Katrina's Father's POV (Inside Katrina's Body)

The ruins of the First Shadow loomed ahead, jagged and ancient, half-buried beneath centuries of ice. The power pulsing beneath the earth was alive, waiting for him. It called to him, whispering promises of completion, of dominion, of true immortality.

And now, with Katrina's body under his control, he was closer than ever to taking it.

Jon Snow was still watching him.

Suspicious. Careful.

But he had no proof.

Not yet.

Katrina's movements had become smoother, more natural as he settled into her form. The longer he remained inside her, the more control he gained. At first, he had to focus to maintain the illusion of her. To mimic the way she carried herself, the way she smirked, the way she held tension in her shoulders.

But now—

Now it was easier.

Because he was becoming her.

And soon, she wouldn't be able to fight back at all.

⸻

Jon's POV

Jon knew.

He knew.

Every step Katrina took was wrong. Every flick of her golden eyes, every little movement, every word that came just a second too late—wrong, wrong, wrong.

She was still Katrina.

But she wasn't.

And gods, it terrified him.

Because if he was right—if something was inside her, if something had taken her—then what the hell was he supposed to do?

She was leading them toward the First Shadow ruins, walking with confidence, her stride steady, her body too at ease.

Katrina was never at ease before a fight.

She was fire—untamed, sharp at the edges, always ready to burn.

But this?

This was calm.

Controlled.

Jon's grip on Longclaw tightened.

If he was wrong, if this was just his paranoia, then he'd break the one thing that mattered most to him.

But if he was right…

If he was right…

Then Katrina was in danger.

And he had to get her back.

He just had to figure out how.

⸻

Reynolds' POV

Reynolds was distracted.

Which was unusual, because usually, he was the one distracting people.

But Arya Stark was a different kind of distraction.

Sharp. Impossible to pin down. He found himself watching her more than watching their surroundings, which was dangerous, because his father's presence was still here.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

He had barely noticed Jon's tension, too caught up in whatever thing he and Arya had going.

But now—

Now he was starting to see it.

Jon wasn't just being his usual brooding, overprotective self.

Jon was on edge.

Watching Katrina.

And not in a good way.

Reynolds frowned, stepping up beside him. "You look like you want to punch something."

Jon didn't respond right away. His dark eyes were still locked on Katrina's back, his grip tight on his sword.

Reynolds followed his gaze, watching Katrina as she walked ahead.

And for the first time—

He noticed.

The way her shoulders were too loose.

The way her fire hadn't flared up once.

The way she hadn't touched Jon at all.

It was subtle.

But it was off.

Reynolds' stomach twisted.

"Jon," he said slowly, voice low, careful. "What are you thinking?"

Jon inhaled sharply. "That's not her."

Reynolds stiffened. "What?"

Jon's jaw clenched. His voice was quiet, but filled with certainty.

"That is not Katrina."

⸻

Katrina's Father's POV (Inside Katrina's Body)

He felt it.

The moment Jon whispered those words, the moment the doubt started spreading, he felt it.

A flicker of danger.

A risk.

Jon was too close.

Too smart.

Too tied to Katrina.

That connection between them was strong—too strong. It made him a problem. A threat.

And threats had to be eliminated.

His fingers curled, heat flickering in his palm. Katrina's fire.

It was his now.

His to use.

His to burn with.

And if Jon Snow got in his way—

Then he would burn first.

Jon's POV

Jon didn't take his eyes off Katrina.

The ruins of the First Shadow loomed ahead, the air thick with something wrong, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

And Katrina—not Katrina—walked toward them like she belonged there.

Jon's grip on Longclaw tightened.

She hadn't touched him.

She hadn't once reached for him like she always did, even unconsciously.

She hadn't argued, hadn't fought him on anything, hadn't given him one of those sharp, stubborn looks that said I know I'm reckless, but I'm doing it anyway, so deal with it, Snow.

And her fire—

Gods, her fire.

