Though I barely knew what I was saying, words tumbled from my lips. "Isalio, stay with me, please. Isa, please stay—"

"I'm trying, Rem," he replied. "But I don't know if—" His face contorted into a snarl, and a different voice interrupted. "He's not here. But I'm here, and I'll listen to you, sweet Remgar. I'll listen to everything you say."

Icy dread shot through my veins. Suddenly the Duchess's plan felt like a stone flung against a mountain, and even my father's death was just a shallow tributary into the river of despair I saw ahead. If this were a true enemy, I would be scrambling for my mace, but this was Isalio himself, so my only defense was a pathetically desperate growl.

"You can't take him from me."

"Oh, but I can." The words came from Isalio, but his eyes and his voice were both terrifyingly different from the Isalio I knew. "I gave you a chance to join me, but you refused, and now..." He tsked. "Now it's too late. Now I'll take him from you, and then I'll take the rest of the world."

"You would have done it already, if you could." They were bold words—too bold, perhaps—but with each second that this not-Isalio didn't attack me, I grew more confident that I was right. "Isalio was your best weapon, but he's much harder to control than you thought he would be. He's still fighting you, even now."

Isalio's features contorted, and for a second, I saw true cognition in his gaze. "Rem, I'm not—it's too—I don't know if I can—" Then his eyes sharpened—deadened. "Still fighting, ha! I'm an ancient monster of destruction. You really think this mere mortal is any match for me?"

I shook my head. "He's not a match for you. He's a match for me. And you can't have him."

Then I grabbed his shoulders and tugged him toward me so his chest pressed up against mine. He was shivering, though his skin burned hot—hot enough that every point of contact felt like shoving my hand into boiling water. But I clutched him to me even tighter and focused on pulling lifeforce from the ground to send to him. And even though his entire being reeked of the Morgabeast, I could feel his own power reaching back.

Once again, our powers merged into a bright swirl of color.

For a moment, the tornado drowned out everything else. When my vision cleared, I was in a room in the Palace, though I wasn't quite sure how I knew that since this looked nothing like any palace room I had seen. Weak rays of sunshine peeked through the barred windows, illuminating spiderwebs and dusty, unused furniture. Crusted black fabric covered the paintings on the wall.

A black-haired teenage Demon boy crept toward a doorway, brown moss crunching beneath his feet. I knew the boy was Isalio even though he looked nothing like the graceful and lethal Lord of the Night; his hair was shorter and unevenly cut as though hacked away at a whim without a mirror, and his gangly limbs moved with the awkwardness of a growing boy who hadn't yet adjusted to his own height.

He stopped just outside the door and pressed his ear to the wood, listening to the voices on the other side.

Then I slipped deeper into the dreamworld, and I could smell the molding furniture and dead moss, could feel the rough wood of the door against my ear, and could hear the voices in the room beyond.

"You know I'm stronger than you," said the Queen—my mother.

My father scoffed. "I know your throne is a few inches higher than mine. I know you Snapped earlier than I did, and you've killed more Guardians than I have. I know you were once hailed as the most powerful Demon seen in decades. You had so much promise. But you've become soft."

She inhaled sharply, almost a sob. "I'm not soft."

"The General believed he could help our one asset to Snap, and you refused."

"Asset? You're talking about our son. And our son refused."

"He would have agreed, but you didn't even try to convince him. You let him leave the room the minute he said no. Again, you're too soft. I know that now—I just wish I had known it before I agreed to marry you. You're not the promised one. You're never going to change the fate of Demons."

I hissed an exhale, taking in each of his words like an arrow in the chest. But the servants in front of me still didn't blow my cover, and my parents were far too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice anything else.

She gritted her teeth. "I have been trying everything to restore the rule of Demons. I'm not going to force Isalio into something he hasn't agreed to, but I'll do anything else."

"Then kill me. You don't need me anymore, right? It's been sixteen years since we had a child together. We failed. I failed. So if you really haven't become soft, then kill me and take another man. That's what a real Demon Queen would do."

"What are you saying?" Her voice choked. "You...want me to kill you?"

"Better than being imprisoned by the Guardians' flowery-worded 'Accords' for the rest of my life."

"Is this life that terrible? Is living with me that terrible?"

He blew out a breath that made his lips flap. "We were supposed to restore the Dominion of Demons over the rest of the world. That was the only reason we married."

I found it strange that they were willing to share this intimate conversation with a dozen servants and not with me—but then again, in the drama that played out between my parents, the humans weren't even characters. Demons could be allies or inconveniences, and Guardians were our enemies, but humans were just commodities.

"That was the reason at the start. But after two decades..."

"After two decades?" he prompted, voice scathing.

Her response sounded embarrassed—almost apologetic. "Well, that's enough time for...I mean, what I'm saying is...sometimes, feelings can develop."

