Sylthris hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of the pomegranate. The juice stained her lips a deep crimson as she spoke. “Interesting. And tell me, Aric, what do you think of this weapon? Of its potential impact on the war?” Her tone was conversational, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

Aric felt like he was walking a tightrope, each word potentially sealing his fate.

“Honestly?” Aric asked. “I think it’s a dangerous escalation. This weapon . . . it has the potential to cause unprecedented destruction. On both sides. It has already shown its potential to do so, and I fear it will only get worse from here. I’ve always believed that understanding our enemies is key to ending this war. But this . . . this could annihilate everything. Demon and human alike.”

Sylthris’s stare was unwavering. “And what do you think should be done with it, then?”

Aric tried to think past the pain in his skull. He needed to convince her that the weapon was too dangerous to use, that it would only bring more suffering to both sides of the conflict. “It should be destroyed. The research halted. No good can come of pursuing this path.”

Sylthris considered his words, a small frown creasing her forehead.

“If only it were that simple,” she said at last. She looked back at Aric, her expression serious. “What if I were to tell you that there might be a way to prevent such destruction? To find a different path?”

Aric’s heart skipped a beat, and he studied her carefully, trying to determine if she was sincere. She was an enigma, her true loyalties and motivations a mystery even to those who knew her best. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of . . . something. Was it respect? Understanding?

“I might say that such a thing is too good to be true,” Aric said carefully.

Sylthris’s lips curved into a smile, and she leaned closer to the bars of the cell, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper.

“Good. Then you’re cleverer than you look.”

Aric lifted one eyebrow.

“But . . . indulge me.” She gestured with the pomegranate, a single seed scattering across the stone floor into his cell. “If such a thing were true indeed.”

“If such an opportunity existed,” Aric said slowly, “I would do everything in my power to seize it. For the sake of both our realms.”

Sylthris’s eyes glinted with amusement. “A noble sentiment. But why should I believe you would follow through?”

It was a fair question, and Aric knew he had to choose his next words carefully. “I’ve seen enough death and destruction to last several lifetimes,” Aric said. “If there’s a chance for something different . . . I’d take it.”

Sylthris studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled—a small, enigmatic quirk of her lips.

“How very interesting,” she murmured. She stood in one fluid motion, tossing the pomegranate remains aside. “Rest well, Aric Solarian. I suspect you’ll need your strength in the days to come.”

With that cryptic statement, she glided away, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts and a glimmer of hope he hardly dared to nurture.

Exhausted by the intensity of the exchange with Vizra and the constant strain of his captivity, Aric drifted into fitful sleep. But no sooner had he closed his eyes than he found himself in a shadowy realm, formless and shifting.

“Aric.”

The voice echoed all around him, reverberating through the darkness. His name on those lips sounded like a caress, like a promise. He searched the shifting shadows, his heart pounding, until he saw a figure emerging from the darkness—a figure he knew all too well.

Aric’s voice sounded small and insignificant in the vast darkness, but the figure turned towards him, his eyes twin points of light in the void. He began to move towards Aric, each step sending ripples through the inky blackness, like the surface of a lake.

“Aric, my star in the darkness. Come to me.”

The figure’s voice was like a siren’s song, coaxing Aric forward. He stumbled through the shifting darkness, the cold seeping into his bones, but with each step towards Malekith, a warmth blossomed in his chest.

Only a few feet separated them now, but the space between them stretched on impossibly. Aric reached out a hand, his fingers trembling, and after an eternity that might have lasted only the span of a heartbeat, his fingers brushed against the cool silk of Malekith’s robes.

“Aric.” Malekith’s fingers closed around Aric’s hand, and the darkness around them shattered like glass, scattering into a million shards of light. They stood together in a blinding, golden expanse, the air thick with the scent of burning ozone. Malekith’s eyes were twin points of molten gold, and his skin glowed with an otherworldly light.

“You need to listen to me.” Malekith’s voice was urgent, a distant rumble like a storm on the horizon. “I’m doing everything I can to free you, but I must be careful. The Sovereign’s eyes are everywhere.”

Aric’s voice was a whisper, the words dissolving like ash on his tongue as he tried to speak.

“Shh.” Malekith’s thumb brushed over Aric’s knuckles, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “I know you’re in pain, but you must hold on. Trust in me, and we will find a way through this.”

Aric’s vision was blurring, the golden landscape fading in and out of focus. I do trust you. He tried to speak it, even though the words would not come. The tears were hot on his cheeks, his face a mask of fire and pain. But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

Malekith’s expression softened, and he cradled Aric’s face in his free hand. The touch of his skin was searing, like the kiss of a branding iron, but Aric leaned into it, savoring the pain.

“You are stronger than you know. My beacon of hope.” Malekith’s voice was a prayer, a benediction. “I will find a way to you. I swear it on my very soul.”

The darkness was closing in around them, the shards of light fading to embers. Aric’s hand was slipping from Malekith’s, his body dissolving like sand in the wind.

“Malekith, please⁠—”

“Trust in me.”

Aric whispered the words, though he knew he wasn’t making a sound.

I trust you.

He shoved the words forward, toward the shadowy figure that he knew was crouching before him, though he could not see his face. He pushed them with all his might, willing them to reach their target.

I trust you.

The words left him, and he felt himself scattering, the dream fading away. But the figure’s hand was still on his face, and Aric clung to that touch, the heat of it searing his skin.

“Trust in me,” the figure echoed, his voice still that urgent rumble. And then the dream shattered, and Aric was alone in the darkness.

Rough hands yanked Aric from the darkness, shattering the lingering echoes of the dream. He gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as he was hauled to his feet. The world swam before his eyes, the cold stone of the cell floor giving way to the heat of the demon guards who towered over him.

“Stop, I beg you, please, you must listen⁠—”

A roar filled his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own voice, raw and desperate. His arms flailed as he tried to break free, but the guards’ grip was like iron. Cold voidfire wrapped around him, and he screamed as it ate into his skin, burned and twisted⁠—

And then it was gone, a fleeting memory, leaving behind only the scent of charred flesh and the guards looking more than a little unsettled. But they didn’t release their hold on him, and for that, Aric was almost grateful.

The guards flanked him as they dragged him from the cells, the fortress looming around them. He tried to take in every detail, every twist and turn of the mazelike corridors, but he was disoriented, the world tilting and spinning.

“Where are you taking me?” he managed to croak.