Dawn came too fast.
Rhine had spent most of the night in the Red Tower, letting Skye dump a century’s worth of ugly politics onto his lap. By the time he got back to his room, the sky was already turning pale.
Delanna was awake.
She sat by the window like a statue someone forgot to pray to, the coral map laid out beside her. Haizan’s spirit hovered near the corner, half-sunk into the floorboards.
Rhine set his hat on the chair and rubbed his eyes. “Skye agreed.”
Delanna looked up. “She will help?”
“She’ll get the ingredients,” Rhine said. “Anything the Black-and-White Institute controls, she can… borrow.”
Haizan made a low grunt. “Borrow. Right.”
Delanna didn’t smile, but the tension in her shoulders eased. “Then I can start brewing today.”
“Good,” Rhine said. “Because we’re out of time.”
Delanna studied him for a beat. “You’re planning something.”
Rhine poured himself cold tea and swallowed like it was medicine. “Tonight, Jory’s curse reaches the end.”
Haizan’s eyes burned faintly. “The head on the gate.”
Rhine nodded. “Tonight.”
Delanna’s fingers tightened on the coral. “And after that?”
Rhine’s gaze went distant, like he was already aiming down a sightline. “After that, we point everyone’s eyes at the real monster.”
*
Later that morning, Windrest City felt… loud.
Not the loud of panic, not the loud of screaming. The loud of people trying to pretend they hadn’t watched their neighbors rise as corpse-things.
The inner district’s main square had been scrubbed, swept, rebuilt—fast enough to feel unnatural. Workers were still hammering on scaffolds when Rhine arrived.
And at the center of it all stood the new spectacle: a towering statue of the Seven Gods carved from sea-crystal.
Even unfinished, it was breathtaking. The translucent mineral caught sunlight and scattered it into a faint rainbow, like the air itself was blessed.
Or baited.
“Jory Fell found it,” a woman near Rhine said, almost reverent. “In the ruins, can you believe it? The gods truly favor him.”
“A hero,” someone else agreed. “A Judicator at his age… Windrest Keep finally has a worthy heir.”
Rhine kept his face neutral and kept walking.
He didn’t have to look far to see Jory’s influence. Banners. Fresh paint. A hundred tiny details screaming the same message:
This city belongs to House Fell.
This future belongs to Jory.
Rhine was still staring at the sea-crystal when a familiar, arrogant voice cut through the crowd.
“So you did show up.”
Rhine turned.
Jory Fell stood a few steps away, dressed like a man attending his own coronation. Gold trim. Clean boots. A smile that didn’t belong to anyone who’d ever seen the outer district.
Behind him, a pair of knights hovered like trained dogs.
Jory’s eyes flicked over Rhine—black coat, hat, cane—and the smile twisted.
“Still playing dress-up?” Jory said. “Trying to look like one of us?”
Rhine’s mouth curved, mild. “Says the guy wearing a parade uniform on a workday.”
Jory’s smile tightened. “You’ve got nerve.”
“I’ve got breakfast,” Rhine said. “And a schedule.”
Jory stepped closer, voice low enough to feel like a threat. “Enjoy it while you can. My father’s patience is not infinite. He may tolerate the Circle of Earth… but you’re still a nobody.”
Rhine met his eyes. Calm. Flat. Almost bored.
“You’re right,” Rhine said. “I’m a nobody.”
Jory blinked at the lack of fear, then sneered like he’d won.
Rhine added, softly, “That’s why you keep staring at me. Because you’re terrified a nobody can take everything you think you own.”
Jory’s face darkened.
The air changed.
A pressure rolled through the square—controlled, disciplined, heavy. People instinctively made room, like the city itself recognized authority.
A woman in a crimson cloak walked through the crowd.
Red Falcon.
She didn’t stride. She advanced—like a blade being pushed from its sheath.
Her presence hit Rhine a heartbeat before her voice did.
“Move along, Jory.”
Jory froze, then forced a smile that looked painful. “Red Falcon. You’re back.”
Red Falcon’s eyes didn’t soften. If anything, they sharpened. “I said move along.”
