Arik wanted it to be the end of it.
The memory had already given him enough.
The portrait chamber. The mate's chain hidden in the cabinet. Kamal's disapproval. Goliath's calm certainty that age would turn Felix's hunger into embarrassment if only enough time passed. Arik understood the mistake now. He understood the arrogance of mercy given to the wrong man and the danger of looking at fury and naming it youth because the alternative was admitting hunger had teeth.
He tried to step back.
The portrait did not let him.
The halo flared.
The suite bent around him, its walls pulling thin, dead ether-blooms flickering behind glass, and the burned transport ward beneath his boots crawling with old light.
"No," Arik said.
The portrait smiled… though him.
