The cavern's echoic quiet soon filtered out the noise from behind. It settled Raya's thoughts somewhat, pulling in their spiral until her original goal sprang to mind. Kyril made a sound like he was about to speak, but the words were already pulling from her mouth, brittle and slender as a needle point: "Where's Corvin?"

Kyril's half-laugh put a break in his step. Face turned away from her, he hummed to himself, fingers flicking a rhythmic pattern against his palm. "Corvi is where he belongs now." He cut her a darker glance. "He was not yours to keep."

"So he's yours?" The final word stuck to her tongue. Something wriggled along her spine.

The sensation doubled when Kyril stopped suddenly, nearly causing her to trip. The tips of his ears bent. His gaze remained fixated on the unseen end of the tunnel, drenched by the muzzy shadows. "Of course." In contrast, his voice was casual, short yet determinedly cheerful. "He always has been."

Raya's fingers shifted, curled against one another, creaking along with the tension in her bones. She couldn't shake the thought of Corvin gazing out of her window—the bright sadness in his eyes, the restless itch that consumed him, the curl of fear that strayed his gaze. She nodded stiffly, fighting the cold rise of unease. "I understand." Her smile hurt. "I would still like to see him."

Kyril's hooked nose and silvery freckles were backlit by the green lights when he inclined his head. "Why do you ask for him with such desperation?"

Desperation was not what she wanted to show. She fought to coil herself inward, holding steady. "I owe much to him," she said, carefully. "I simply want to know he hasn't found trouble."

He sniffed, a half-chuckle that died out fast. "No trouble will find my Corvi here." Balanced on one heel, he spun back to face her, wearing a grin much too sharp to soften the reflective, midnight glint in his gaze. "I think you owe him your distance."

The growl that laced those words might've been imagined, but either way, Raya's feet shifted back of their own accord.

He followed, unperturbed. An emerald sheen slid over the claw he lifted to point, just gently, at her chest: two slow jabs in rhythm with his speech. "You," he mused, "you are curious. You are what I want to talk about."

Raya's mouth was suddenly drier than the sand-covered rock at her feet. She swallowed hard. "There isn't much to say. I don't matter." Her tongue was weakening, though she'd moistened it over and over. "But Corvin—"

"Why is this worry for Corvin?" His head cocked, ears curling crookedly, face cut into by the dense shadows. "You are far from your home, Raya. I worry for you."

His claw trailed downward as his thoughts drifted, eyes picking her apart, until he seized her wrist in a surge of movement and yanked. She inhaled and bit into her lip, forcing stillness while her veins buzzed with clamorous fear. The touch of Kyril's claws was light, prodding at the softer parts of her wrist. He tilted up her hand and lowered his face. His nose twitched, close to brushing up against the shimmering indigo jewel inlaid into one of her rings.

He tapped at it, then slid the ring free, releasing her hand as he did so. He held it up close to his face with dark fascination washing through his gaze. "Your home is comfortable. Do you not miss your comforts?"

The skin on Raya's fingers prickled as she edged them back towards her. The smooth, cold click of her remaining rings rattled in her ears, a sound she could no longer ignore—she found herself bristling, shoving back the urge to rip the jewellery from her fingers and kick them far, far out of sight. Her forehead itched. Her back felt cold and barren as she lifted her head, uneven strands of hair itching at her chin.

"I left my home of my own accord. There's nothing to miss." Her voice tasted of iron, hard and unbreakable and rusting underneath. "I came here because I wanted to."

Kyril hummed. "Why?"

"I told you why," she bit.

His eyes snapped to her, imbued with a sudden focus. He flicked the ring aside. It hit the floor with a barely-audible clink. "You throw away your life. You come here to die for someone who is not yours." His ears flattened, his eyes harsh and defensive, short fangs purring with what could only be anger.

Her heart gave a little jolt, shrinking into her chest, but she paid it no heed. The flute was in her hand. She drew it out and thrust it between them, letting the light slide over its every smooth, hand-carved imperfection. His focus snatched at it with immediate, silent hunger; she gripped it tighter but kept it frozen midway between them.

"I didn't come to die." She drew in a slow, unsteady breath, voice creaking like rotting wood. "Corvin asked me to come with him, and I made a mistake in saying no."

Kyril's fingers wandered forward, wavering in the air before the flute before hesitantly retracting. His expression, though clear and emphasised before, was suddenly hard to read. "You wish to stay here." The words rolled.

She pulled the flute back to her chest, crossed over her heart, nearly too breathless to speak. "I do."

Thick silence pooled between them. It squeezed her chest and filled her head with indecipherable noise, none of which shrank away even when Kyril broke the quiet with a chuckle. It stretched into a laugh, low and meandering, and suddenly his cheerful grin and pricked-up ears were back. He swung around, tapping her tensed bicep as he did so. "Keep walking."

For a few beats, she watched his tail sweep the view of his tapping bare feet. It took a slow, deep breath before she could make herself follow.

If he noticed her hesitance, he didn't stop his flow to acknowledge it. His steps were a dance and a twirl, his arm spread broad in a grand gesture his tone rose to meet. "I have a vision." As the cavern darkened around them, the spark in his eyes became more star-like, distant and otherworldly in its pinprick light. "It has taken time to build this place. My past life was only for living, for dark, empty days—blood and fear and hunger. You see?"

A shiver skated Raya's spine. "I can only imagine."

He stopped again, so abruptly she stumbled. He watched her with keen intent. "No," he said, bluntly. "You cannot imagine." His smile spawned again, slow and sweet as honey. "But I saw more, and so I made this place."

He left a pause, dangled like bait. "You envisioned a family?" she ventured.

