They found Edric Veyne in a place they never expected: beneath the palace.
Not in the grand dungeon or a secret archive, but in the ancient sewer system stretching beneath the city of Ashford—remnants of a much older civilization that had existed long before this kingdom was founded. Kaelan had received a tip from an old beggar who claimed to have seen "a man with one strange eye" slip into a hole near the eastern wall. After two hours of crawling through narrow tunnels that reeked of earth and stagnant water, they finally found him.
Edric was living in a room that might once have been a storage chamber or warehouse. The red brick walls were damp and covered in moss, but in one corner stood a neatly arranged stack of books and scrolls, and in another, a simple wooden plank bed. The only source of light was an oil lantern hanging from the ceiling. Beneath its flickering glow, the shadows on the walls moved in ways that didn't match the lantern's motion.
Edric was sitting in front of his pile of books when they entered. He didn't seem surprised to see them—as if he had already known they were coming.
"Finally," he said, closing the book he was reading. "I thought you'd arrive sooner. But you always need time to make up your mind, don't you, Rowena? Nine lifetimes, and you still need time to decide."
Kaelan stood in front of Rowena with his sword drawn, even though he knew it would be useless if Edric truly meant them harm. "You said you wanted to help. Yet you're hiding here, in a place no one would ever find. That doesn't sound like someone who wants to help."
Edric smiled. It was a strange smile—half bitter, half weary. "I'm hiding because I don't want them to find me, Kaelan. Not the other way around. Someone is watching. Up there in the palace, there are people who know I'm still alive. And they will do anything to silence me."
"Lord Devereux?" Rowena asked.
"Lord Devereux is one of them. But not the most dangerous." Edric fixed his flickering silver eye on Rowena. "What do you know about the ritual from thirty years ago?"
"Not much. Only that it failed. And that you survived."
"It failed because we made a fundamental mistake. We thought the key to opening the gate was blood. Blood from the three families, spilled together on the altar, using the same ritual that was once used to seal it. We believed that by reversing the ritual, we could open it."
He stood and walked over to his stack of books, picking up a yellowed, fragile scroll.
"But we were wrong. The gate isn't opened with blood. It's opened with soul. A whole soul. An unbroken soul. A soul like the one you had before you were shattered into three."
Rowena felt her chest tighten. "You're talking about the Anima Triformis."
"Yes. When the three siblings made their pact with Morana, they didn't just split her soul. They split their own souls as well. Each family took one piece of Morana's soul and passed it down to their descendants. That's why the de Montfort family always gives birth to twins—because the piece of Morana's soul they carry is split in two. One for the heir, one for the sacrifice."
Edric unrolled the scroll on the stone table in the center of the room. On it was a complex diagram—three interlocking circles, each containing a different symbol: the Ashworth symbol, the de Montfort symbol, and the Veyne symbol. In the center of all three was a fourth, empty circle.
"This is a map of the soul, Rowena. Three families, three pieces of Morana's soul. But there is a fourth piece. The missing piece. The piece that was never given to anyone."
"The Caspian piece," Rowena said softly.
Edric nodded. "Caspian isn't just the Mirror God. He is the part of Morana that was cut away before the pact was made. The part that holds memory, desire, and… freedom. Without that piece, Morana is merely an obedient guardian. Without it, the three families possess power without wisdom. Without it, the gate cannot be fully sealed—only held shut."
He pointed to the empty circle in the center of the diagram.
"The key you hold, Rowena, is not for uniting the three pieces of your soul. It is the key to summoning that fourth piece. Caspian doesn't want you to reunite your soul. He wants you to call him out from the Second Layer, so he can take the missing piece and become whole again. And once he is whole, he will not be your ally. He will be your master."
Kaelan gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. "And the ritual that failed thirty years ago? What really happened?"
"We tried to summon that fourth piece without understanding what we were doing. We thought we were calling power. But what we summoned was something hungry. Something that had been waiting for thousands of years to break free. The ritual failed because we didn't have the true key—we only had blood. But we managed to open a small crack. Just enough to let something into this world. Just enough to turn me into… this."
He gestured toward his strange eye.