"Feelings?" This time, my father's response wasn't scathing—he sounded legitimately confused. "What feelings?"

She drew another breath before forging ahead. "I just mean that we spent a lot of time together, and a lot of time...trying to conceive another child. After all that, you must feel...something?"

He hissed a laugh. "I feel something, alright. I feel incredibly disappointed."

Grinding my teeth, I prayed to whatever Demons might still be lurking in the skies after their past lives: Show him who is boss, Mom.

I didn't want him dead—or at least, I wasn't ready to contemplate that possible outcome of their feud—but I was perfectly ready to cheer her on if she chose to zap him with electricity until he collapsed.

Unfortunately, as usual, she didn't. Instead, she responded to his last statement with something that hurt even more than my father's outright disapproval.

"I'm disappointed, too."

That statement sent a dagger right through my heart—and it sent me into action. I breathed aloud an apology: "I'm sorry, Alamaria." Then I turned the doorknob, shoved open the door between us and strolled straight up to my parents to declare my new verdict.

"I'm ready," I told my parents.

My mom's brow furrowed. "Ready for what?"

I glanced at the King, and he gave me a nod, smiling.

I clenched my fists, preparing for whatever would happen next. "Don't hold back. Whatever needs to happen to make me Snap, you should do it."

While my dad's smile spread wider, my mom bit her lip. "Isalio, are you sure?"

Her voice wobbled, and I knew the question was even flimsier than her voice. She didn't want this for me, but she did want this for her. She was asking me if I was sure so that she could write off whatever happened next as my choice and not hers.

And I was sure.

Because if I failed, the Demons would all mourn my loss, and even my father's eyes would fill with tears as he watched the wind sweep my ashes into the Sky Realm—or at least, I could imagine it so. And if I succeeded...

If I succeeded, the Duchess and Rogabeast could leave the palace at whim, and they could meet more friends. If Demons ruled the world, my mother and father could rekindle their love, and the rest of the Demons would finally experience true freedom.

"I'm sure," I said.

My father clapped his hands and started to speak, but my mother silenced him—literally. It was the first time I had seen her use her full power to push him back. His mouth snapped shut against his will, and he sizzled under the force of her electricity, eyes bulging and muscles trembling with the effort to override her powers.

"The General says he is sure he can make you Snap," she said to me, but she didn't look happy—in fact, her frown curved down further. "However...is that really what you want, Isalio? I don't know exactly what the General has planned, but I don't think it will be...well, it might be very..."

"I already told you that I'm sure." I used the kind of voice she never refused—the voice my father usually used to override her wishes. "I'm ready to become what you always wanted me to be. Make me powerful."

That was supposed to make her look happy—that was what she wanted from the start. So why did she look...sad? No, sad wasn't the word.

Heartbroken.

She released whatever force she had been using to silence my father, but even he didn't speak, either because he feared my father or because he was already satisfied with the way this conversation was going.

"Isalio," she repeated in a whisper, but she had nothing to follow.

"Mom," I replied, but I was equally lost with what to say next.

Her eyes begged me, and mine begged her back. Maybe both of us begged for the same thing. Say something, fast. This is your last chance to stop this from happening.

"What about the Duchess?" said my mother. "She won't allow it."

My father scoffed. "Why are you afraid of the Duchess? You're more powerful than her."

"But if she decides to fight me..."

I released a sharp exhale. My mother fighting the Duchess? That wouldn't happen, would it? Their relationship was complicated at best—after all, the Queen had killed the first boy her sister had fallen in love with. Yet the Duchess still always advised me to respect my mother, and I knew my mother loved her sister.

My father opened his mouth to speak, but I answered first. "I'll tell the Duchess to leave."

Then I would be the only one hurt by this. That was what I promised myself, and that was the only prayer I still dared to send to the Dominion of Demons. Because I knew this next part would hurt. I wasn't sure how much it would hurt, but I knew I couldn't let anyone I loved go through this.

Luckily, I didn't love myself.

However, despite my lack of self-love, some selfish part of me begged my mother to provide another option.

Her gaze fastened to me, critically assessing. "She'll ask why you changed your mind."

I fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny, to relent under the pressure like I usually did. But enough was enough. So this time, I pulled my shoulders back and gritted my teeth.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll handle the Duchess."

My mother sank back into her chair, and though she was still an inch higher than my father, she suddenly appeared much lower.

"General," my father called. "Isalio is ready for you."

A few seconds later, my worst nightmare and only reprieve strolled through the doorway. He stopped just a foot from me, close enough to demonstrate his height advantage. His smile split his face wide, baring all his teeth. He leaned even closer so I couldn't see him at all, so his towering form blotted out everything but his whisper in my ear.

