FLASHBACK – ONE DAY EARLIER
The council room wasn't supposed to still exist.
That's what Arlo told himself every time he descended the saltstone stairwell. Every time the glyph-sealed door closed behind him. Every time the flickering candles revealed the same seven figures.
And every time they spoke her name.
"Mirelen."
He hated that name.
Not because of her—because of what it meant. What they'd done to her. What he had helped them do.
"You've confirmed she spoke the first word?" asked Professor Mire, seated at the head of the crescent table.
Arlo stood still, hands clasped behind his back, heart tight.
"Yes."
"She remembered the glyph?"
"No. Not yet."
"Did she react to the mirror mark?"
"Yes."
He paused.
Then added: "She summoned Eli."
That changed the room.
The air thickened.
The older man with the scar across his jaw—Professor Lenveil—leaned forward.
"He wasn't supposed to return."
"She wasn't supposed to forget," Arlo snapped before he could stop himself.
The silence that followed was not kind.
Professor Mire raised one eyebrow, gaze unreadable. "You're compromised."
Arlo didn't flinch. "I was compromised the day you let them erase her."
A silence again.
But this time, there was no denial.
Mire folded her hands.
"She'll reach the third word soon," she said quietly. "You know what that means."
Arlo did.
And it terrified him.
---
PRESENT – IVY'S ROOM, MIDNIGHT
Ivy didn't sleep so much as drift.
The mark on her arm pulsed faintly through her sweater, like a second heartbeat. Outside, wind hissed like whispers through the window frame. Her desk lamp flickered, even though it was off.
She closed her eyes.
And fell.
---
DREAM — A MEMORY RETURNING
Snow.
Not soft, not quiet. Sharp, like glass flakes.
Ivy ran barefoot through the orchard, blood trailing from her hands. Someone screamed behind her.
Ahead: a platform of black stone. A crown of mirrored glass resting on it. The real Crown.
She knew what it was. What it meant.
She also knew what it would do if she wore it.
Behind her—Eli was fighting someone. Or something. Glyphs sparking in the air like broken circuits.
"Ivy!" he yelled. "You have to break it!"
She reached the platform.
Lifted the Crown.
It felt alive.
Not heavy, not cold.
Just… listening.
And when she threw it to the ground, when she smashed it beneath her heel—
She heard a voice.
"You've said the third word."
She turned.
Calla stood behind her.
Only this version wore the Crown already.
Ivy woke up screaming.
---
The mark on her arm was burning.
Not glowing—burning.
And beside her bed stood Eli.
But his edges flickered wildly now. His voice sounded doubled, like it was coming from two places at once.
"Ivy," he whispered. "You said it. I felt it."
"I don't even know the third word," she choked.
Eli crouched beside her.
"You knew it once."
Then he opened his palm.
Inside it: a shard of the mirror Crown she shattered.
And in its reflection, Ivy's mouth moved.
Saying something silent.
Then again.
Then aloud.
"Sithrelai."
---
End of Chapter Seventeen