"I saw it, Rowena. I saw what lies beyond the gate. Not Caspian. Not Morana. But something far older. Something that has no name because no one dares to name it. Something that has been waiting since before these gods even existed. And it… it is hungry. Not for blood. Not for souls. But for reality itself. For this world. For all worlds."
The room grew cold. Rowena could feel the Sigillum Dei Mortis on her wrist pulsing rapidly, like a terrified heartbeat.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "If this key will only summon Caspian, if opening the gate will release something even more terrible, and if closing it with sacrifice means sacrificing more children… what's left?"
Edric stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled. A strange smile that oddly resembled Kaelan's—warm, yet filled with deep pain behind it.
"That is the right question, Rowena. That is the question you never asked in your nine previous lives. And that is why this time might be different."
He reached behind his stack of books and pulled out a small object wrapped in black cloth. Carefully, he unwrapped it, revealing a small mirror. It wasn't like the mirrors in the secret archives or the de Montfort dungeon. This mirror was different—its frame was made of bone, white and smooth, carved with symbols Rowena had never seen before. Its surface wasn't dark or blue, but clear, like ordinary glass. Yet when Rowena looked into it, she didn't see her own reflection.
She saw three faces at once: Celine, Morana, and herself. But this time, they weren't alternating. They stood side by side, like three people looking out through the same window.
"This mirror," Edric said, "is the only thing that survived the ritual thirty years ago. I took it before they could destroy it. This mirror is not connected to Caspian or Morana. It is connected to what lies behind them. To something much older. And within this mirror lies the answer to your question."
Rowena reached for the mirror with trembling hands. The moment her fingers touched the bone frame, she felt something she had never felt before—not cold, not heat, but silence. A silence so profound that she could hear her own thoughts screaming.
"Look," Edric whispered. "Look at what truly happened in your nine lives. Not what Caspian told you. Not what you remember. But what actually was."
Rowena gazed into the mirror.
And she saw.
The First Life.
She stood at the same altar in the de Montfort dungeon, but this altar was whole, without cracks, glowing with a pale blue light. Around it stood three figures—a man wearing the Ashworth crown, a woman in a blue de Montfort gown, and a man with the Veyne sword. They were the three siblings. Their faces were young, full of conviction and ambition.
And on the altar lay a small child. A girl with golden-blonde hair, bound hand and foot, her eyes wide open but empty—like a doll waiting to be destroyed.
Rowena wanted to scream, but she had no voice here. She could only watch.
One of the three siblings—the de Montfort woman—raised a knife. In her other hand, she held a small mirror, identical to the one Rowena now held. She pressed the mirror against the child's chest, and the child screamed—not a scream of pain, but the scream of someone seeing something horrifying.
From the child's chest, blue light poured out, splitting into three streams that flowed into the three siblings. The child's body went limp, and the light in her eyes faded.
But in the mirror pressed to her chest, something moved. A shadow. A shadow that emerged from the mirror and entered the child's body, filling her with something new. The child opened her eyes again, and now they were different—one blue, one black.
This was the beginning, Rowena thought. This was the moment I was created.
The Second Life.
She saw herself—or another version of herself—standing before a large mirror, wearing the same gown Celine had worn when she died. In her hand, she held an old silver key—the same key now in her pocket.
"This time," the other her said, "I will open it. I will end this."
She thrust the key into the mirror's surface. The mirror cracked, and from the cracks poured shadows—not the small ones that roamed Ashford, but large shadows, almost solid, with glowing red eyes. They surged out like a flood, overwhelming the room, the palace, the entire city.
And in the midst of that flood of shadows, the other her stood with arms outstretched, laughing—laughing like someone who had gone mad.
This was what Caspian called "the choice to open the gate," Rowena thought. But this wasn't liberation. This was destruction.
The Third Life.
She saw another version of herself, this time older, with hair beginning to turn gray, standing at the same altar with a knife in hand. Before her lay a small child—a girl with the same golden-blonde hair—her eyes empty.
"I'm sorry," the other her whispered. "I'm sorry. But this is the only way."
The knife came down. Blood sprayed. The gate closed. And the other her fell to her knees, weeping, while in the distance, the shadows slowly retreated back into the mirror.
This was what Caspian called "the choice to close the gate," Rowena thought. But this wasn't protection. This was the same sacrifice that had continued for thousands of years.
The Fourth through Eighth Lives.
