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“I need to ask a favor,” I say, the decision crystallizing as I speak. “Something that might go against Aurora protocols.”

Wariness enters his expression. “That didn’t take long.”

“I need access to the Shard.”

His eyes widen. “Lila—”

“Not to use it against anyone,” I clarify quickly. “To understand it. To connect with it on my terms, not the Syndicate’s. There are memories in it, Hargen. History. My history.”

“Viktor will—”

“Viktor doesn’t have a say in this.” I lean closer. “We’re talking about my birthright. My bloodline’s connection to an artifact they’ve locked away like it’s just another weapon. I need to understand what it is, what it means, before they try to use me to use it.”

Conflict wars in his expression. “It’s dangerous. Especially after what you did to save me. Your system is still recovering.”

“Which is why I need you there,” I press. “You can buffer me like you always have, just… as family this time. Not a handler.”

The distinction matters. To both of us.

He studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

“Have you ever succeeded before?”

A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. “Fair enough.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Against my better judgment.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, moving carefully but with more strength than I expected. “But if we’re doing this, we do it my way. I’ll be there to pull you back if you go too deep.”

“Deal.”

“I heard them talking about it when we got here. The vault’s deep, three levels down,” he says, pulling on a sweater hanging by the bed. “Security’s tight.”

“Let me worry about that.” I’ve learned a thing or two about navigating restricted spaces.

The journey through the Outpost’s corridors is uneventful. The few people we encounter smile and nod but don’t stop us as I follow a pull that seems to come from within.

Come, Lila…

The call is irresistible. Even if Hargen hadn’t come with me, I’d be finding my way down here.

The vault level feels different, colder, the air heavy with protective wards that prickle against my skin. Rossewyn blood recognizes magic designed to contain it.

“There.” Hargen points to a reinforced door at the corridor’s end. “Triple-shielded, Viktor said. Magical and technological barriers.”

I approach slowly, palm outstretched, feeling the defenses like a physical presence. Complex, layered, but familiar somehow. The magical signature carries echoes of patterns I know intimately.

“These wards,” I murmur, tracing invisible currents in the air, “they’re like the ones at the Syndicate facility. Similar construction.”

“Aurora and the Syndicate share origins,” Hargen says quietly. “At the end of the day, they’re all dragons.”

I close my eyes and press my palms flat against the cool metal, feeling the barriers resist, then soften as they recognize my blood.

“What are you doing?” Hargen asks, tension evident in his voice.

“Introducing myself.” I push harder, not with physical strength but with magical intent. “These defenses were designed to keep the Shard contained, but also to allow access to those with the right… key.”

Something clicks, both physically and magically. The door slides open with barely a sound.

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