Neancy.

  Of course. How could Burn have overlooked one of the demon lord's most infamous abilities? The stories from five turies ago should have been enough to warn him about the likelihood of this exaightmare.

  A, here he was—realizing just how personal this particur twist was. This wasn’t just neancy; it was tailored to crack his psyche wide open, t him down, step by step, into the predictable, tragic spiral of a textbook vilin.

  “It seems… fate has allowed us to meet yet once again, Burn.”

  It spoke.

  “It was scary, the darkness,” it said, its voice low and strained, as though dredged up from some pit of torment. “When my eyes opehis body—or whatever this is—brought me to your presence.”

  The thing standing before Burn wasirely him. A head stitched onto a patchwork body, bd unfamiliar, crafted from some grotesque substahat pulsed with life. hreaded with precision to mimic strength and skill, the very foundation of a warrior. It even came with a sword.

  This thing was made to fight. Designed specifically to fight Burn.

  How siderate.

  “Even now, even ih,” the man said, voice tight with bitterness, “I mao be nothing but a burden to you.” He raised his head slowly, log eyes with Burn.

  “I thought, just once, I could help you carry it—the weight of snty.”

  Through betrayal, with unshakable loyalty.

  “But instead, I am awakened in a body forced to betray you instead.” Bck liquid spilled from his eyes, slow and viscous, as though mog the cept of tears. “Brother—if it means anything now, five me.”

  CLASH!

  ***

  “What do you mean we ’t meet our children? We are their parents!” Bianca Lumine snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension choking the air.

  The headmaster of Saint Lucia Academy, who also happeo be the Princess of Luminus, was ner to and. She gred at the guards statio Wilderwood Mansion as though daring them to defy her further.

  “We came the moment we heard about the First Prind the Elven Princess being kidnapped. Now, you will let us see our children, or—”

  Her threats, ced with both royal authority and maternal fury, weren’t interrupted even by the arrival of anure.

  Duke Padparadscha, standing a few feet away, caught sight of Marquis Mossflower desding from his carriage. The man moved with purpose, though his usual poise was betrayed by the pallor of his face. Whether from fear or fury was anyone’s guess.

  “Marquis,” the Duke greeted with a brief nod.

  “Duke.” The Marquis returhe nod, his brow furrowed deeply. “Why are we here? Where are our sons?”

  “The Wilderwood and the Sator are keeping us in the dark. They’ve refused to let us see them. No expnations,” the Duke replied, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

  “And where is he?!” Bianca’s voice cut through again, sharper this time. “Where is Mante di Sator?! Where is Finneas Wilderwood?!” Her face, usually posed, was drawn tight with worry. She stepped forward, trembling with both urgend rage. “Let me see my son!”

  As if summoned by her anger, a figure emerged from the t mansion.

  At first ghe person approag them seemed almost unreal.

  A womaatingly beautiful, with long bck hair casg down her back, her face carved with the kind of symmetry that could make angels weep—or devils take notes, except one singur mole under her right eye, like a sinful, sacious imperfe.

  Yet the parents who had gathered to demand answers froze the moment they noticed her dition.

  It was the hole in her chest that did it. A bloodied, gaping wound that turhe air colder than it already was.

  “Greetings, Princess. Duke. Marquis.” Bunny Fay di Sator ined her head slightly, her movements deliberate, as if her entire body were holding itself together through sheer willpower. Her pale skin was drenched in blood—her own—arembling limbs were slick with cold sweat.

  “Madame!” Bianca gasped, rushing forward instinctively, her hands outstretched to catch her.

  Bunny raised orembling hand to halt her approach, the gesture somehow andie her state.

  “Stop,” she said, her voice calm, measured, and just shy of icy. “Please, listen to me.” She drew in a shaky breath, wing ever so slightly, though she showed no iion of colpsing.

  “The kidnapping of the Prind Princess, followed by an attack from an unknowy, has forced me to decre a lockdown of this mansion. Your children are ihey are safe. But I ot—and will not—let you in.”

  Her words carried the weight of unyielding authority, though it was impossible to miss the exhaustion ione.

