10. Syneca
Syneca
To deal with a haunted mirror, turn it to face another mirror. They will argue with each other and forget about you entirely.
Today, the dining hall was too grand for five people eating in silence. Yesterday it’d been smaller, more intimate, but the magic of the manor had shifted it, putting far more space than necessary between each of us.
Vaulted ceilings. A table that could seat twenty stretched between walls lined with portraits. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, their light catching on silver platters laden with too much food.
We still sat clustered on one side of the giant room for breakfast. Eggs and toast. Steaming sausages and some kind of white mushy stuff in bowls.
Pastries that steamed when broken open. Fruit stacked in towers, each piece perfect and gleaming.
The smell alone made my stomach clench with want despite the tension sitting heavy in my chest.
Music played from somewhere. No instruments. No musicians. Just a melody that wove through the room like it was alive. I pushed food around my plate and tried not to watch Silas.
Tried and failed.
He sat at the head of the table, perfectly composed, eating like this was just another morning instead of the day I’d learn exactly who or what I’d be hunting here in the Underworld. When he reached for the candelabra in the center of the table, I held my breath.
No more candles.
Please, no more candles.
He didn’t look at me. Just waved his hand, and every one flared to life at once.
Bastard.
A pointed reminder of yesterday. Of all my failures and the fire I couldn’t control.
Across from me, Pip picked at a pastry. She’d been quiet since we sat down. Everyone had.
Lore stabbed at her food with more force than necessary, her chair creaking every time she moved. Her eyes kept darting to Dez, who sat beside her appearing far too relaxed.
“We shouldn’t do this,” Lore said finally, breaking the silence. “Having her come here once was already a foolish risk. Bringing her back to Kiamond for this is insanity.”
Dez set down his fork. “It’s her choice.”
Lore’s voice was hard. “Her choice is reckless. She could write a damn note. Send a message. Anything but coming here herself.”
“Lore.” Silas didn’t raise his voice.“We’ve been over this.”
She turned on him, and I’d never seen her angry before.
It was terrifying and magnificent at once.
“Have we? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re sending Dez to fetch a Fury who broadcasts power like a fucking lighthouse.
She’s a beacon for every demon strong enough to sense her, just like—” Her eyes flicked to me briefly.
“Just like our other problem. Sorry, Syneca. But it needs to be said.”
“I agree,” I said, backing up the only person in the room that was being logical.
“Celeste knows the risks,” Silas argued.
Lore’s fork clattered against her plate. “Does she? Or is she so desperate that she’s willing to walk into Kiamond and announce herself to the entire Underworld?”
“I’ll shield her,” Dez said calmly. “Same as before.”
“And what happens when your shield slips? When someone notices the Fury who’s supposed to be dead is miraculously back?” Lore leaned forward. “What happens to all of us when the princes find out Silas has been hiding her for centuries?”
The music didn’t stutter this time. It stopped entirely.
Silas’s expression went carefully blank. “That won’t happen.”
“You don’t know that.” Lore stood, her chair scraping back.
“She could send a message. One note explaining what she needs. But no! She insists on coming herself, on having this conversation in person like the veil isn’t barely holding.
Like bringing her here isn’t the most dangerous thing we could possibly do. ”
“She wants to meet Syneca face to face,” Silas said quietly. “To explain the debt herself.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why does it matter if she tells me in person or writes it down?”
Silas finally acknowledged me, meeting my eyes.
“Because Celeste doesn’t trust words on paper.
Not for something this important. She needs to see your face when she tells you what you owe.
Needs to know you understand. And I think she’s hoping you’ll see her desperation.
She wouldn’t have made that life debt casually. She values life more than anything.”
“It’s foolish,” Lore said flatly. “And she damn well knows it.”
Dez pushed his chair back, standing. “She’s not changing her mind. I already tried.” He looked at Lore with something soft in his expression. “We’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Your promises don’t mean much if you’re dead.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m very hard to kill.” He flashed that grin again. “Besides, someone has to make sure the Fury doesn’t get lost on the way here.”
Lore glared at him. Then turned and stalked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Silas asked.
“To prepare,” she said without turning around. “Since apparently we’re doing monumentally stupid things today, I might as well make sure we survive them.”