Jon had seen it countless times, had felt its heat more than once. It flared with her emotions, crackled to life when she was irritated or passionate or furious.

But this?

This was controlled. Measured.

Not Katrina.

Jon exhaled, forcing himself to stay steady, to think.

Because if he was right—if Katrina wasn't the one in control—then what the hell was he supposed to do?

⸻

Reynolds' POV

Reynolds watched Jon.

And then he watched Katrina.

And for the first time, he saw it too.

The way she was too calm. The way she walked with too much certainty. The way something in her posture was just wrong.

Reynolds frowned, lowering his voice. "You think she's…?"

Jon didn't look at him. His gaze was still locked on her back, his voice low, tight. "I know she is."

Reynolds exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Well. That's bad."

Jon's jaw clenched. "Yeah."

Reynolds glanced at Arya, who had been quiet the past few minutes, which was never a good sign.

And, sure enough, Arya had noticed too.

She wasn't looking at Katrina—she was looking at Jon, watching him carefully, measuring his reactions, reading the way his fingers curled into fists like he was holding himself back.

"You're sure?" Arya asked, her voice unreadable.

Jon gave a sharp nod. "Yes."

Reynolds sighed. "Well, I could say let's handle this carefully, but let's be honest, this is going to go to hell fast."

Arya smirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Good. I was getting bored."

Reynolds rolled his eyes. Starks.

⸻

Katrina's Father's POV (Inside Katrina's Body)

He felt their suspicion.

Felt the weight of Jon's gaze, the quiet calculation of Arya's mind, the slow realization creeping into Reynolds.

They knew.

Not fully. Not yet.

But they knew something was wrong.

Jon Snow was the worst of them.

His bond with Katrina ran too deep, their connection too strong.

She was still fighting inside him, still clawing against the walls he had built around her mind. He could feel her rage, her screams, her desperate attempts to break free.

And it was him.

Jon.

Even in the prison of her own mind, she was screaming his name.

Calling for him.

Pathetic.

Still, he had to be careful. Had to keep the illusion from cracking before it was time.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Once he reached the core of the First Shadow, he could finish the binding. He would be unshakable.

Katrina would be gone.

And he would have everything.

But Jon Snow was going to be a problem.

So maybe it was time to deal with him.

⸻

Jon's POV

Katrina turned suddenly, and Jon nearly flinched at how wrong it looked.

But then she smiled.

And it was wrong.

Cold.

Calculated.

Jon's stomach twisted.

"I need to go ahead," Katrina said smoothly. "The connection is strongest for me."

Jon didn't move. "We stay together."

Katrina tilted her head, her golden eyes glinting. "Jon."

It was her voice.

It was her face.

But it wasn't her.

Jon clenched his jaw. "We stay together."

Katrina sighed, her lips curving upward like she was amused. "You don't trust me?"

Jon didn't blink. "Not right now."

Silence.

The air changed.

Katrina's golden eyes darkened.

And for the first time, she truly looked at him.

Jon's pulse pounded.

Because it wasn't Katrina looking back at him anymore.

It was something else entirely.

Something that knew him.

Something that hated him.

And then—

Katrina moved.

Fast.

Jon barely had time to react before fire exploded from her palm—

And it wasn't Katrina's fire.

It was his.

Her father's.

Jon dove out of the way, rolling as the flames scorched the ground where he had been standing. Snow melted instantly, steam rising into the air in thick waves.

Reynolds swore. Arya moved, her dagger already in her hand.

Jon landed on his feet, sword raised, heart hammering.

And Katrina—not Katrina—smirked.

"You always were the clever one," she said.

Jon's stomach dropped.

Because that wasn't her voice anymore.

It was his.

Her father's.

Jon gritted his teeth. "Let. Her. Go."

The smirk widened.

"I think I'll keep her a little longer."

Then the fire came again.

And this time—

Jon wasn't sure if he could stop it.