That night, Caruncle had a dream.

  Felicity, Evelyn, Zuriel, Percival—all those noobs—were there.

  The sky stretched wide and endless, a deep, dusky purple where gold hues clung to the fading horizon. The air was thick with tension. Somewhere in the distance, the twang of bowstrings cut through the quiet, boots scuffing against damp earth as archers lined a hilltop, arrows poised. Their eyes tracked something moving—something massive—a shadow slipping through the pins with a hunter’s grace.

  At the base of a pyramid, a griffin y curled, six times the size of any lion. Its golden feathers gleamed under the st light of day, wings tucked in close, the first primary feather stretching longest. The massive beak rested against its chest, talons digging into the earth. It was terrifying.

  I had read thousands of books in my lifetime, but I had never seen a griffin before. Sure, I’d come across drawings, but seeing one with my own eyes? Different.

  Where a falcon or eagle would have a tail of twelve feathers, this creature’s lower half was that of a lioness—raw muscle and power beneath golden fur.

  Valentin pushed through the ranks of archers, breathless. His gaze locked onto the creature, then froze. A scar, jagged and deep, cut across both of its eyes in a diagonal ssh. His pulse quickened.

  "Hold your fire!" he shouted. He stepped forward, his voice sharp with urgency. "Hold your fire! This isn’t a beast—this is Caruncle!"

  The griffin’s amber gaze flicked toward him. Feathers ruffled in the breeze. It didn’t speak. It didn’t move. But the weight of its stare sent a ripple through the gathered soldiers.

  Valentin took another step. His voice softened. "Caruncle, can you understand me?"

  The griffin tilted its head, watching him with something like amusement. Maybe even a smile.

  The archers hesitated. The bows lowered slightly.

  Valentin’s family said nothing.

  “How could you let them do this to you?” His voice cracked.

  The griffin blinked, unbothered, tilting its head further, as if it was the one trying to make sense of him.

  “Do you recognize me?”

  It didn’t answer.

  Valentin’s knees hit the ground. His hands curled into the dirt as his breath hitched. "If I had just listened to you sooner—"

  I gnced at the griffin. Its expression had changed—a flicker of pity. The creature slowly unfurled one great wing and pced it lightly against Valentin’s back.

  The gesture sent him ft onto the ground.

  The griffin hesitated, then adjusted, resting the wing more carefully over him, like a quiet apology.

  “Caruncle…” Valentin pressed his face into the soft, golden feathers, clutching at them like a drowning man. “Caruncle…”

  They stayed like that for a long time.

  Finally, Valentin wiped his eyes and reached into his crossbody bag, pulling out a dress.

  A silk dress—familiar, soft, flowing. Burgundy, just like the one the maids had forced Caruncle into.

  “Look,” Valentin murmured, forcing a smile even as tears streaked his face. “Caruncle… it’s your dress. The one you wanted.”

  The griffin exhaled softly, a deep, thrumming sound. It extended a wing, taking the dress carefully—gently, reverently. The fabric disappeared beneath golden feathers. Tucked away. Safe.

  Then, it moved as if to pat Valentin again. Paused. Thought better of it. Instead, it let him hold onto its wing, resting beside him.

  The griffin’s eyes were calm, but there was something else beneath them. Something sad.

  I could hear its thoughts.

  Caruncle was happy. Just happy to have his brother near.

  “Caruncle… thank you, Caruncle….”

  Somewhere beyond the dream, I started hearing crickets.

  The others stood frozen, silent, caught in some moment they weren’t sure how to leave.

  I, meanwhile, found a puddle of rainbow-colored water and kicked it with my boot.

  ***

  When I woke up, I felt like I’d lost something important.

  What was I even doing? This whole pn—**getting close to Caruncle’s family, trying to py this game—**what the hell was I thinking? Shame burned deep in my chest.

  I left the body.

  I was done.

  Caruncle was sitting in the parlor, listening to Sebastian chat with one of his maids when a letter arrived.

  “Did I ever tell you how I got into the Circle?” Sebastian handed Caruncle the envelope and leaned against the desk. “There was this girl. She was into dark magic and sorcery. I fell in love with her. Thought she was a demon sent to destroy me, so, naturally, I tried to exorcise her.” He chuckled to himself. “Anyway, hey—are you listening?”

