Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 429. Colder
The air shifted.
Colder. Tighter.
Angel's jaw worked slightly. "That's not normal."
"No," Claire added from her spot near the fireplace. "That sounds like possession magic. Or worse—a conduit."
Rose stepped closer, her voice quieter now. "You think she's just the mouthpiece for something darker?"
Jane nodded slowly. "I think so. I remember… when she looked into the mirror, she didn't chant. She didn't cast. She just… listened."
Angel sat back down, his elbows resting on his knees again, face unreadable.
"She listened. Then spoke their names. My brother's. My father's. Mine."
There was a pause.
"And the mirror responded."
Angel's voice was almost a murmur. "With dark power?"
Jane nodded. "At first gold. Then black."
Claire inhaled sharply.
"That's influence magic," she said. "Gold for suggestion. Black for full override."
Rose's skin went cold. "How long ago?"
Jane answered without hesitation. "Three years. Two months. Twelve days."
That kind of memory only came from trauma.
Rose reached for her hand again, this time firmer. "And no one believed you."
"Why would they?" Jane said bitterly. "She had already used the mirror."
Angel stood once more, pacing slowly now. "Then she's not just ambitious. She's a vessel."
He turned toward them, eyes sharp.
"This changes everything."
And it did.
Because they weren't dealing with court politics anymore.
They were dealing with something ancient. Intelligent. Hungry.
And it had already made its move through Pontus' crown.
Rose stood slowly, stepping toward Jane. She knelt slightly, bringing herself to eye level.
"Then we'll stop her," she said simply.
Jane blinked. "But—how? You're a queen. He's a king. And I—"
"You're the only person who ever saw her do it," Rose cut in. "That makes you the one voice that matters most."
Jane swallowed hard. Her chest tightened, the weight of old fear threatening to rise again.
But Rose reached out—slowly—and touched her hand.
"You're not alone anymore."
Angel nodded. "We'll find out what she's doing. We'll tear it apart from the inside. But only if you're ready."
Jane stared at them.
For years, she had trained herself not to trust anyone. Not to hope. Not to believe in rescue, or in purpose. Only survival.
But now… she felt something shift.
Not relief.
Not yet.
But maybe…
Maybe something close.
"I'm ready," she said, voice shaking. "Just… don't make me go back alone."
Rose smiled, her hand tightening around Jane's.
"You won't."
The fire still crackled softly behind them, but the conversation had shifted. The urgency was still there—pressing at the edges—but it dulled for now. Wrapped in the quiet trust of shared silence. Jane exhaled, letting her muscles relax for the first time in what felt like years.
Angel watched them both, then stood with that same fluid control that always made Jane think he was born for battlefields. He walked toward the window again, shadows slipping over his shoulders like a second cloak.
"You should rest," he said, not turning around. "We'll plan after that."
Jane blinked. "Now?"
"Yes. Later tonight or tomorrow morning. I've already spoken with Duke Cassian of Pontus. He extended a soft invitation—should we need to 'negotiate' about our alliance, we can visit."
Rose arched a brow. "Soft invitation?"
Angel smirked faintly. "Meaning—he's open to hosting us. But he's watching. And we can't walk into Pontus blindly."
Jane nodded slowly, absorbing his words. There was something oddly comforting in the way he laid it out so casually. Like even the political chessboard could be bent if he leaned on it hard enough.
Still, there was something clawing at her chest. A question she hadn't let herself ask.
Jane shifted forward, hesitant. "Your Majesty…"
Angel turned slightly, just enough to meet her eyes.
Jane hesitated. Then gathered her courage.
"Why are you helping me?"
It came out quieter than she intended. Not weak. Just honest.
Angel's gaze didn't soften. If anything, it sharpened.
"I want to know something," he said simply.
Jane tilted her head. "Something?"
Angel said nothing for a long beat.
Then, finally, he turned back toward the window.
"I need to know something," he said, almost to himself now. "About Erebus Mountain."
Jane's brows pulled together. "Erebus…?"
"That's all I can say now."
He didn't offer more.
Didn't explain what connection Erebus had to Pontus or her stepmother.
And maybe that was what unsettled Jane most.
Not the shadows.
Not the weight of royalty.
But the realization that whatever darkness waited near Erebus… even the King of Euphorion hadn't fully grasped it yet.
She stood slowly, fingers brushing her skirt. Her legs ached. Her head buzzed.
"Then… I'll rest," she said. "But I'm not running again."
Rose smiled faintly. "We wouldn't let you."
Angel didn't speak again. But he nodded once.
And somehow, that was enough.
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