She saw variations of the same two choices. Opening the gate with the key and witnessing destruction. Or closing the gate with sacrifice and watching another child die. Nothing changed. Each time, she chose one of those two paths. Each time, the result was the same: suffering, death, and the cycle repeating.
And each time, at the end of that life, she saw Caspian standing in the distance, smiling. Not a smile of triumph. But a smile of patience. As if he knew that eventually, Rowena would grow tired and choose to let it all end.
The Ninth Life.
This one was different.
She saw the other her standing at the altar, holding the key in one hand and the knife in the other. But this time, she didn't thrust the key into the mirror, nor did she stab the child before her. She stood still, tears streaming down her cheeks, and said:
"I will not choose."
Caspian appeared before her, not in the mirror, but in the real world, standing in front of her with an almost solid body.
"You must choose, Rowena. That is your curse. You must choose."
"I will not choose," the other her repeated. "You choose. You decide what happens next. Because I'm tired. I'm tired of being a pawn. I'm tired of watching children die. I'm tired of being a tool for someone else's purpose. If this world wants to be destroyed, let it be destroyed. If it wants to survive, let it survive. But I will no longer be part of that choice."
Caspian looked at her with unreadable eyes. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"You think by not choosing, you are free? No, Rowena. By not choosing, you allow others to choose for you. And others will not be as gentle as I am."
He extended his hand, and from his palm, blue light struck the other her, shattering her into three—one becoming Celine, one becoming Morana, and one becoming… a light that shot into the sky, leaving this world and going to an unknown place.
The Tenth Life. The life in Oxford. The life as an archaeologist studying artifacts from this world.
And as she departed, Rowena heard Caspian say:
"You will return, Rowena. You always return. And someday, you will grow tired. And you will choose. Not to close. Not to open. But to let me out. And when that happens, I will take what is mine."
Rowena opened her eyes.
She was kneeling on the floor of Edric's underground room, tears streaming down her cheeks, the bone mirror lying cracked in front of her. Kaelan knelt beside her, holding her shoulders, his face deathly pale.
"Rowena! Rowena, you fainted again! I was calling your name—"
"I know," Rowena whispered, her voice hoarse. "I saw everything, Kael. Nine lives. And now I understand. Caspian never wanted me to open the gate. He only wanted me to grow tired. He wanted me to stop choosing. Because when I stop choosing, he can take over. Just like he did in the ninth life. He was the one who shattered my soul. Not the failed ritual. Him."
Edric nodded slowly. "Now you understand. Caspian is not the Mirror God. He is the Guardian of the Mirror. His duty is to ensure that no one opens the gate, and no one closes it properly. He wants everything to remain like this—half open, half closed—so he can continue feeding on energy from both sides. From the victims who die on the altar, and from the shadows that leak into this world. For thousands of years, he has fed on this suffering. And he will not let it stop."
Rowena stood with Kaelan's help, her legs still shaky. "Then how do we stop him? How do we break this cycle without opening the gate and without sacrificing more children?"
Edric looked at her with his flickering silver eye. "There is one way. But it has never been tried. And it is risky. Perhaps more dangerous than the other two choices."
"I'm tired of safe choices," Rowena said. "Tell me."
Edric picked up the cracked bone mirror from the floor and gazed at it.
"The key you hold is not for summoning Caspian. It is for binding him. But to use it, you cannot do it alone. You need the three families. Not their blood. But their souls. Whole souls. Unbroken souls."
He looked at Rowena, then at Kaelan.
"You, Rowena, represent the de Montfort family. You carry a piece of Morana's soul inside you, along with Celine's soul and your own. Kaelan, you represent the Veyne family. And for the Ashworth family…" He paused, listening to something in the distance. "We will obtain it. But not here. Not now. Because they have already come."
From above came the sound of footsteps. Not one or two people, but dozens. And among those footsteps was another sound—something smoother, more slippery, like something crawling along the walls.
"Shadows," Kaelan whispered, drawing his sword. "They've found us."
Edric didn't look surprised. "I knew they would come. I've been hiding here too long. But before we go, take this." He handed the cracked bone mirror to Rowena. "This mirror is the only thing that can hold the memory of what you saw. Without it, you will forget again. Just like always."