  Caruncle had already turned away, slowly opening the letter.

  Valentin’s Letter:*"I know you believe deeply in the freedom of all men. This is something I have discussed often within my party, but understand: compensation must be made for the owners, not the former sves. These individuals have invested in their businesses, and therefore, we must reimburse them for their losses. The idea of persecuting former owners in what has long been an established system is simply unfeasible. Change must come at its own pace.

  If you are willing to support our party financially and work toward gradual reform, you are welcome to write me again."*

  It was bullshit.

  Caruncle sat frozen, gripping the letter. Fingers trembling. His chest ached in that raw, childish way it did when the world refused to bend to his will. He swallowed down the wave of frustration, forcing himself to sit there—just sit there—until the shaking passed.

  For an hour, maybe two, he stared out at the park, hollow and exhausted. Then, finally, he reached for fresh paper and began to write.

  Letter to Custodio:*"You said I could count on you as family. If that’s true, I will. But you must pass my test first.

  Bring Mr. Lopez to your home. Write to him—tell him he is in danger. Make sure his guard comes with him. I do not know if he keeps copies of his communications, but that is a risk you and I will both have to take.

  I also need an axe ready.

  I am done waiting. I want this solved now. If you can do this, I will know that I can trust you."*

  He rewrote the letter over and over, trying to keep his handwriting steady. Trying not to let the ink blur from the tears dripping onto the page.

  Later, Caruncle stepped out onto the balcony. Sebastian was still talking with the maid, the two of them caught in some winding conversation.

  “…And that’s when I realized,” Sebastian was saying, “that by falling in love with her, I hadn’t lost my soul. I hadn’t been ‘tainted’—I had been freed. I saw the cracks in everything. My faith. My world. That’s why I stayed with the Circle, even though they’re useless most of the time.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I know.”

  Caruncle tapped his shoulder. When Sebastian turned, he motioned for him to follow.

  Inside the study, Caruncle handed him a notebook.

  "It’s time."

  Sebastian stared at the words. Read them twice. Then looked up.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Caruncle nodded.

  Sebastian sighed. “I thought you were going to reconsider.”

  "I did."

  “And you’re still angry.”

  "I’m still angry."

  Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose. “This is fucking stupid. I hope you’re aware of that.”

  "I am."

  Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “Alright. I already sent someone to scout Lopez’s property. Contrary to what you told me, it’s not in the city. It’s in the countryside—a maze of a house hidden behind farmnd. I know you want to lure him to Custodio’s pce so no one sees us going in, but if Lopez leaves, the people inside will starve. What are you going to do about them?”

  Caruncle hesitated. Then, slowly, he wrote:

  "I don’t want to leave any witnesses."

  Sebastian’s head snapped toward him. “So what? You want to just—leave them to die?”

  Caruncle’s pen scratched against the paper again.

  "We could speed up that process."

  Sebastian let out a short, bitter ugh. “What?”

  "I’m serious."

  “You’re talking about sughtering them.”

  Caruncle shrugged.

  Sebastian scoffed, turning toward the window, rubbing his face like he was trying to wake himself up from this absolute madness.

  “Okay,” he muttered, “let me go, alone. I’ll free them after Lopez is dead. If I time it right, they won’t even know you were involved. I’ll say I came to buy someone and found the pce abandoned.”

  Caruncle frowned.

  “You have to let me do this.” Sebastian’s voice wavered. “Yes, it’s a risk, but a smaller one. And if you don’t, I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

  Caruncle exhaled slowly, staring down at Elena’s hands—his hands now.

  He flexed her fingers, watching how the light caught against the skin.

  Then, finally, he nodded.

  Sebastian sagged in relief. “Good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to Custodio about this?”

  Caruncle tapped the sealed letter on the desk.

  “…Do you trust him?”

  Caruncle hesitated. Then wrote:

  "If he does this for me, I can trust him."

  Sebastian’s expression twisted. “And the marriage thing? How do you feel about that?”

  "It doesn’t matter anymore."

  Sebastian sighed. “Alright. Suit yourself.”

  He turned toward the cabinet, pulled out a bottle, and poured himself a stiff drink.