He exhaled through his nose. "A family is nothing if it is not safe. No." She scented his breath as he leaned in close. Balanced on his toes, his nose was just high enough to tickle her chin, and though she held steady she couldn't help the shudder that webbed her skin and wrapped her throat in a vice.

His nose was cold and traced a line sideways until, with his face tilted towards her ear, he spoke again in a whisper. "That home you ran away from?" Even hushed, the smile in his voice rang clear as day. "I want to tear it apart."

White, crinkling paper crept over Raya's thoughts, blanking them out one by one. Old fears formed the ink that stained it, spilled from a lifetime of old whispers she'd wanted to encase in glass and never study again. She could only stare, vision tunnelling, and wait for the horrid words to fade into imagination.

But Kyril was more than real, and so was his voice, dripping with delight and pictures of destruction. "Your city's power is fragile, and it does not deserve to stand." His hand curled over her arm to maintain his balance, scratching at her cloak. "I see a better world built on the ruins. I see your river filled with ash and blood, and your mages on their knees, begging for—"

She shoved him; some shaky ghost of an instinct kicked in, begging she squirm and struggle until he stopped touching her. Even with distance forced between them, nausea crawled up her throat. With great effort, she shook her head, hand drifting to her dagger's hilt.

Even through the frown that sank into place, Kyril's grin poked. Head cocked, he lingered, eyes and teeth flashing emerald. "Why not? You hate it like I do."

"I don't—" Her voice died on her, dropping away like a floor caved in beneath her feet. She breathed in and out, fast, eyes stinging.

"I am willing." His tail flicked, its relaxed poise eerie when images of ruin still filled the darkness behind his gaze. "A new life for you, yes? You can help me destroy what you do not want. I would like to have you with me—me and my Corvi and the fallen mage."

He giggled too lightly, too easily. He'd been calm until now—strange, but cool and collected, clearly intelligent. That laugh rang with real madness.

It was enough for Raya to scrape up her confidence. She shook her head again, this time with purpose, conscious of the flute's rougher edges cutting into her palm. "I can't help you destroy anything. Not my family—"

She barely felt herself move, not until her back slammed against the cavern wall and a slender knee jabbed into her middle, grating her spine on cold stone. A blade grazed her chin. Its off-white sheen leered at her; the missing weight of her dagger hit her in an icy wash, nipping the last of the air from her lungs. Clutching the stolen weapon, the feathered beastfolk sneered, frost-licked wings beating at her back in fast, eager motions.

Half-obscured by the fluttering feathers, Kyril showed no sign of surprise. His clasped hands gave him a degree of polite innocence, his expression relaxed and furry ears uneven, none of which matched the sinister claws curled around Raya's heart. "You left your family." He sounded almost confused. "Do they protect you?"

The question was coarse. It brought to mind Hariq's crackling accusation as Zayd's spear pointed her way; it dragged her mother's glare to the forefront of her thoughts, ringed with doubt and disappointment. The gap her father left in her memories felt abyssal. Chest so tight she feared she was drowning, she flicked a glance at the hazy, unclear reflection of herself in the dagger's face, thinking of Yasmin's tears. Family was a cage. They only hated and feared what Raya had become now—they wouldn't protect this dirty, feral girl, even pinned beneath a knife in a nest of beasts. Her heart ached, crumpling beneath her ribs.

She'd changed. She'd chosen already and she wanted so badly for that to be enough, yet she was still painfully, horribly scared.

The seconds ticked on, but she couldn't eke out a reply. The winged beastfolk's snarl crawled frost over Raya's bones, so intense she hardly noticed the dagger tilt until it began to sting. "Please," she choked out, throat rasping.

"You choose." She could hear nothing but threat in Kyril's voice now. "Choose us and I will be fair."

I want to, she thought, but the echo of it was forced and all wrong. Louder was the voice that begged, I don't want anyone to get hurt.

Louder still was the pitiful, shrivelled whisper: I don't want to fight.

Kyril might as well have had his ear to her heart, listening in on those private pleas. "I do not want to hurt you," he said, words much too neat. "Please, Raya, choose right."

She could barely shake her head, but somehow she managed to.

His eyes grew narrow as he advanced further, nudging his companion's wing aside to properly hold her gaze. "Think."

The cavern's darkness was closing in. Its quiet hit her in a rush. "Amina," she said in line with the sudden, frenzied pounce of the thought. "What have you done to—"

The flat of the blade pressed into her throat, cutting her off. "She should die," her winged captor hissed through thin fangs, tone like a razor. She spat at Raya's feet, grinning through her rage.

Kyril placed a firm hand on her arm and the dagger's pressure lessened. "Vipra, be civil." His smile was not enticing anymore; Raya shrank from it, wishing they could both look at her with simple, predictable anger. "Amina is not wise like you might be. I am being kind by giving you one last chance." Up this close and properly lit by the dangling plants above, the sparks in his eyes were as unnatural as the spark of dust, enough that she couldn't look away. A wrongness twisted in her chest.

"I can make us both strong," he said, "if you trust me."

Her vision blurred, the tears hot and sharp as claws. Where was Corvin? Did he want this too: her family dead, her world reduced to ruin? "Please." Her voice cracked at every edge. "Don't be a villain."

His smile vanished, his lip curling, and she knew her chance was up. A growl rumbled in his throat. "I am not a villain." For a sliver of a moment, she thought he would act on his word and truly tear her apart, but instead he turned his back on her. The shadows claimed him as her heart's thrum nearly drowned out the last words she heard. "Vipra, take her."

Hopelessness seized her all at once. A numb feeling raced from the sting at her throat to the tips of her fingers, sealing the pain beneath thick glass. Vipra shoved her side, and she let her feet move as they wanted to, eyes watching them shift in steps and stumbles as if they were no longer hers. She should've fought, but she was not that strong, and this was her choice. It was only right she remained good and obedient as she walked to her death.

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