The air shifted.
It was subtle, like the soft breath between prayers, but Annie felt it immediately, something delicate and powerful brushing against her awareness.
From the side of the throne room, a figure emerged from shadow and candlelight.
Selene.
Calavera's assistant. Pale and ageless. Veiled in layers of translucent silk that shimmered like starlight and mourning. Her eyes were dark, fathomless, not unlike her mistress's, but there was something softer in them. Not weaker—just gentler. Compassion wrapped in bone and silence.
She walked with grace, every step as soundless as drifting petals, until she stood before Annie and slowly lowered herself to her knees.
"May I?" she asked, her voice gentle as falling ash. Her gaze lingered on Annie's right forearm.
Annie hesitated.
Selene's hand hovered, not yet touching, but clearly drawn to the rune etched there, Leyla's mark. The very first. The origin of all the others.
Annie gave a small, wordless nod.
Selene's fingers met her skin like a whisper.
Instantly, the glyph shimmered, silver at the edges, pulsing faintly like something had just woken up.
Selene closed her eyes.
"This one…" she murmured, "it hums with potential. Raw. Undiluted. But fractured. Like it wasn't meant to be the first." She looked up at Annie. "It is trying to hold more than it should."
Malvor frowned. "What does that mean?"
Selene's eyes met his. "It means it was forced into place before its time. Leyla's magic, shadow, silence, truth hidden in fear, was never meant to open a path. Only to guard it."
She turned her attention back to the mark. "And yet it opened. And it did not break you."
Annie stared down at her arm, at the rune that had once torn her open and left her bleeding on a temple floor for days. The one that started everything. The one she had survived.
Selene's fingers glided across the edge of the glyph, so lightly it barely registered. "May I listen?"
Annie blinked. "...Listen?"
Selene gave a quiet smile. "The First Language sings, if you know how to hear it."
After a long pause, Annie nodded again.
Selene closed her eyes and leaned in, almost as though the rune itself might whisper secrets into her ear.
The room went still.
Even the candle flames stilled.
And for a heartbeat, just one—
Annie could feel it too.
A hum beneath her skin. Not painful. Not chaotic. Just… ancient. A voice she did not know she remembered, singing something wordless, buried beneath everything.
Selene drew back slowly.
She didn't speak right away.
When she did, her voice had dropped to something quieter. Almost reverent.
"She is marked by more than the gods," she said softly. "Something… older still lingers in her veins."
And Calavera, watching all along from her throne, narrowed her eyes.
But said nothing.
Calavera rose slowly from her throne.
Not walked, rose. Like a shadow stretching into its full shape.
The candlelight dimmed as she moved closer, until she stood just before Annie, eyes heavy with truth and consequence.
"I will awaken it," she said, her voice low and clear, each syllable like a bell toll. "But it will cost you."
Malvor stiffened beside Annie, their bond already pulsing with unease.
Calavera turned to Annie, studying her as if the decision were already made.
"Four days," she said. "Four days a week, and you are mine."
Malvor's power flared instantly, his shadows coiling close like a shield.
"Absolutely not," he snapped. "Pick someone else to play with."
Calavera ignored him.
"Two days of my choosing," she continued. "Two days of yours. That is the price."
Malvor turned sharply to Annie, already feeling her answer pulse through the bond.
She was going to take it.
"Annie, no," he growled, stepping in front of her. "This is not a fair trade. Don't let her put you in her collection of tragic girls and ghost brides—"
"It is not a prison," Calavera said, calm and unfazed. "It's an agreement. I will not harm her. I will simply use what she is."
"That's worse."
Annie's voice came soft, but steady. "Mal…"
"No," he bit back. "No deal."
He turned to Calavera, jaw set, fury simmering beneath his skin. "I'll split the cost."
Calavera arched a brow, amused.
"I will give you one day a month," Malvor said, "of your choosing."
He turned to Annie. "And she gives you one of hers."
"A generous gamble," Calavera murmured, circling them slowly. "But you are not the one who asked to bargain."
Malvor met her gaze. "No. But you want her marked. Awakened. You want what she is becoming."
Calavera smiled. "I do."
"Then take the offer," he said. "Two days a month. One from each of us."
Annie stepped forward, standing between them.
"I agree," she said simply. "One of yours. One of mine. Every month. That's what you get. So three days total a month including his day."
There was a long pause.
Calavera studied them both.
And then, she grinned.
It was not warm. It was not cruel.
It was pleased.
"You both amuse me," she said. "Done. One day a month, freely given by you. One day taken by me. One day bartered by him."
The room shifted. The air grew thick with finality, like an oath etched in bone.
The deal was sealed.
And the glyphs?
They began to stir.