The flickering hearth in Zareena's study did little to cut the cold that followed her father inside. Malik Serinov stood with his back to the fire, arms clasped behind him—not as a father, but as the High Lord of House Serinova.
"You wanted the truth," he said at last, voice low. "I never told you… because even I hoped it would stay buried."
Zareena, seated with gloves still on, didn't look away. "The ghouls. They're tied to Mother, aren't they?"
Malik's silence said enough.
"She was dying," he said finally. "Long before you were born. Something in her blood—some old curse from the southern mountains. The priests couldn't save her. The mages tried and failed."
"So you turned to the Forbidden."
He nodded, slowly. "There was a woman. From the ancient line of Seers… She called herself Varsha of the Shroud. She offered a pact. Life… in exchange for protection. But protection from what, I never asked."
Zareena's throat tightened. "And the price?"
"You."
A beat.
"She said your fate was knotted with the frost. That your mother's life would end in childbirth… unless a tether was formed. I didn't know it would summon… these things."
The ghouls. The Hollow King.
"Now the frost calls them," Malik murmured. "And they come to test you."
Zareena stood slowly. "So I'm the reason they come."
"No," Malik said, stepping closer. "You're the reason we still stand."
From the shadows beyond the door, two sets of eyes watched—her stepbrother Yarik, and her stepsister, Lira.
"He named her the heir. He gave her everything," Lira hissed later in the corridors. "And now even the curse bows to her."
Yarik's jaw clenched. "Then maybe it's time we make the frost take her back."