Katrina's POV

The moment Katrina closed her eyes, she felt it again—that slow, sinking pull, like hands dragging her beneath the surface of a frozen lake.

By now, she knew better than to fight it.

She let herself fall.

And when she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else.

The Past

The chamber was dimly lit, the golden glow of torches flickering against polished stone walls. It wasn't cold, not like the North—this place was warmer, alive with the soft murmur of voices in the halls beyond.

And at the center of it all, standing before a long wooden table, was him.

Not a child this time. Not the broken boy from before.

A young man.

Seventeen, maybe eighteen. His hair was longer now, curling over his shoulders, his features sharper, more refined—but his golden eyes were the same.

And there was something new in them.

Not just fear.

Not just pain.

Calculation.

Katrina's stomach twisted as she watched him. She could already see it—how he carried himself now, the confidence in his stance, the way he held his hands behind his back in a way that looked controlled, practiced.

The boy who had once cried alone in the dark was gone.

And in his place stood someone else entirely.

She heard a door creak open behind her, and when she turned, she saw her.

Her mother.

Katrina's breath caught.

She looked younger than Katrina had imagined—barely older than herself. Dark hair falling over her shoulders, her golden eyes—Katrina's eyes—bright and full of something sharp, something fierce.

She was beautiful. Strong.

And utterly unaware of the danger standing in front of her.

Her father turned to her, and just like that, his expression shifted.

His features softened. His lips curled into something close to a smile.

Katrina recognized it for what it was immediately.

A mask.

But her mother didn't see it.

Katrina wanted to scream, to warn her, to stop this moment from happening, but she could only watch as her father stepped closer.

"You must be the new apprentice," he said, his voice smooth, inviting.

Her mother hesitated before nodding. "I am."

He smiled. "I heard you were… talented."

Her mother straightened slightly. "I work hard."

Katrina winced.

That was all he needed.

She knew the pattern. Knew how this game was played.

Her father had always known who to target.

The ones who were strong, but still searching for something.

The ones who had potential, but didn't yet know their own worth.

And her mother—young, ambitious, brilliant—was exactly the kind of person he could manipulate.

And gods, he played the part perfectly.

He softened his gaze, tilted his head slightly, as if curious.

"I imagine it must be difficult," he mused. "For someone like you."

Her mother frowned. "Someone like me?"

"Someone with power," he clarified, his voice smooth as silk. "Someone with ambition." He smiled, slow and deliberate. "People don't always know what to do with that, do they?"

Katrina's stomach churned.

Her mother exhaled, glancing away. "No. They don't."

And there it was.

The opening.

Her father stepped into it, closing the distance between them ever so slightly.

"They fear what they don't understand," he murmured. "They want to contain it. Control it." He studied her, tilting his head. "I imagine that's what they've tried to do to you."

Her mother hesitated.

And her father knew he had her.

He lowered his voice just slightly. "But you don't have to let them."

Katrina clenched her fists. Damn it.

She could see the shift in her mother's posture, the way her shoulders relaxed just slightly, the way she wanted to believe him.

Because that was what he did.

He made people believe he was the only one who understood them.

That was how he broke them.

Not with chains.

Not with force.

But with carefully placed words, perfectly crafted moments.

It had always been his greatest weapon.

Her mother exhaled, shaking her head as if trying to push the thought away. "I should get back to my work."

But her father just smiled.

"Of course."

He didn't chase her. Didn't try to stop her.

Because he didn't need to.

He had already planted the seed.

And he knew it.

Katrina wanted to shatter the memory.

She wanted to scream, to shake her mother, to warn her, but it was too late.

This was where it had started.

Her mother had never stood a chance.

And as she watched her father turn away, his golden eyes glinting with satisfaction, she felt his gaze flick toward her—

And just like before—

A slow, knowing smirk.

Katrina's body jerked—

And she was ripped from the memory.

Katrina's eyes snapped open, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jon was already kneeling beside her, his hands gripping her arms. "Katrina—"

She pushed herself upright, her entire body trembling, her head pounding.

Arya and Reynolds were both watching her, tense and waiting.

"What did you see?" Arya asked.

Katrina swallowed hard, pressing a hand against her temple.

Hating everything about what she had just witnessed.

"He manipulated her," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Everything Reynolds said was true."

Jon's jaw tightened. "Your mother?"

Katrina nodded, her throat tight. "He chose her. Tracked her down. Made her believe she was special, that he understood her." She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "And she believed him."

Reynolds exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's how he worked."

Jon's grip on her arms tightened. "And you?"

Katrina inhaled shakily, finally meeting his gaze.

"He saw me again, Jon." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "And this time…"

Her hands clenched into fists.

"He knew I was watching."

Jon's expression darkened.

Reynolds exhaled. "Then we're running out of time."

Arya stood, adjusting her belt. "We need to find the last memory before he does."

Katrina swallowed hard.

Because she knew what was coming next.

The memory that mattered most.

The moment her mother realized the truth.

And the moment her father decided to kill her for it.