The door slammed behind her.
Dez sighed, picking up one of the pastries and taking a bite. “She’ll forgive us.”
“Will she?” Pip asked quietly.
“Eventually.” He brushed crumbs from his hands. “Alright. Let’s get this over with before she comes back and tries to stop me again.”
He looked at Silas. Something passed between them. Then Dez walked to the bookshelf that lined the far wall, pulled a specific tome, and disappeared into pages that swung open like a door.
The room felt colder without him in it.
“Eat,” Silas said, moving to the window to watch the street below. “You’ll need your strength.”
“For what?”
“This is only the beginning, Ith Noem,” he said, those ancient words rolling through his accent as if he had no idea he’d just spoken in a language we didn’t share.
The music played on. Beautiful and haunting and entirely wrong for a morning that felt like the beginning of a transition I wasn’t sure if I was ready for.
I picked up my fork. Forced myself to eat something that tasted like nothing despite being perfectly prepared in a world where every indulgence was sinful and divine.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
Silas remained at the window. Pip eventually abandoned her pastry and flew to perch on the chandelier, wings tucked tight.
I pushed food around my plate and tried not to think about debts I couldn’t pay and Furies who could kill me with a gesture.
“Come,” Silas said finally, turning from the window. “It’s time.”
He didn’t wait to see if I’d follow. Just walked out of the dining hall toward the study.
Pip flew down, landing on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, but her wings trembled.
I stood and followed Silas through corridors that seemed longer than they had yesterday. The study door stood open, and when I stepped inside, the room felt too big. Silas positioned himself near the center. Not sitting. Just waiting.
The air shifted before I heard anything.
A subtle change in pressure that raised the hair on my arms. Then a book on the shelf flew to the ceiling, and opened, the pages glowing as they fanned open.
Dez dropped through, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something sharper.
More focused. A cloaked figure held his arm.
The second they cleared the threshold, Dez waved his hand. Magic poured from him in a ripple, wrapping around the manor like a blanket.
“We need to do this quickly,” he said, voice tight. “I can’t hold the shield and hide her presence for long.”
“Thank you, dear,” the woman said, patting his arm before she reached up and pulled back her hood.
I stopped breathing.
She was stunning in the same way Aureth had been stunning.
Her beauty felt ancient, earned through centuries instead of years.
Long blonde hair fell past her shoulders, catching light that didn’t exist in the dim study.
Perfect features that would have looked carved if not for the exhaustion around her eyes.
Celeste.
A Fury.
A Fury who was supposed to be dead.
Silas moved. Subtle but deliberately positioning himself between her and me. Always between me and danger, even when the danger wore a kind face. Even when he’d been so mean in the exact same spot yesterday.
Celeste’s voice was soft and warm despite the chill in the room. “Syneca Talmyrien. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“I didn’t agree,” I said.
She smiled and she stepped toward me. “No. I suppose you didn’t. But you’re here anyway, which is what matters.”
Pip flew behind the desk lamp, trying to make herself smaller.
The Fury continued. “I saved your life. And now you owe me one in return. That’s how life debts work in the Underworld. I give. You give back. And that’s what we agreed upon. I’m sure you remember.”
My breaths felt unsteady as I waited for her to unveil my fate. “Who do you want me to find?”
“My bonded, Lyric. He was taken from me centuries ago.”
She held out her wrist. Even in the dim light, I could see the mark there. Faded and pale. Like a scar that had almost healed but couldn’t quite finish.
“This is what remains of our Fyrian bond,” she said quietly. “It’s dying. Which I believe means he’s dying. And if he dies…” Her voice broke slightly. “I’m afraid I’ll die with him. Or maybe I’ll wish for that fate.”
I could hear my own heartbeat, hear Lore’s sharp intake of breath from where she stood by the door. I knew what a Fury’s bonded was. Her Guardian. Her dragon. But this desperation in her voice was more. It was torment. And a wish.
The fourth Fury’s dragon had been taken to Fuerlis when the Sisters escaped the Underworld. Everyone knew that story. The legend. History carved into the foundation of our world.
And now this Fury, who was also legendary in death, was telling me her dragon was still there. Still alive after centuries. Still suffering.