Syrin directed us into the living room like he was arranging pieces on a battlefield. Mom settled on the couch with him across from her. I hovered beside her shoulder, trying not to fidget.

  Syrin stared at Mom for a long moment… then his eyes slid to me. His glow was deep bronze. “Trina,” he said quietly, “you’re not going to like this, but I need to restrain you.”

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  He stood again, and his voice was calm. Healer Syrin, not the nervous one that had bolted away from me earlier. “Restrain you. This will require all of my concentration, and I will be attacking a piece of shadow connected to what’s inside you. If the infection pushes you to attack me, I could hurt both of you. This is safer.”

  “Oh.” My voice squeaked. “Cool. Great. Totally normal. Love that.”

  I glanced around the apartment. Not a lot of medieval dungeon options here unless Syrin wanted to zip-tie me to the door handle. “Um… can you tie me to a wall? I’m not sure our furniture is up for anything restraint related.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  We both scanned the room again for a few seconds, then he pursed his lips and disappeared into the kitchen. A second later, he reappeared with one of the dining room chairs tucked under his arm.

  “Really?” I said. “That seems pretty mobile.”

  He gave me an amused look before setting the chair down. Light flowed from his fingers as he pressed them to the backrest. Golden tendrils threaded down the legs and into the floorboards like roots burrowing deep.

  Syrin stepped back with a cocky grin. “It’s not going anywhere now.”

  It was the smuggest I had ever seen him, which felt rude given the circumstances. I moved over and nudged the chair with my foot. Then I leaned down to shove it. It didn’t move. It was Excalibur-tier immovable, and I was apparently the unworthy idiot who couldn’t budge it.

  “You’re way too happy about this,” I muttered, glancing up at Syrin.

  Suddenly, all that confidence broke like a wave collapsing, and I felt terrible. His eyes flashed silver, even though his glow stayed a steady bronze threaded with gold. “I don’t want to do this,” he murmured, voice low. “But I will not risk hurting you.”

  I slid into the chair. “It’s fine, Syrin. You’re doing your best. I’m the one causing problems. Go ahead and chain the shadow away.”

  Syrin glared. “That’s not—”

  “She jokes like this when she’s scared, Syrin,” Mom interrupted.

  I went bright red as she added, “Just secure her, and let’s get this over with.”

  I couldn’t look at him, but I whispered, “Go ahead.”

  A moment later, his fingers brushed my wrist at the edge of the cuff. The touch was light, almost delicate, and then the cuff flared softly and anchored itself to the armrest. He squeezed my hand once before letting go, and I finally looked up at him.

  His expression was so… compassionate that I almost had to look away. But I didn’t. I forced myself to hold his gaze.

  Mom cleared her throat, loud enough to remind us she was definitely still there. My face burned again, and I looked away again as Syrin secured my other hand with a light, reassuring stroke on my wrist.

  Footsteps sounded as Syrin returned to the couch, and I finally chanced looking up again. He settled back in front of Mom, palms hovering a few inches above her forearm. His glow shifted, the gold fading as the bronze sharpened. Everything went still like something in our world was listening.

  I’d never felt that outside of Kirath before.

  “Ready?” he asked softly.

  Mom nodded once, jaw already tight. “Go ahead.”

  “It will likely hurt,” he warned. “And Trina…” His voice cracked. “I promise I’m not ignoring you. I know the shadow might react… I just… I can’t focus on anything else.”

  “Good,” I forced out. “Just focus on Mom.”

  He nodded. I swallowed hard, fingers twitching uselessly against the cuffs.

  Syrin inhaled. Then light seeped from his hands, in those soft, golden tendrils I’d seen before, not bright exactly, but dense. They gathered around Mom before touching her skin and spider webbing out like golden veins.

  Mom hissed through her teeth.

  “Keep still if you can,” Syrin murmured, voice rough. “The infection won’t leave willingly.”

  I wanted to go to her. I wanted to rip myself out of the chair, but the cuffs held. For a moment, the need was so violent that I suddenly had to wonder… I wanted to help, to comfort Mom, but was it me that wanted to get close? Or something inside me?

  The need to go to her sharpened into real pain, too sharp and sudden to be mine. The cuffs warmed, humming as if reminding me, You chose this. Stay.

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  Something inside me recoiled. A jolt went through me so sharp I gasped. Blackness spidered across my vision, invisible to everyone but me. Then a sensation like cold fire raced under my skin. My back arched against the chair.

  I let out a whimper, and Syrin’s glow flickered for a moment.

  “Keep going!” I choked out. It was harder to force out the words than it should have been.

  Mom shot me a quick glance. Her jaw was clenched, teeth gritted in a way that only happened when she was pretending something hurt less than it did.

  Syrin exhaled. His glow flared brighter, bright enough that the edges of him blurred. Mom’s knuckles were white around the pillow she’d grabbed.

  The gold deepened, turning almost white. The whole room brightened, swallowing shadows, swallowing detail until Mom and Syrin were just two silhouettes made of light pressed together.

  The shadow in me struck. A violent, wrenching pull tore through my core, like something inside me was trying to rip itself out and drag me with it. I cried out before I could stop myself. The cuffs yanked tight as my arms jerked, but the chair didn’t move an inch.

  The light receded as Syrin let out a distressed sound, enough that I could see him clearly again.

  “Don’t stop,” Mom snarled, every syllable punched through a clenched jaw. “Finish it, Syrin!”

  His eyes were shut tight, but the glow flashed bronze. Then light surged, exploding outward, gold instead of white.

  And suddenly, I wasn’t in the room anymore. The shadow inside me fled, dragging me with it. For a moment, there was nothing. I felt like I was drowning in darkness again. Then the shadow yanked again, and I was in a room, and also nowhere at all. I was night. I was darkness. I was nothing that should be in this world.

