We didn't speak of what we saw in the crypt.
Not that night. Not the next day.
The moment we stepped out of the Dorne estate's depths, something unspoken settled between us. Not fear—something colder.
Truth.
The kind you couldn't deny once you'd touched it.
Felix helped bury what was left of his father's ledger in the swamp. Not a ceremony. Just a quiet, tired act. A child laying to rest the debts of a house too proud to admit it had drowned long ago.
I watched from the porch. Cassandra stood beside me, arms folded. The morning mist clung to her like a second skin.
"You didn't strike it when it showed you your past," she said without looking at me.
"No," I answered.
"Because it wasn't a lie?"
"No," I repeated, softer this time.
She nodded. "Good."
"…Good?"
"If you believed the lie, we'd all be dead."
Right. Encouraging as ever.