  “The Princess, Bir Inkor, was targeted and gravely injured during the attack. She is alive, but only barely. The situation is far more precarious than any of you realize. Letting ao this sanctuary—even you—poses an uable risk. I am not in the habit of gambling with lives, especially not wheakes involve childrerusted to my care.”

  The parents stared at her in stunned sileheir protests momentarily stolen by her dor.

  “And before you ask—no, I ot provide further information. My husband, Mante di Sator, and Lord Finneas Wilderwood have left to join the search for the Prind Princess. They are not here to expin this to you, which leaves me to mahis crisis.” She gestured faintly toward her blood-soaked chest. “I believe my current state speaks volumes about the seriousness of the situation.”

  Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it was as bitter as it was fleeting. “You may be royalty, esteemed nobles, and, yes, ed parents, but right now, none of those titles outweigh the o ehe safety of this mansion and everyone in it. If that means refusing you entry, so be it.”

  Bunny Fay di Sator straightened, ign the trembling in her legs. “I would say I appreciate your patience, but given the circumstances, I’ll settle for your pliance. You will remain outside until further notice. This versation is over.”

  With that, she turned and began walking back toward the mansion, each step leaving faint traces of blood on the cold stoh—

  “Wait!”

  The voice, frantid raw, cut through the tense air. Bunny stopped mid-stride. Slowly, she turned back, her pale face impassive, though her sharp eyes locked onto the source of the plea.

  Bianca Lumiood there, desperatioched into every feature. The anding presence she wielded so effortlessly moments before was now overshadowed by something painfully human: worry.

  “We uand,” Bianca said, her voice trembling but resolute. “Tell us how to help. Tell us how to make this situatioer, so we meet our children faster. Or tell us how you let us in—anything. Just tell us what to do.”

  Her words poured out, stripped of the fire she’d hurled at the guards earlier. Now, she was nothing more than a mother pleading for her child. Genuine, raw emotion swirled in her wide eyes.

  Bunny—Man watched her in silence. For a moment, her expression didn’t shift, her striking azure gaze sing not just Bianca but also the Duke and the Marquis standing behind her.

  Man’s mind raced, but her face betrayed nothing. This woman, Bianca Lumine, came from Luminus—a kingdom that prided itself on its holy lis e to Romeuf the Apostle.

  And after the Pope’s death, the Lumine family had only grown more iial.

  Was it possible this woman had ties to the demon lord? Man’s instincts whispered no, but instincts alone weren’t enough. She decided to test the waters.

  “Lankor,” she said abruptly, her tone sharp and calcuted.

  The parents froze, their expressions snapping from worry to fusion. Bianca bli her, frowning deeply. “What? Why…”

  Man studied them closely, searg for the ti flicker nition, the barest hint of guilt. There was none. Only fusion.

  “Corrupted mana,” Man added, her voice dropping slightly, like a bde being drawn.

  Again, no response beyond furrowed brows and faint unease. Whatever suspis had wormed their way into her mind began to dissipate. If these people had secrets, they weren’t ones she could uh now.

  Satisfied—or at least willing to set the matter aside—Man nodded. “Ohing to sider,” she said, her voice steady and cool as ever. “If I let you in, uand this: you won’t be able to leave until I decide it’s safe. Once you’re inside, you are under my protey rules. No exceptions.”

  The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, pressing down orio like an invisible force.

  Bianca opened her mouth to reply but hesitated, gng back at the Duke and the Marquis. Both men exged uneasy gheir expressions a mirror of their shared hesitation.

  None of them liked the sound of what they were hearing, but they were also painfully aware of the alternative—staying out here, powerless, while their children remained beyond their reach.

  Bianca squared her shoulders, turning baan with the same desperate resolve she had shown before. “If that’s what it takes to see our children ahem safe,” she said firmly, “then so be it. Just let us help.”

  Man’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before shifting to the men fnkiheir faces were grim but equally determined. For all their bluster and privilege, it seemed these three still knew how to prioritize what mattered most.

  Finally, Ma out a slow, deliberate breath. “Very well,” she said, gesturing faintly toward the mansion. “Follow me.”