Katrina's POV

She knew it was coming.

The weight of it had been pressing on her since the moment she first fell into his past, dragging her deeper, showing her what she was never supposed to see.

But this…

This was the moment that changed everything.

The moment he changed everything.

The final piece of the past.

The moment her mother realized the truth—

And the moment her father ended her for it.

Katrina barely had time to brace herself before the world around her shifted, the air turning thick and wrong, the shadows stretching into something endless.

And then—

She was there.

The Past

The room was small, dimly lit by flickering candlelight. The scent of burning wax and damp stone filled the air, mingling with something metallic—blood.

Katrina's mother stood in the center of the chamber, her golden eyes wide with fear.

Not the kind of fear that came from the unknown.

The kind that came from understanding everything too late.

And standing in front of her—his posture relaxed, his face unreadable—was him.

Her father.

Older than the last memory. A man now, fully grown, draped in dark robes, his golden eyes cold and calculating.

There was no mask this time.

No deception.

This was who he was.

And her mother knew it.

"You lied to me," her mother whispered, her voice shaking, filled with disbelief.

Katrina swallowed hard, watching as her father tilted his head, amusement flickering in his expression. "I never lied," he murmured. "You just never asked the right questions."

Her mother's breath hitched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You—"

Her voice broke.

Katrina knew what she was feeling. The horror. The betrayal. That sick, sinking realization that everything she had believed, everything she had trusted, had been a lie.

"You said—" Her mother's voice was ragged, raw. "You said you loved me."

Her father's expression didn't change. "I did."

A pause. A heartbeat of silence.

"And now you don't?" her mother whispered, something cracking in her voice.

Katrina felt a horrible weight in her chest, an ache she did not want to feel.

Her father took a slow step forward. "Love," he said, his tone almost gentle, "is an illusion."

Katrina's mother inhaled sharply. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No. It isn't."

Her father smiled—mocking. "Then tell me—what does your love give you now?"

Katrina hated him.

Her mother clenched her jaw, but there was fire in her now, her golden eyes burning as she took a step back, closer to the door. "You think you're invincible," she hissed. "But you're just a man. A weak, pathetic man who only knows how to take because you're too afraid to feel anything real."

Her father's expression flickered—just for a second.

Then it was gone.

And Katrina's blood ran cold.

Because she knew what was coming.

Her mother saw it too. The way his posture shifted, the way the shadows seemed to bend toward him.

And for the first time, her mother understood.

Her voice was softer now. Shaken. "You were never going to let me go, were you?"

Her father exhaled, almost bored. "No."

Her mother's hands trembled at her sides, her breath coming faster. But she was still fighting, still thinking.

"I could run," she whispered, her eyes darting toward the door.

Her father smiled. "You could try."

Her mother clenched her fists. "I could burn you."

Her father chuckled. "You wouldn't be the first."

Her mother moved.

She lunged for the door, her fire flaring, golden flames bursting from her fingertips—

But he was faster.

Katrina barely had time to scream before it happened.

A dark shadow coiled from her father's fingertips, twisting through the air like a living thing—

And wrapped around her mother's throat.

Her mother choked, her fire flickering out, her body jerking as she clawed at the unseen force crushing her windpipe.

Her father watched her struggle, his expression eerily calm.

Her mother's eyes met his, wide, pleading.

And for a split second—just a fraction of a moment—Katrina thought she saw hesitation.

A flicker of something human.

But then—

The hesitation was gone.

And he snapped his fingers.

The shadow tightened.

Her mother's body went still.

And just like that—

She was gone.

Katrina screamed.

But the moment her mother's body hit the ground, the world fractured.

Katrina felt herself yanked from the memory, the past shattering around her—

And then—

She was back.

She gasped awake, her entire body shaking, her breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

Jon was right there, his hands gripping her shoulders, his dark eyes filled with panic. "Katrina—"

She shoved him off, stumbling to her feet, her hands trembling so badly she could barely breathe.

Arya and Reynolds were already watching her, waiting.

She couldn't speak.

She couldn't breathe.

Her father's voice—

Her mother's choked gasp—

The moment the light left her eyes—

It was all still there, still inside her, burning through her veins like poison.

Jon's voice was quiet. "It was her, wasn't it?"

Katrina squeezed her eyes shut. "She never had a chance."

Arya exhaled sharply, rubbing her jaw. "And now we know why he's still here."

Reynolds clenched his fists, his golden eyes dark. "Because he wants to be."

Jon ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. "Then we take that choice away from him."

Katrina exhaled shakily, lifting her head, her golden eyes flickering in the dim firelight.

This was it.

This was what she needed.

The final piece.

The truth was clear now.

Her father had never been a man.

He had always been a shadow, waiting to consume whatever was left of himself.

And now—

She was going to end him.

For good.

...

Deep in the ruins of the First Shadow, something stirred.

The darkness, once dormant, shifted, stretching, curling—waiting.

And from the depths of the black, a voice whispered.

Soft.

Cold.

Amused.

"Did you think it would be that easy, daughter?"