Lyra whispered.

"Yes."

"Melian Arden."

Kael stared at the carved surname.

"Your name was not given to you by the Temple?"

"Arden was on the blanket they found me in. Cassian said it was likely my mother's family name."

Kael's gaze sharpened.

"Convenient."

She stiffened. "You think Cassian lied about that too?"

"I think we have reached the point where convenience deserves suspicion."

Annoyance flared through her.

His answered it instantly.

"I am not accusing you."

"I know."

"Your face suggests otherwise."

"My face is tired of discovering that my childhood may have been curated."

His annoyance disappeared.

Guilt replaced it.

Lyra sighed.

"And stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Feeling guilty every time you say something unpleasant but possibly true. It is exhausting."

"You complain about my arrogance and then object when I develop self-awareness."

"Develop it more quietly."

He laughed.

A real laugh.

It echoed strangely through the ancient staircase.

The song stopped.

Both of them froze.

Silence pressed inward.

Then a child's voice spoke from below.

"You finally came."

Lyra's blood turned cold.

Silver eyes.

The child from the visions.

Kael moved in front of her.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

Lyra pushed past his shoulder.

"You told me I was late."

The voice returned.

Closer now.

"You were."

A faint silver glow appeared beyond the final turn.

Kael's hand shifted, claws extending from his fingertips.

Lyra felt the pain that transformation caused him now—the deep ache in his bones, the weakness left by centuries of draining.

She caught his wrist.

"Don't waste strength before we know there is something to fight."

"That is remarkably sensible for someone following a dead child's voice underground."

"We don't know that the child is dead."

"Comforting."

They rounded the bend.

The staircase opened into a vast circular chamber.

Lyra stopped breathing.

At its center floated a sphere of light suspended over a black basin.

Half gold.

Half silver.

Not divided cleanly.

The colors moved through each other like currents in water.

Around it stood seven empty stone seats.

Behind the basin rose a mural taller than the palace chapel.

A dragon curled around a woman.

Not attacking her.

Protecting her.

Between their joined hands burned the same divided flame.

Except here it was not divided.

Gold and silver formed a single white center.

Kael whispered something in the old dragon tongue.

Lyra looked at him.

"What?"

His face had gone pale.

"This chamber should not exist."

"You are saying that often tonight."

"Because your kingdom has apparently built its capital on top of every forbidden thing my people ever buried."

The light over the basin pulsed.

Pain pierced Lyra's chest.

Kael gasped at the same instant.

They both dropped to one knee.

Lyra caught herself against the black floor.

Cold brightness traced itself beneath the skin of her wrist.

She jerked her hand upward.

A silver line was appearing there for the first time, circling her wrist slowly until it formed a perfect ring bright as moonlight.

Across from her, Kael stared at his own arm.

A matching ring of gold was forming around his wrist.

The colors were reversed again.

"Kael."

"I see it."

The basin filled with images.

A woman lying on stone.

A dragon chained beside her.

Priests separating their joined hands.

A burst of light.

The same ruined tower from their visions.

Then words appeared above the basin.

Kael read silently.

His fear surged through the bond.

Lyra grabbed his arm.

"Tell me."

He did not answer.

"Kael."

"It is not a death date."

Relief hit her so hard she nearly laughed.

Then she felt his fear deepen.

"What is it?"

His eyes met hers.

"A limit."

The inscription shifted into modern Aurellian as if responding to her confusion.

WHEN THE HEART RECOGNIZES ITS MISSING CURRENT, SEPARATION BECOMES DECAY.

THIRTY DAYS UNTIL THE CIRCLE MUST BE CLOSED.

Lyra read it twice.

"Closed how?"

The answer appeared beneath it.

VOLUNTARY UNION.

OR MUTUAL DEATH.

Neither spoke.

Lyra heard Cassian's warning from the chapel.

The second stage.

Circulation.

Exchange.

She stared at Kael.

"I preferred it when our greatest problem was being unable to cross a room without collapsing."

His head turned toward her.

For a moment, the fear in the bond loosened.

"You have astonishing standards for preferable disasters."

"They have deteriorated rapidly since meeting you."

"Naturally. I inspire growth."

Despite herself, Lyra almost smiled.

Then the chamber shook.

The floating sphere erupted with light.

The silver-eyed child appeared on the other side of the basin.

Not merely a fragment in a shared memory this time.

A translucent figure, perhaps eight years old, with dark hair drifting as though underwater.

Lyra could see the mural through the child's body.

Kael rose slowly.

"Who are you?"

The child studied him with unbearable sadness.

"You forgot me."

Kael went completely still.

The child's gaze shifted to Lyra.

"And you haven't remembered yet."

Lyra's mouth went dry.

"Remembered what?"

The child lifted one hand.

The basin filled again—not with an ancient memory this time, but an image of the royal palace above them.

Soldiers filled the corridors.

Temple knights surrounded the chapel.

At their center stood a man in royal crimson.

Adrian's father.

King Edric.

Beside him, attendants carried a sealed iron device covered in convergence glyphs.

Cassian stood between the king and the staircase.

Arguing.

Darius had drawn his sword.

Lyra leaned closer to the basin.

She could not hear the words being exchanged above, but Cassian's posture was unmistakable. He was refusing something.

The child whispered, "They've come to separate you."

Kael's golden wrist-mark flared.

Lyra's new silver ring answered with a pulse of cold fire.

"What is that device?" she asked.

Kael's expression had gone murderous.

"Something made for convergence. I do not know more than that."

For once, Cassian's earlier warnings sounded less like obstruction and more like fear.

Above them in the basin, King Edric gestured sharply toward the staircase.

Temple knights advanced.

Darius stepped into their path.

Adrian appeared beside him.

The child lowered its hand.

The image vanished.

"Can they reach this chamber?" Lyra asked.

The child's silver eyes settled on the marks around their wrists.

"They don't need to."

The floor trembled.

Somewhere far above, metal struck stone.

Kael seized Lyra's hand.

The bond flooded with his alarm.

The child spoke again.

"If they use it now, you will not have thirty days."

A second blow echoed through the vault.

This time, the new silver ring around Lyra's wrist tightened like a burning chain.