MALACHAR POV
I watched through the scrying pool, and I couldn't stop laughing.
It hurt—broken ribs from Kael's earlier assault, bruised throat from Elara's tamer command. But I laughed anyway, the sound echoing through my empty cell.
"Fools," I whispered to the stone walls. "All of you. You really thought you could survive this battle?"
The scrying pool showed me everything. The battlefield. Elara burning herself alive with power she couldn't control. Kael trapped in enchanted nets. Seraphine crying as her world fell apart.
And standing in the center of it all—the real Architect. The Firstborn. The thing that had been using me as a puppet for five centuries.
"You were so sure," I continued, talking to memories, to the empty air. "So certain that the cursed brother was the mastermind. That I'd orchestrated everything out of grief and revenge."
I had, in a way. But not the way they thought.
