The doors to Morgan LeFaye's study burst open.

  Selene stormed in first, Cassian only half a step behind her—and both of them froze.

  Morgan was not alone.

  She stood at the center of the chamber, one hand curled into the collar of Emperor Valerion Ashmar Valenfor, pulling him close as she kissed him deeply. The Emperor's arm rested easily at her waist, utterly unbothered by the intrusion. For several long heartbeats, neither of them moved.

  Then, unhurried and entirely unapologetic, they parted.

  Valerion exhaled slowly, adjusting his coat. "They returned sooner than you predicted."

  "So it would seem," Morgan replied calmly.

  She gave the Emperor a gentle push away, just enough to send him walking toward the door. As he passed Cassian, Valerion paused and tilted his head, gesturing for his son to follow.

  "Father," Cassian said firmly, "I wish to remain."

  Valerion didn't slow. "This does not concern you, boy. This is Hallow business."

  Cassian stepped forward. "Indeed. And I am not only part of her future coven, but also her future husband. That makes this my concern as well."

  Father and son locked eyes.

  For a moment, the air between them tightened.

  Then Valerion chuckled. "Are you?" he asked lightly. "And is she? Could've fooled me."

  He turned and left, the doors beginning to close behind him.

  "Send for me when you're done with the children," he said to Morgan without looking back.

  Morgan smiled faintly. "Is that a command," she asked, "or a request?"

  "Take it however you wish, love," Valerion replied. "Just send word."

  The doors shut.

  Morgan's smile lingered. Selene couldn't stand to watch the two of them flirt any longer and finally snapped.

  "We don't have time for this," she said sharply. "Grandmother—are you truly aware of what is happening in the Hallows?"

  Morgan dabbed delicately at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief embroidered with the Valenfor sigil. It was unmistakably the Emperor's. She set it aside and picked up a book from her desk, flipping a page.

  "If you mean Azeal," she said idly, "yes. If you mean your poor attempt to cull him, also yes."

  Selene's jaw clenched. "Azeal bears the mark of Zhoruun. A Deas. And you didn't think to tell me that? Or even explain what Bestial Marks are?"

  Morgan waved the question away. "It wouldn't have mattered. The outcome would have been the same."

  She turned another page.

  "And there is nothing to explain. Every Demon Lord who came here to destroy this world—and every Demon Lord still lurking in the Hallows—their bloodlines all carry the mark of a Deas."

  "Darius and Lucen almost died, Grandmother," Selene shouted, truly not understanding the depths of her grandmother's indifference.

  Morgan didn't look up.

  "And?" she asked.

  Selene stared at her. "What?"

  "And?" Morgan repeated coolly. "You're going up against powerful demons. Were you expecting no lives to be at risk?"

  "I—but..." Selene faltered.

  Morgan finally closed the book.

  "This," she said, "is why I didn't help you. You've grown spoiled under your own brilliance. The first time you encounter a real challenge, you come running, whining, throwing a tantrum."

  Selene's hands clenched. "This is your mess," she shot back. "A Demon Lord is threatening the peace of the Hallows because of your indifference."

  Morgan's expression hardened.

  "How dare you?" she said softly.

  "The peace of the Hallows will remain," Morgan continued, voice sharpening, "regardless of what those demons do. But do not—do not—place the blame for this failure on me."

  She rose from her chair.

  "The only reason you're involved in any of this is because you are obsessed with the damned First Coven!"

  "Grandmother—"

  "Silence!"

  The word cracked like a whip.

  "The Hallows were meant to remain separate from the affairs of the outside world," Morgan said coldly. "But for your selfish desires, you dragged those affairs here. You made this mess. Fix it."

  Selene stood rigid, her confidence bleeding away with every word.

  Cassian's jaw tightened. One hand lifted as if to reach for Selene—then stopped, hovering uselessly at his side before curling into a fist. He had never seen her like this.

  He stepped forward. "I may not know all the details, but—"

  "If you don't know," Morgan snapped, "then remain quiet, Prince."

  "I don't think I will," Cassian replied.

  Morgan turned her gaze to him, sharp and assessing.

  "You accuse Selene of selfishness," Cassian continued evenly, "yet you allowed it. You could have stopped her at any point. The gods know my father has stopped my willfulness on more than one occasion."

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  Morgan's eyes narrowed.

  "The fault of the child," Cassian finished, "is ultimately the fault of the parent. This is still your mess, Lady Morgan."

  Silence fell heavily over the study.

  Selene's shoulders, which had been drawn tight beneath Morgan's words, eased by a fraction. She inhaled slowly, grounding herself in the sound of Cassian's voice.

  Morgan eyed Cassian in silence.

  Cassian did not look away.

  "Also," he said evenly, "without your help, there will be politically charged deaths."

  "That is not my concern," Morgan replied at once.

  "I think it is," Cassian pressed. "Even I'm not certain I could survive another encounter with those demons if they're pushed into a corner. My death would—"

  "It would mean nothing," Morgan cut in.

  She did not raise her voice. She hardly looked in his direction.

  The words were delivered with flat indifference.

  Cassian stared at her, the words lodging somewhere behind his ribs. "I am the Crown Prince of Valenfor."

  For the first time since entering the study, his posture shifted—just slightly. His shoulders squared as if bracing for a blow that had already landed.

  "And so was your older brother before you," Morgan replied calmly. "And his elder sister before him."

  Her faint smile did not carry warmth or cruelty. It was the expression of someone stating a fact long settled.

  Cassian's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing he could say that would make her wrong.

  She smiled faintly.

  "That beast of a man has plenty of heirs to replace you with."