  And I was looking at a huge, deep blue banner embroidered with a gold torch. Rows of chairs were arrayed in front of me, filled with people in Kirathi clothing. Rich people, from the looks of it. Someone was speaking at a podium, but I couldn’t hear the words. My attention turned to the man next to me. He was wearing a signet ring like he was some Lord, a wyvern curled around a sword.

  Something that was me—but not—whimpered, like it was begging for help. Then, I was suddenly being thrust back into the sensation of drowning. My sight went dark, leaving me alone in the nothingness.

  No air. No light. Nothing. Who was I?

  Then gold invaded the darkness. The gold I hated. Fury burned within me, crushing me like a vise until I couldn’t breathe, not because of the nothingness this time, but because of the overwhelming, suffocating rage.

  Gold wrapped around me completely. Drowning me. I would drown in that awful light—

  Then suddenly, I could breathe again. And the anger snapped into terror. My terror.

  Me. I was me. Not shadow, not nothing. The darkness melted away along with that horrible sensation of being unmade.

  I slammed back into my body. My lungs seized, and I realized I was crying and shaking uncontrollably. There were arms wrapped around me, crushing me to someone’s chest.

  A second warmth pressed along my back. Mom’s voice broke next to my ear, panicked. “Is she alright? Will she—”

  Sound rumbled against me. “She’s fine. She’ll be fine.” Syrin’s voice. Calm. Too calm.

  The words hit something deep inside of me. Mom was unraveling, and Syrin was the steady one.

  And that scared me more than the darkness had.

  The person behind me—Mom—tugged, and I was guided forward. I nearly fell into the couch as she settled beside me, clutching my arm like I’d vanish if she let go. Syrin’s weight sank against my other side, bracing me.

  “Trina!” Mom’s voice cracked. Her hands threaded through my hair, brushing through it like she needed to reassure herself I was there. “Are you alright, honey? Please, say something.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m…”

  Was I okay?

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but instead words just rushed out. “I… I was here, and then I wasn’t. I was drowning again and… and…”

  Mom’s arms wrapped around me.

  Syrin’s hand slipped around mine, squeezing gently. “I should have warned you. I didn’t expect—” His voice tightened. “I didn’t think the infection had progressed so deeply.”

  His hand stroked along my arm like he was trying to apologize through contact. “I didn’t know it could hide from me like that. Normally they aren’t… clever. Dangerous, yes, but direct. No longer human.”

  “I know,” I gasped out.

  Syrin’s hand froze, but Mom’s arms stayed just as tight around me.

  “It just wants,” I said, memories of that primal need flashing through me. “It’s not intelligent that way, but…” I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to slow. “I… saw something. It wasn’t here. I think the infection grabbed me when you pulled the shadow out of Mom. It dragged me somewhere.”

  I bit my lip. “I think I was someone else for a moment.”

  Both of them stiffened.

  “Someone else?” Syrin said softly.

  I wiped at my face with a shaking hand. “Yes. Does that even make sense?”

  Syrin didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the three of us were just pressed together on the couch. It should have been comforting, but wasn’t.

  Finally, Syrin took a shaky breath. His glow flickered, copper threaded sharply through the gold. “One can bind themselves to a Nightbound with magic. If you saw through someone else’s eyes, it was likely the creator… or someone who made a deal with the creator.”

  I shivered.

  Syrin shifted closer, his warmth leaning into my side. “I know that must have been awful,” he murmured, “but can you describe what you saw? It could help us identify who’s trying to kill me.” His voice was soft, but there was an edge beneath it.

  I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the memory before it slipped away. “A… hall. A really big room. There were rows of chairs, all facing each other in a sort of circle, but the front had a podium thing. And the chairs had people. Lots of them. Men. All in Kirathi clothing. Expensive-looking. Formal.”

  Syrin’s hand tightened on my arm as Mom shifted back to see my face.

  “There was a man next to me,” I continued. “He was wearing what looked like a signet ring with a wyvern wrapped around a sword.”

  Syrin’s breath caught.

  “Syrin?” I asked.

  “That’s… that’s the crest of one of the noble houses in Crithlinor,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean—”

  He cut himself off, voice suddenly taut. “Trina. Was anything on the walls? A tapestry? Or some sort of banner?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. At the front. A huge banner. Deep blue, but with a torch embroidered in gold.”

  The effect was immediate.

  Syrin went utterly still. His glow flared white before bleeding violently into copper. For a second he looked stunned, but then his expression twisted into something like fury, sharp and raw. For a moment, he was almost unrecognizable.

  “Syrin?” Mom said, melting back to her usual, almost-too-calm demeanor.

  “You’re certain?” Syrin whispered, voice tight.

  “Yes.” I could see it in my mind, clear as day. “Why? What is it?”

  He swallowed, but his throat didn’t seem to want to work. “My banner. Our banner. The symbol of Crithnon’s court.”

  The room felt suddenly colder.

  “Where?” Mom asked.

  Syrin’s voice went hollow. “It sounds like the Council Chamber,” he said. “In Crithlinor. The heart of our government. What you are describing sounds like an emergency council of the Lords of the Realm.”

  My stomach dropped. Mom’s face had gone bloodless.

  Syrin leaned forward like the ground had vanished beneath him. His glow flared copper again—wild, distressed—then dimmed abruptly as he forced it down.

  “Your infection…” He swallowed hard. “Someone in the court made a deal with the Nightbound. Something to do with me,” he whispered, horror settling into every word.

  I stared at him. Mom let out a slow, shaky exhale.

  Syrin finally met my eyes. “It’s not an enemy nation that sent those assassins. It’s… it’s an ally. Someone within Crithnon’s own government.”