"I'm so glad you finally came to your senses." His voice clicked with the wet sound that came from speaking over an overly-stretched smile. "Come with me, Lio. I'll take very good care of you."

My awareness shifted again, a half-step that left me straddling two consciousnesses; part of me was now Remgar, but I could still see inside Isalio's mind. His emotions collided with mine, a cognitive war: wariness against vitriol, determination against disgust.

The part of me that was still me wanted to scream at him not to do it, wanted to warn him of Danif's plan. But then I slipped further away, viewing the back of his head from some distant spot on the ceiling, and when I tried to open my mouth to scream, nothing came out. Just as he started to turn back toward me, the room dissolved.

"Isalio!"

My own yell startled both me and him. We were back at the Mantle, and he was still pressed against me, both of our chests heaving with panicked breaths. I refocused on him, leaning back far enough to fully see his face while still gripping his shoulders tight, and he blinked at me.

"You're ok?" I asked, but then I took in his frightened expression and the unblemished white around the amber irises of his wide eyes, and I changed my question to a reassurance. "You're ok. Oh, thank the First Guardian, you're back, and you're ok."

His breathing slowed a little, but he still looked haunted, and when he pulled back from me, his fingernails dug into his opposite forearms. "Did you see the same memory I just saw?"

"You were listening to your parents fight, and...and you decided to send the Duchess away and let Danif help you Snap." I grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers; in sharp contrast to how he had felt moments ago, his skin was now cold. "But that was fifteen years ago, and you already told me all of that."

"Yes, but I think the beast knows that the choice I made that day is still holding me back."

"What do you mean?"

"The day your father died, I was..." He clucked his tongue. "I tried, Rem, but I couldn't do it."

"I tried to heal him too, but I couldn't do it either."

"That's not what I'm not talking about. I'd already failed before that."

"Failed, how?"

"When we fought against the Palace army, I saw Danif. He saw me, too. At one point, he was looking right at me, and there was no one between us. That was my chance—I knew that was my chance! But I just..." He drew a shaky breath. "He should have been scared, but he just smiled at me like it was all so funny—like he already knew that I couldn't do it."

I frowned, not so much at the news as at the fact that he had omitted this part of the story until now. "So, you froze. Why were you ashamed to tell me that? You know I've frozen many times."

"That's different; you have good reason for that, and you're already getting better at unfreezing. But I only have this problem with him, and I'm not freezing, really. I'm just..."

Submitting, I thought. He was still submitting to Danif, just as he'd been trained to do.

I spoke carefully, knowing I was navigating dangerous territory. "The General has a lot of power."

He grimaced. "Not really. The Morgabeast is stronger than me, but I'm much stronger than the General. So why does this keep happening?"

"It doesn't matter how much power you have if someone else has power over your mind."

"So I'm weaker than him because I still fear him."

"No. You're not weaker than him. And your fear..." My response came out quickly and fiercely, unthinking, and the end of my statement surprised me as much as him. "Your fear makes you even stronger."

He raised an eyebrow. "When has fear ever made anyone stronger?"

"When you summoned the beast, were you afraid?"

His brow furrowed. "No. I wanted the same thing it wanted, and I had nothing to lose."

"And that's when it took control of you."

"And it made me more powerful."

I shook my head. "Not really. It made you its puppet. But you stopped following its commands—why?"

He hesitated. "Well, once I got more of my mind back, I could feel what it was planning to do next, and those plans were..."

"Scary. You broke free because you were afraid of what the beast might make you do. Right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"And you said the beast is quiet when you're with me, but you also said I've made you more afraid than you've ever been before. That hasn't made you weaker—it's made you stronger. The Morgabeast can't compete with that much fear."

"I don't know...clearly the beast still hasn't left. It's still trying to control me."

"That means it must believe you are its biggest threat. But it keeps failing."

"Only because you're here."

"So maybe together, we can lead our team to victory."

He pressed a fist into his forehead and exhaled heavily. "Are you saying you want me to help you lead the training?"

"I don't want to lead—I'm afraid of leading. But unfortunately..."

"It's the only way. If we want to beat a fearless beast, we have to embrace our fears."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? You think so?"

"No, I was just taking a guess at what you were about to say." When I rolled my eyes, he continued. "Ok, and I also realized that the beast is sending me visions of the times when I felt weakest, and maybe it's trying to persuade me that I'm not fit to lead."

I nodded. "If the Morgabeast doesn't want you to lead, and Fraschkit and the Duchess do, that alone should tell you something."

"And you'll join me?"

I thought of my father's last advice: wherever he goes, you must follow. "Whenever you need me, I'll be there. You don't have to worry about that. You only have to worry about the Morgabeast. Well, and the Palace."

"Oh, is that all?" He shook his head at me, but a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Alright, then. In the morning, we'll lead."