The tear ran down Skye’s back like a blade.
Her white dress split along the seam, opening from shoulder to waist in a single cruel line. A cold draft hit her skin—and then the heat of a hundred staring eyes.
For a heartbeat, Skye froze.
Sherry moved first, throwing herself behind Skye to cover the rip with her own body and shawl. But it was too late.
People had seen.
Eira’s laugh—bright, delighted—cut through the dome like broken glass.
Rhine didn’t remember moving.
One moment he was standing. The next, his coat was off and wrapped around Skye’s shoulders, his body angled to block her from the room.
“Sit,” he said under his breath.
Skye’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She sank back into her chair, face burning, hands shaking under the coat.
Rhine looked up.
Eira met his stare with a sweet, innocent smile.
Rhine could have smiled back.
Instead, he turned to Governor Fell, bowed once, and said, “My apologies. I need to escort Lady Skye out.”
The governor’s expression didn’t change. He simply nodded, as if this were another minor annoyance in a night full of them.
Rhine didn’t wait for permission after that.
He guided Skye out of the Sky Restaurant, Sherry glued to their heels.
Behind them, the whispers started immediately—soft, hungry, excited.
*
Skye’s room was quiet except for Sherry’s furious breathing.
The moment the door shut, Sherry spun. “It was her. It was Lady Eira. I saw it—she brushed past, and she had something in her hand. A little blade.”
Skye closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, her voice was steady. Too steady. “I know.”
Rhine’s fingers tightened around his cane until the wood creaked. “We can report it. I can confront her in front of everyone.”
“And then what?” Skye asked.
Her gaze slid past Rhine, toward the window, toward the dark mass of Windrest Keep beyond. “My father will scold her. Maybe. Her maternal family will complain. Everyone will pretend it’s a misunderstanding.”
Skye’s mouth curved, bitter. “And tomorrow, she’ll find a different way.”
Rhine had no answer.
Skye turned to Sherry. “Needle. Thread. And a new dress.”
Sherry’s eyes shone with tears of anger, but she nodded and hurried out.
Rhine took one last look at Skye—the way her hands still trembled beneath the coat—and forced himself to step back.
“I’ll leave you space,” he said.
Skye didn’t look at him. “Thank you.”
Rhine left, anger coiling tighter with every step.
*
Near midnight, Skye found him.
“Come to the garden,” she said quietly. “I want you to see something.”
Rhine followed.
The keep’s inner garden was a pocket of shadow and moonlight—trimmed hedges, stone paths, a few lanterns hung low to keep the dark from swallowing everything.
Skye stopped at the center path and lifted a hand.
Cold spread outward.
Frost climbed the stone like veins. The air itself sharpened until Rhine’s breath came out pale.
A ward settled over the garden—subtle, invisible, but heavy in the bones.
“You sealed it,” Rhine said.
Skye nodded. “If she tries to run, she won’t be able to. No one outside will hear her, either.”
Rhine’s eyes narrowed. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve been serious my whole life.” Skye’s voice was flat. “Tonight, I’m just done being quiet.”
She turned to Rhine. “Stay back. If anything goes wrong, shoot.”
Rhine’s hand rested on Flint. “Understood.”
Skye sent Sherry away, then waited.
Minutes later, footsteps approached.
Eira entered the garden with a lantern in hand, face smug as if she’d come to watch Skye beg.
She stepped into the ward.
Her smile faltered for half a second.
Skye didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“You cut my dress.”
Eira’s eyes widened theatrically. “Me? Lady Skye, how could you accuse your sister of something so vile?”
Skye tilted her head. “Don’t play innocent. Not with me.”
Eira’s expression hardened. The syrup drained, leaving only sharpness.
“You really think you matter,” Eira said. “You’re a mistake Father keeps around because it’s convenient. A little ornament he can wave at court and call ‘family.’”
Skye didn’t blink.
Eira took a step closer, voice dropping. “And you’ve been hiding behind Rhine like he’s your shield. As if a common-born fisherman with a borrowed title can protect you.”
Rhine’s jaw tightened.
Eira’s gaze slid to him. “Tell me, Sir Rhine—do you really plan to waste your future on her?”
Skye’s hand lifted, slow and calm.
She slapped Eira.
The sound cracked through the garden.
Eira stumbled, stunned. Her lantern swung wildly, painting the hedges with trembling light.
Eira’s face twisted. “You—!”
She lunged.
