7:30 a.m. Tuesday — Violet's Moon Cottage
"Do I know you?" Gwen blinked at the man before her.
"You speak to the girl but not your own brother?" Hildwulf's irritation came sharp and immediate.
William barely heard him. He crossed the room in a blink and wrapped Gwen in a hug that nearly lifted her off her feet.
"My dear girl, don't you recognize me? It's William." His eyes shone wet as he stepped back.
Gwen froze, hands raised, glancing helplessly toward Hildwulf and Violet.
"Who's William?" Hildwulf shoved his brother's shoulder. "Your name is Hildyard."
"I haven't gone by Hildyard in a hundred years." William shoved back.
"I refuse to call you by some mortal alias. Our mother named you Hildyard and Hildyard you are!" Hildwulf stomped the floor like a child.
"Being born two minutes first doesn't give you naming rights, brother. In the mortal realm 'Hildyard' doesn't exactly blend in."
"Makes sense you'd abandon our name the way you abandoned your home."
"I left so you would live. Had I stayed, the Council would've executed you for my crimes!"
"I can take care of myself—that's why I'm Wulf!" Hildwulf's anger flared again.
"Mom only called you Wulf because you whined like a pup for her titee." William's grin broke through.
Hildwulf snorted, the tension cracking. "Well, I was fond of titee. No lie there."
Laughter filled the shop, small but real—the sound of two old hearts remembering they were still brothers.
Violet smiled at them both, though her eyes lingered longest on William. She handed him the finished homestead stone in a soft blue drawstring bag.
"I'll be upstairs if you need me. You three have centuries to unpack." She kissed William's cheek and started up the spiral stair.
"Only a Hildyard would tempt those fires," Hildwulf muttered with a half-grin.
"Or survive them," William answered quietly, turning the warm kiss over in his mind.
Once Violet was gone, William dragged a chair near the door that led back to the mortal realm. He set it for Gwen. If things between the brothers turned violent, he needed a path to flee—he would not raise his hand against family.
"It's a long story," he sighed. "Let me fill in the gaps."
---
3 p.m. Monday — Somewhere under the city
Jane lay curled in the corner of her cell. Fever burned through her; the stone floor was the only cool mercy against the bruises and swelling that hid her face. A roach crawled across her cheek—she snatched it, chewed, swallowed. Protein was life.
Footsteps. Then that familiar suffocating pressure—his presence. The glyphs on the door glowed violet and faded. The ward was down.
Two Shadow Demons entered first. Their master followed, his face still shrouded in living dark.
"Now, Miss Moiria," the Master's voice echoed with a metallic reverb, each word doubling itself inside her skull, "are you ready to tell me what I wish to know?"
"I can't help you," Jane coughed, blood streaking her lip. "I see futures—never presents or pasts."
A nod, and one Demon drove a slick tentacle into her ear. The world exploded white. When it withdrew, she was screaming, blood spattering the floor.
"Can you hear me now, Jane?" He leaned close. "Perhaps I should let him dissolve something more personal." The tentacle slid down her body.
"Wait—please—no!" She choked on fear.
"Tell me what I want, and it ends."
"I told you—without the three of us together the visions fracture! You'd need all three Fates to—"
He raised a hand; the Demon turned her to face it. Features formed out of shadow: nose, mouth, eyes—her brother Scott's eyes. Jane's mind shattered.
He had killed her brothers and bent their souls into Demons so he could feed from their power. Jane suddenly realized why she was left alive. Yes three Fates where needed to control the vision, but only one of those Fates need to have free will.
"You see, Jane," the Master whispered, "the three of you are already here."
Defeat crashed over her. "If I help you," she gasped, "you'll spare them?"
Master chuckled knowing he had broken her. With a nod the Demon tossed Jane backwards to the cold unforgiving floor.
"I'll let you rest. For now."
A flash of white erased her world.
---
4:30 p.m. — Detective Stone's Office
Stone sat in silence beneath the buzz of a dying fluorescent light, flipping through autopsy reports.
Smoke inhalation. Structural collapse. Falling debris. Every death was neatly mundane, and that was precisely how he needed it.
[No mention of magic. Good. The Council won't interfere yet.]
His phone burst to life with the Imperial March—Bradwell's idea of a joke.
"Officer Cain," he answered. "You and the others safe?"
"For now, sir. Checking in."
"I'm working on the official report for the hospital. What's Ms. Greene's status?"
"Still out cold. The Dragon Spirit says her body's fine, mind's just … gone."
Stone closed his eyes. Not a coma. A separation. The Veil again.
"Jacob," he said after a pause, "you still have that stone Keychain I gave you when you graduated the academy?"
"Yes sir, my keys are on it now."
"keep it on you. It's a one-use blink portal. Too small for people, however enough for what I'm sending."
He ended the call and leaned back, studying and open velvet box which held A Veil Guard Ring. Smooth onyx band etched with moving silver runes that shifted like stars behind clouds. A ring meant for Blessed warriors only—men and women chosen to defend both realms without question.
Granting one to an Afflicted was unheard of. Unforgivable to some. But Stone had seen Jacob's soul —half-mortal, half-tainted, yet honest. The boy had the one thing most Blessed lacked: humility.
Rules preserve order, he thought. Mercy preserves balance.
He stood, closing the small velvet box, while sliding it into his pocket.
"If the Council won't bend, I will." His voice was barely a whisper.
For a moment his reflection in the dark window shifted—not a detective in a rumpled coat, but something older, taller, a warrior with golden eyes.
Then it was gone.
---
End of Chapter 20