Orrin said the name like a prayer.
"Aderic."
Then he turned, calm as a host, and walked to the bookcase.
Mireya stayed where she was, knife hand aching from his twist. Stellan stood half a step in front of her, blood seeping between his fingers.
Neither of them moved.
Orrin pressed two fingertips to the brass trim.
A rune in the metal warmed under his touch.
The bookcase slid aside without a sound—smooth, practiced—revealing a narrow door of black wood.
Warm air breathed out of the gap.
Not candle warmth.
Body warmth.
Copper and bile. Wet stone. Something animal underneath it.
Stellan's Pulse-sight flickered up on instinct. His face tightened.
Mireya felt his reaction through the bond like a tug on a wire.
Orrin glanced over his shoulder, amused. "Come."
Stellan's voice came low. "No."
Orrin's brows lifted. "Do you think I'm asking?"
Two guards stepped in behind them. Not the vibration-ring ones. These wore leather collars etched with ward marks. Their eyes were flat.
Mireya's Silence tightened automatically.
The guards didn't blink.
Of course they didn't.
Orrin gestured toward the hidden door again. "If you want proof, you walk."
Mireya's jaw clenched. "We already have proof."
Orrin smiled. "You have paper. I'm offering you a living argument."
Stellan's grip on his side tightened. Mireya felt the mirrored pain spike and had to steady herself with one hand on the chair back.
She hated that.
Orrin noticed anyway. His eyes brightened.
"Still linked," he murmured. "Good."
He stepped through the doorway.
The guards shifted—quiet pressure at Mireya's shoulder, Stellan's back. Not shoving. Guiding.
Mireya made herself walk.
Stellan walked too, blade hand low, breathing measured like he could negotiate with his own blood loss.
They entered a corridor that didn't belong to a noble's home.
No carpets. No portraits.
Just stone and iron and the faint hum of wards sewn into the walls like veins.
The air got colder with every step.
Then it opened into a room lit by blue witch-lamps.
Tables lined with tools—hooks, scalpels, bone saws. Glass jars. Warded chains coiled like sleeping snakes. Chalk circles scored into the floor.
A laboratory.
Orrin stood in the center like it was a chapel.
Behind him: a cage.
Iron bars, thick as wrists. Runes carved into each one. The ward hum was loud enough to feel in teeth.
Something moved inside the cage.
Low. Restless. Breathing too fast.
Stellan's Pulse-sight surged.
Mireya didn't need it to know what was in there.
The smell alone told her: wet fur and old blood.
Orrin spread his hands. "Prototype."
The thing in the cage lifted its head.
Half a face was human.
The other half… wasn't finished being anything.
A jaw extended wrong, as if bone had been pulled longer than it wanted. Teeth crowded in uneven rows. One ear was human. One ear was wolf, twitching.
Its shoulders were too broad for its ribs. Its hands ended in fingers that didn't know if they were meant to hold a pen or tear flesh.
It stared at them with eyes that looked human until they blinked.
Then they looked like an animal's.
Mireya's throat went tight.
Stellan's jaw clenched so hard she saw the muscle jump.
Orrin watched their reactions like a man tasting wine.
"Barely controlled," he said, almost fond. "Which is why it's chained."
The Shifter's lips pulled back.
A sound came out—except it wasn't sound.
Mireya felt it as pressure. A vibration in her bones. A magic-scream that made her stomach turn and her vision blur.
Stellan staggered a half step. His Pulse-sight flared too hard, too fast.
Mireya felt his overload like heat behind her eyes.
Stellan's voice came out rough. "Stop."
Orrin didn't. He stepped closer to the cage and tapped a rune with his fingernail.
The ward hum shifted.
The Shifter convulsed.
Its spine arched like it was being pulled by invisible hooks. Fur surged along one arm, then receded. Human skin split, then stitched itself back wrong.
Its Pulse—Stellan's view of it—must have been chaos.
Stellan's pupils widened. He swallowed hard.
Mireya hated that she couldn't mute this.
Silence stole sound.
This was magic vibrating through the air itself.
She tightened her Silence anyway—hard, desperate—wrapping it around the room like a chokehold.
The witch-lamps still flickered.
The hum still drilled into her teeth.
The Shifter still writhed.
Mireya's head swam. Nausea rolled. The bond anchored harder from the stress, dragging Stellan's hearing deeper into her skull, dragging her pain deeper into his.
Stellan grunted as his side wound pulled. Mireya dropped to one knee from the mirrored spike, palm flat on the cold stone.
Orrin watched her collapse and smiled. "There. See? It's not just romance. It's architecture."
Stellan's voice went low, dangerous. "What did you do to it."
Orrin tilted his head. "I gave it what your court already has. Advantage."
The Shifter slammed a clawed hand into the bars.
Metal screamed—real sound this time—and Mireya's Silence crushed it flat.
But the impact still traveled through the floor.
The creature's body shook, desperate to get out.
Stellan's Pulse-sight visibly strained. His breath went shallow.
He forced it out, blunt. "It's two beats."
Orrin nodded. "Braided."
Mireya looked up sharply. "So you can do it."
Orrin's gaze slid to her, pleased. "I can begin it."
The Shifter's head turned, slow, tracking them with unnatural focus.
Not hunting.
Recognizing.
Mireya's stomach dropped.
Because the Shifter wasn't looking at Stellan.
It was looking at her.
Stellan shifted to block the line of sight. Mireya grabbed his sleeve—barely, a warning touch.
He stiffened at contact. She let go immediately.
Too much.
Too fast.
Orrin's smile widened like he'd seen a secret he wanted.
"The first attempts were crude," Orrin said, almost conversational. "Most subjects broke. Screamed. Bit. Died."
He gestured toward the Shifter. "This one didn't die."
Stellan's voice stayed tight. "Who was it."
Orrin's eyes gleamed. "A nobody."
The Shifter's breathing hitched, as if it understood the insult.
Mireya's throat burned. She forced her voice steady. "You called us proof."
Orrin nodded. "Because you are."
He stepped closer to the cage, eyes bright with devotion now, not just pride. "Two talents colliding. A Concord forming without ritual. Without permission."
He looked at Mireya. "That doesn't happen by accident."
Mireya's jaw clenched. "It did."
The bond flared instantly.
Pressure behind her eyes.
Lie.
Stellan heard the hitch in her breath through her ears. His shoulders tightened. He didn't call her out.
Orrin laughed softly. "Ah. There it is."
The Shifter leaned forward, bars creaking under its weight.
Its face twitched, like it was trying to remember how to move human skin.
Then it spoke.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
A human voice squeezed out from between teeth that didn't fit.
"Vesper."
Mireya went still.
Stellan's head snapped toward her.
Orrin's smile turned delighted, like the room had just applauded his best line.
And in the blue witch-light, with the Shifter's gaze locked on her like a claim, Mireya understood the worst part:
It didn't say her name like a stranger.
It said it like it had been taught.