Skye stepped aside and hooked Eira’s ankle with her foot.
Eira went down hard on the frost-slick stone.
Skye pressed a heel onto Eira’s wrist, pinning her. Then she leaned down, plucked the lantern from Eira’s grip, and blew it out.
Darkness swallowed Eira’s scream.
Skye flexed her fingers once. “Haven’t done that in a while. My hand’s a little numb.”
“You…” Eira panted, voice shaking. “You’ll pay for this. I’ll tell Father. I’ll—”
“Go ahead,” Skye said, amused.
A wall of ice rose behind Eira, sealing her in.
“In your father’s eyes,” Skye murmured, “who’s more useful—an empty-headed daughter who can’t do anything, or the Great Diviner?”
Eira’s breath caught.
Skye smiled. “That’s what I thought.”
She leaned down, voice turning low, almost gentle. “You still don’t understand. I didn’t come here to win his love.”
Eira swallowed. “Then why—”
Skye’s smile was cold.
“I came here for revenge.”
The words hit Eira like a wave.
Skye lifted her chin toward the towering spire of Coral Tower. Even at night, the silhouette of a carved black dragon head was visible at the peak—an ugly trophy, set above the city like a warning.
“Do you know what that is?” Skye asked.
Eira didn’t answer.
“That’s not decoration,” Skye said. “That’s history. That’s what your family did to mine.”
Eira’s voice cracked. “What are you…?”
Skye’s eyes gleamed. “Stay away from me. If you make me angry again, I’ll kill you. Cleanly. Quietly.”
Eira went still.
Skye finally stepped off her wrist. The ice wall dissolved, and Eira collapsed onto the stones, sobbing in humiliation and fear.
Skye turned and walked away as if she’d never looked back at her.
The garden warmed. The ward lifted.
And everything went silent again—like it had never happened.
*
Later, under the roses, Skye returned Rhine’s coat.
“Not worried?” Rhine asked. “Eira’s maternal family has plenty of Transcendents.”
Skye paused, startled. “How do you know that?”
Rhine didn’t hide it. “Our contract. I could feel your mood shift the moment you decided to move. I could feel you using power.”
Skye stared at him for a beat, then let out a dry laugh. “Right. I forgot about that.”
She handed him the coat. “And no, I’m not worried.”
Rhine waited.
Skye’s gaze drifted up to the moon. “I’m not the real Skye.”
Rhine’s spine stiffened.
Skye didn’t flinch from the confession. “I came here because of Fell. I infiltrated Windrest Keep by pretending to be his daughter. Step by step, I climbed into his circle.”
Rhine’s throat tightened. “The Great Diviner…”
Skye’s smile was crooked. “A title built on lies. I can’t divine anything. But I know how to make people believe I can.”
She looked back at him. “I wanted access. Influence. Leverage. I wanted to sit close enough to his decisions to twist them.”
Rhine felt something cold settle behind his ribs. “And revenge.”
“Yes.” Skye’s voice went quiet. “I could just… wait him out. Dragons live long. He’d die eventually.”
Her hands clenched at her sides. “But I can’t accept that. Not after what he did. Not after what he took.”
Skye exhaled, slow and controlled. “Sometimes I look at what I’ve done—impersonation, lies, stealing my way into his decision-making circle—and I tell myself it’s impressive.”
She glanced toward the black dragon head on the spire, lit by distant torchlight. “But the truth is… I’m still far from the end.”
Skye’s voice dipped. “Sometimes I think: forget it. The age of dragons is over. I’m alone. What can I even change?”
Her eyes sharpened again. “But can I really accept that?”
Rhine listened—and felt like she’d set a mirror between them.
Once upon a time, he’d lived a calm, ordinary life, until the dead rose and tore it apart. He’d lost the people he loved, one by one, and learned what it meant to compromise just to keep breathing.
He’d been dragged into this world and discovered something even uglier:
His tragedy was entertainment. A pastime for people in another world.
He’d been furious. He’d refused to accept it.
And in the end, he’d still had to swallow it—because what else could he do?
After more than twenty years of compromise, he’d been branded a Player and thrown into another “game,” forced to fight and die all over again.
So what was the truth of this world?
Who was moving the pieces?
Why?
And when would it end?
Rhine’s thoughts snapped to the System’s fishing quest—the one that promised him “a piece of the truth.”
His chest tightened with emotions he didn’t have time to name.
He looked at Skye and asked quietly, “What are you planning to do next?”