Rowena took the mirror and slipped it into her pocket beside the silver key. "Now, how do we get out of here?"
Edric smiled. The smile of a man who knew he didn't have much time left. "Follow me. I've prepared an escape route. But you must move quickly. And whatever you hear, do not look back."
They ran.
Edric led them through increasingly narrow tunnels, until the brick walls gave way to earth and tree roots. Behind them, the sound of the shadows grew closer—not footsteps, but a hissing sound, like thousands of snakes slithering over stone.
Kaelan ran behind Rowena, his sword still drawn, ready to cut down anything that emerged from the darkness. At one turn, a shadow lunged from the ceiling, but Kaelan's blade was faster—his slash split the shadow in two, and it vanished with a faint shriek that made their skin crawl.
"Don't stop!" Edric shouted from ahead.
They ran through a large chamber that might once have been a secret meeting place—faint traces of ancient murals still visible on the walls, depicting robed figures kneeling before a giant mirror. But now the room was filled with shadows. Not small ones, but large shadows, almost human in shape, with glowing red eyes where faces should have been.
Edric stopped in the middle of the chamber, facing the shadows. "You two keep going straight. There's a door at the end of the corridor. I'll hold them off."
"Uncle—" Kaelan began, but Edric cut him off.
"I've lived longer than I should have, Kaelan. I've seen what should never be seen. Your task now is to protect her." He looked at Rowena with those strange silver eyes. "Don't let history repeat itself. This time, you must choose the path never taken."
He turned to face the shadows, and for the first time, Rowena saw him draw a weapon—not a sword, but a small dagger with a blade made of bone, just like the frame of the mirror he had given her.
"Go!" Edric shouted.
Kaelan grabbed Rowena's hand and they ran. Behind them, they heard the sounds of battle—clashing metal, hissing shadows, and Edric shouting in a language Rowena didn't recognize. But they didn't look back, just as they had been told.
They ran through the final corridor, up a slippery stone staircase, and finally emerged through a hole hidden behind bushes in the palace's rear garden. The cold night air greeted them, and for a moment, they could only stand there, gasping for breath, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and fear.
Underground, the sounds began to fade. And then… silence.
Kaelan stared at the hole in the bushes with a hollow expression. "My uncle…"
Rowena took his hand. "He knew the risk. He chose to protect us."
"I had just found him," Kaelan said, his voice breaking. "I had just learned he was still alive. And now…"
Rowena didn't answer with words. She simply held his hand tighter.
They stood in the palace's rear garden under the light of two moons, with the bone mirror in Rowena's pocket, the silver key on the other side, and the weight of nine lifetimes now fully remembered.
"Kael," she said at last, "I know now what I have to do. But I can't do it alone."
Kaelan looked at her, his eyes still red but steadier now. "Tell me."
"I need to gather the three families. Not their blood. But their souls. I need Duke Armand. I need you. And I need… I need Lady Mirabelle."
Kaelan looked shocked. "Lady Mirabelle? She's our enemy."
"Edric said the key isn't for summoning Caspian, but for binding him. To use it, I need representatives from all three families. I represent de Montfort. You represent Veyne. And for Ashworth… Duke Armand can represent them. But I need Lady Mirabelle for something else. She is the key to stopping the faction that wants to open the gate. Without her, Lord Devereux and his followers will keep moving."
Kaelan frowned. "Do you really think Lady Mirabelle will help us? She sent hunters after you."
"She sent hunters because she thought I was the key to opening the gate. But if I can show her there's another way—one that won't destroy everything, but also won't maintain the sacrificial system she's been benefiting from—maybe she can be convinced."
"Or maybe she'll betray you."
"Maybe. But I don't have many options. The envoys are already here. The shadows are growing stronger. Caspian grows stronger every time the gate cracks. And I can't fight all of this alone."
Kaelan was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Fine. But we'll do it my way. We won't meet her in a place she can control. We'll summon her to neutral ground, with Duke Armand as witness. And if she tries anything…" His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "I won't hesitate."
Rowena smiled faintly. "You really have no common sense, Kaelan Veyne."
"I told you. I chose not to use it."
The two of them stood under the light of two moons in the quiet rear garden of the palace, carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. And for the first time, Rowena didn't feel like that weight was too heavy to bear alone.