The knights behind Jory stiffened—then, sensing the difference in tiers, lowered their eyes.
Jory’s jaw worked. He wanted to argue. He wanted to posture.
He didn’t dare.
“Of course,” he said through his teeth, and backed away with something like dignity.
Only after he’d vanished into the crowd did Red Falcon look at Rhine.
Her gaze swept him once—checking for injuries out of habit—then she exhaled.
“You’re hard to corner,” she said.
Rhine chuckled. “You’re hard to ignore.”
Red Falcon’s mouth twitched. “Come. White Maple Manor. We need to talk.”
*
White Maple Manor looked the same on the outside.
Inside, everything felt tighter—more guards, more whispers, more eyes that had learned what a demon’s shadow looked like.
Benjamin was there. So was Jane, the Dreamwarden, one arm missing and her expression as sharp as ever. A few other Circle of Earth veterans lingered in the hall, their gazes tracking Red Falcon like she was a standard returning from war.
Rhine caught the details he hadn’t the last time: new scars. New gear. And the way Red Falcon’s aura sat heavier in the air.
“You advanced,” Rhine said.
Red Falcon nodded once. “Tier 4, Sixth Grade.”
Benjamin let out a low whistle. “That’s insane.”
Red Falcon ignored him. Her eyes stayed on Rhine. “I didn’t come back for praise. I came back because Windrest City isn’t done bleeding.”
Rhine didn’t argue.
He told them about the drained corpses. About Delanna’s warning. About Soul Fusion.
When he mentioned the name “Soul Devourer,” the room went still.
Jane’s remaining hand tightened around the back of a chair. “Taboo magic.”
Red Falcon’s gaze went cold. “If Panglos Fell is planning to fuse with Marsas…”
“He becomes a monster,” Rhine said. “And he’ll need blood every day.”
Benjamin swallowed. “So that’s why people have been going missing.”
Red Falcon’s voice was clipped. “We tried tracking the disappearances. The trail dies near Windrest Keep. Too many patrols.”
Rhine nodded. “Because the governor controls the streets.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your plan, Rhine?”
Rhine didn’t hesitate. “Tonight, we take Jory.”
Benjamin blinked. “What?”
Rhine met their gazes one by one. “Jory is already dead. The curse is just waiting for the clock to strike. We can either let him die somewhere random… or we can use his death.”
Red Falcon crossed her arms. “Use it how?”
Rhine’s voice stayed calm, but his eyes were bright with intent.
“We make his death look like a Soul Devourer fed,” Rhine said. “Drain him. Leave the body where it can be found. Force every faction with a brain to ask the same question: why is Windrest City producing bloodless corpses?”
Jane’s breath caught. “You want to drag the taboo into the light.”
“Exactly,” Rhine said. “Once it’s public, the Black-and-White Institute can’t pretend it’s ‘not their jurisdiction.’ The Circle of Earth can’t be stonewalled. Even the king’s people will start sniffing around.”
Benjamin looked sick. “That’s… vicious.”
Rhine’s expression didn’t change. “That’s effective.”
Red Falcon watched him for a long moment, then nodded.
“Fine,” she said. “If we’re doing this, we do it clean. No loose ends.”
Rhine’s lips quirked. “Funny. Skye said the same thing.”
Benjamin flinched at the name. “The cat’s involved?”
“She’s involved,” Rhine said. “And Haizan’s tribe is involved. Two troll warriors are already on their way.”
Red Falcon’s brow lifted. “Troll warriors.”
Rhine shrugged. “Turns out having a troll spirit in your pocket comes with perks.”
Jane’s gaze sharpened. “And the cleansing draught?”
“Delanna is brewing it,” Rhine said. “Two doses.”
Red Falcon nodded again, decisive. “Then tonight we take Jory. After that… we hunt the thing beneath Windrest Keep.”
Rhine looked out the manor window, toward the city square where the sea-crystal statue glittered like a promise.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “You wanted to know if there are corpses?”
He smiled, thin and tired.
“You’ll see them soon.”