"If you're lying," she whispered, "I'll kill you."
Qaritas almost smiled.
Not because the threat was funny.
Because it sounded familiar.
For one heartbeat—
he could almost hear the woman from Hellbound.
The warrior.
The one who stood before horrors and smiled.
The one the Fragments feared.
The one who fought like a catastrophe wearing skin.
Then the illusion shattered.
Because she was shaking.
Her hands trembled around the blanket.
Her shoulders were rigid.
Her breathing came too fast.
Too shallow.
Too frightened.
Nine.
Gods.
She was only nine.
And suddenly every story Eon carried felt wrong.
Not false.
Wrong.
Because none of them prepared him for this.
For seeing her like this.
Small.
Scared.
Alone.
A distant alarm screamed outside.
WARD PROPERTY MISSING.
The reaction was immediate.
Xheavend moved.
Not toward them.
Away.
Her entire body shifted.
One glance toward the door.
Another toward the window.
Then the ceiling.
The corners.
The shadows.
The wardrobe.
The bed.
Every possible escape route.
Every possible hiding place.
Every possible threat.
Her eyes never stopped moving.
Calculating.
Measuring.
Preparing.
Qaritas felt sick.
Not because she was afraid.
Because she was practiced.
This wasn't panic.
This was routine.
Like she'd done this before.
Many times.
The realization hit harder than any blade.
She wasn't thinking like a child.
She was thinking like prey.
The alarm continued outside.
Xheavend slowly slid off the bed.
Bare feet touching wood.
Ready to run.
Ready to bolt.
Ready to vanish.
Qaritas raised both hands.
"I'm not stopping you."
She didn't believe him.
He could see it immediately.
The muscles in her legs remained tense.
Prepared.
Waiting.
Stevão watched from the doorway.
Silent now.
No jokes.
No smiles.
Only understanding.
Xima looked away.
Like she couldn't stand seeing it.
Qaritas swallowed.
Then made a mistake.
A small one.
An innocent one.
"You don't need to run."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Your brother Tavran—"
Everything stopped.
Completely.
The room froze.
Xheavend froze with it.
No blinking.
No movement.
No breathing.
Nothing.
For several long seconds she became a statue.
A child-shaped silence.
Then slowly—
very slowly—
she looked up.
Straight at him.
Trying to understand.
Trying to decide if he'd actually said that.
Or if she'd imagined it.
"Tavran?"
Her voice cracked.
Qaritas immediately knew he had made a mistake.
A huge one.
Because only family should know that name.
Only family.
Only people she trusted.
Only people she loved.
The room became impossibly quiet.
Then blood began to roll from her eyes.
Thin crimson tears.
Trailing down pale cheeks.
Her jaw clenched.
Her hands balled into fists.
Fight.
"Who told you that?"
The words exploded out of her.
Qaritas blinked.
She took a step forward.
"Who told you?"
Another.
"What did you do to him?"
Blood continued dripping.
Her voice rose.
"What happened?"
"What happened to Tavran?"
Qaritas opened his mouth.
She grabbed the nearest object.
A wooden cup.
And threw it.
Hard.
It bounced off his shoulder.
She immediately reached for something else.
A spoon.
A plate.
Anything.
Everything.
Whatever she could grab.
Stevão slowly backed out of throwing range.
A wise decision.
"What did you do?"
Her voice broke.
"What did you do to my family?"
Qaritas let her throw.
Let her scream.
Let her be angry.
Because now he understood.
This wasn't hatred.
This was love.
Pure love.
The kind that fought.
The kind that refused to surrender.
The kind Tavran would have been proud of.
Then suddenly—
all the anger vanished.
Collapsed.
Folded inward.
Xheavend's shoulders dropped.
Her gaze lowered.
The fight drained away.
And something worse took its place.
Sadness.
Raw.
Terrible.
Small.
"Tomorrow..."
Her voice barely existed.
"...is my birthday."
Nobody spoke.
Not Qaritas.
Not Stevão.
Not Xima.
Not even Eon.
She stared at the floor.
"Tomorrow I'm supposed to be ten."
The room shattered.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Qaritas felt something twist deep inside his chest.
Tomorrow.
Ten.
A birthday.
She should have been worrying about cake.
About presents.
About her brothers embarrassing her.
Not this.
Never this.
And suddenly—
a memory surfaced.
Not his.
Future.
Eon's.
Something.
He wasn't sure.
A dock.
Deepcrest.
Sunlight.
Water.
Laughter.
Tavran carrying Xheavend on his shoulder while she complained she could walk herself.
Varin cheating at some ridiculous game.
Getting caught.
Refusing to apologize.
Rezorin correcting her stance.
Her grip.
Her timing.
Pretending he wasn't teaching her.
Icardà healing a frightened child on a dock.
Gentle.
Patient.
Kind.
And Xheavend laughing.
Actually laughing.
Bright.
Wild.
Happy.
Loved.
Protected.
Safe.
Then reality returned.
Brutally.
The room.
The blood.
The fear.
The bruises.
The child sitting alone on a bed.
No family.
No brothers.
No safety.
Qaritas hated the Third Universe.
A little more than before.
Something rustled beneath his arm.
The Book.
The stitched monstrosity suddenly flew free.
Its purple eyes opened.
Blinking.
Watching.
The pages flipped rapidly.
Thousands.
Millions.
Then stopped.
LABYRINTH
GORAXIAN
Qaritas frowned.
"What?"
Xheavend frowned too.
The Book remained open.
Silent.
Then the ink shifted.
Moving.
Rewriting.
Changing.
HELLO END
The room went silent.
Qaritas stared.
Xheavend stared.
The Book stared.
"...End?"
Xheavend whispered.
She slowly climbed off the bed.
Then knelt beside the floating Book.
Completely fascinated.
Like she'd forgotten she was terrified.
Because she was still a child.
"How do you know End?"
The Book did not respond.
"Have you met End?"
Nothing.
She tilted her head.
"Are you shy?"
Still nothing.
Qaritas looked between them.
Then at the Book.
Then back.
Then at the Book again.
"IT TALKS TO YOU?"
Xheavend blinked.
"Apparently."
Stevão laughed so hard he nearly fell over.
Xima covered her face.
Qaritas pointed accusingly at the Book.
"You talk?"
Silence.
"You absolute parasite."
Silence.
"You have never talked."
Silence.
Xheavend poked the page.
"Nice to meet you."
The Book immediately flipped to a new page.
FROG
LABYRINTH
GORAXIAN
Stevão stopped laughing.
Instantly.
The room changed.
The humor vanished.
The tavern owner stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Reading.
Thinking.
"Goraxian."
His voice was quieter now.
More serious.
Qaritas looked up.
Stevão folded his arms.
"The Labyrinth."
His expression darkened.
Qaritas blinked.
Stevão laughed once.
Humorless.
The Book's pages rustled.
The ink shifted.
Only once.
LABYRINTH
As if reminding them.
As if urging them.
As if time itself was running out.
And somewhere beneath Yeitshoja—
far below the castle—
far below the chains—
far below the screams—
ancient waited.
And the path to it had just begun.