  Cassian scoffed. "I am by far the best heir he's ever had. And I am a descendant of the First Coven. The fallout would not be small."

  Morgan nodded. "You saw your father moments ago, did you not? I wouldn't mind giving him another child—to soothe the aching heart of a handsome emperor."

  She chuckled softly.

  Cassian's expression hardened. "You're unbelievable."

  "I am a realist," she said evenly. "During the Demon War, I made decisions every single day that weighed one life against another. Hundreds against thousands. Thousands against one." Her voice did not rise or fall. "If you hesitated, more people died. If you deluded yourself into thinking everyone mattered equally, everyone would be lost."

  She stepped closer, just enough for the weight of her presence to press in.

  "So understand this, Prince—I know exactly how expendable someone is. As special as you believe yourself to be, you are replaceable. And thus expendable."

  She tilted her head.

  "Just like your mother."

  Cassian's jaw flexed violently.

  "She was special," Morgan continued, unbothered. "A powerful witch who could survive a royal birth. Yet she was killed—and yet the Sanctum still stands."

  Cassian took a sharp breath.

  "Why? Because what the Sanctum provides is irreplaceable," Morgan went on. "What your mother provided—while rare—could be—"

  "I dare not presume to threaten the First Witch," Cassian interrupted, his voice tight, controlled by sheer force of will. "But I beg you, Madam—do not speak another word of my mother. For fear I may not know what I might do."

  Morgan closed the book in her hands.

  "My deepest apologies, Prince," she said lightly. "That may have been too crass."

  Before she could continue, Selene's voice broke the silence.

  "Am I replaceable?"

  Morgan's cold exterior shattered instantly.

  She turned to Selene, her expression softening in a way Cassian had never seen directed at anyone else.

  "Child," Morgan said quietly, "you know the answer to that."

  Selene swallowed. "Then that is my leverage, Grandmother. I finally have people around me who see me for who I am. And I will do what I must to ensure they survive."

  "Even at the cost of your own life?" Morgan asked.

  "Yes."

  Morgan studied her carefully.

  "You know you won't be able to save everyone," she said. "People will die. It is nearly impossible to achieve a happy ending when demons are involved."

  Selene closed her eyes.

  "Impossible," she said softly, "for the LeFaye is merely a mild inconvenience."

  Morgan smiled.

  "Well said."

  She rose to her feet.

  "So you'll help us?" Cassian asked.

  "No," Morgan replied at once. "Not directly."

  Cassian frowned—but Selene did not.

  "But," Morgan continued, her gaze returning to Selene, "I like that look in your eyes. So I will properly teach you how to draw upon the power of a coven."

  She stepped closer.

  "Think of it as laying the foundation for your future."

  Selene exhaled slowly. "That's good—but it won't be enough. We'll need more firepower. I'll speak to my grandfather."

  "Rhydan will be a significant asset, if he agrees," Morgan agreed. "But you, the Prince, and Rhydan will not suffice."

  Selene's eyes narrowed.

  "You will need at least two others, possibly more," Morgan said. "Of course, I’m working under the assumption that those four demons are not acting alone."

  Selene didn't respond. She didn't need to.

  Morgan smiled.

  "I can offer further insight."

  "Please," Selene said.

  "You have five more at your disposal," Morgan replied. "The first, belongs to no one—yet is always present. Three of the others, when the Hallows are threatened, who stands as its first line of defense?"

  She chuckled.

  "As for the last. Spring is just around the corner, isn't it?"

  Selene's eyes widened.

  The realization struck her like a physical blow, her breath catching sharply in her chest.

  "Bandy?!" she shouted suddenly, the word tearing out of her. "Bandy's hibernation should be over."

  Cassian blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt shift. "Bandy?" he echoed. "Who is Bandy?"

  Morgan's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile, not quite amusement—as she answered, her tone maddeningly casual.

  "A pet," she said. "Left to her by her father. A creature of the most ancient of bloodlines—one even demons fear. After eating it’s full it hibernates for months at a time, but it should be waking up soon."

  Cassian stiffened.

  “A Lefaye pet?”, he thought grimly, knowing full well that the LeFaye definition of the word clearly differed from everyone else's.

  Selene was already moving, her mind racing faster than her feet.

  "We have a lot to do," she said, voice tight but focused. "First, I'll go talk to my grandfather. Then I'll go pick up Bandy."

  Cassian turned slightly, trying to keep up with the cascade of decisions. "What about the first person she mentioned?" he asked.

  Selene didn't slow.

  "I know who she means," she replied. "I'll go ask him too, then come back here." She stopped just long enough to look at Cassian fully, her expression sharp, resolved. "Cassian, go back to the others. You need to be there if the demons try something. I'll have my hands full for a while."

  She didn't wait for agreement.

  "Selene, wait—I—dammit."

  The words were useless the moment they left his mouth. Selene was already through the door, her presence vanishing as completely as if the tower itself had swallowed her.

  The room fell quiet again.

  Morgan turned her gaze to Cassian, studying him with open curiosity now, head tilted slightly.

  "You're surprisingly passive," she observed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Compared to your father. That's never going to get you anywhere with her."

  Cassian paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. He let out a slow breath, the tension draining from his posture just enough to be honest.

  "So I've been told…"

  He left without another word.

  The door closed.

  For a long moment, Morgan remained where she was, the amusement fading from her expression. She reached into the folds of her garments and withdrew a small orb, its surface dark and faintly reflective, light pulsing softly within.

  She spoke into it, her voice low, precise.

  "The children have left. Hurry back."

  The response came almost immediately, distorted but unmistakable.

  "I'm on my way."