Page 115 of The War of Four Winters

Aryn bowed deeply, the gesture carrying genuine respect. "The shadows honor us with their trust."

"The shadows remember those who keep faith. I have served the order without failing in any duty, save one." Her mask tilted toward him, and though I couldn't see her face, I could hear the raw emotion she allowed herself this one moment. "I was a poor mother to you, but if I have ever truly failed as Mistress of Blades, it is that I never stopped loving you, even when duty demanded it."

Aryn's careful composure faltered, revealing a vulnerability I'd never witnessed in him before. No words passed between them, but something profound did—recognition, perhaps forgiveness.

With that, she made a single, fluid gesture with her hand. The cherry trees surrounding us released their blossoms all at once, creating a swirling storm of pale pink petals that filled the air between us. When the delicate curtain settled moments later, she was gone, leaving only the faintest scent of cherry blossoms and a single black petal where she had stood.

Our escorts materialized from the shadows, their silver tattoos gleaming briefly before fading as they led us back toward the teahouse entrance. No words were exchanged, none needed. The Shikami had made their choice, gambling on a future where women might hold power equal to men throughout the realm.

As we emerged into the pre-dawn darkness of the Pleasure District, Aryn finally broke his silence.

"She gave you the key." Disbelief colored his voice. "I didn't think she would."

"Did you doubt my sincerity?" The wooden box felt warm against my palm, almost alive.

"No. But the Shikami have maintained their neutrality since before the first stones of D'thallanar were laid." He glanced back at the teahouse, its elegant façade now indistinguishable from the others surrounding it. "For her to grant you access now..."

"She believes we'll win." I tucked the box securely inside my tunic. "Or at least, she believes the risk of backing us is less than the risk of maintaining neutrality while Michail's forces grow."

"Perhaps." Aryn didn't sound convinced. His face held an unusual softness, a moment of vulnerability quickly masked. "Her reasons are her own."

"There's something you're not telling me."

"There are many things I don't tell you." His voice carried no emotion, yet somehow conveyed a great weight. "Some secrets aren't mine to share."

I studied him in the dim pre-dawn light, seeing subtle echoes of my father in the shape of his jaw, the set of his shoulders—and something else, something in the graceful economy of his movements that reminded me of the woman we'd just left.

"When I could no longer be what the Shikami required," he continued, his voice barely audible, "she should have killed me. In the past, that was always what was done. I was a traitor to the order, a risk. Instead, she spared me. I always wondered….” He paused, closed his eyes, and swallowed. “Never mind. That’s not important. What’s important is that we got the key. We have a way forward.”

I gripped my brother’s shoulder. “When the sun rises on the new world, brother, there will be time for you to reconcile things with her. But first, we must get there.”

Aryn nodded. “I will show you the way.”

TheShikamitunnelswoundbeneath D'thallanar like the veins of some ancient creature, paths carved through living stone in an age before written memory. Aryn led us through the darkness with only a dim lantern as our guide. The tunnels grew narrower as we descended, the air thickening with age and secrets.

"We're beneath the river now," Aryn murmured, his voice barely audible above the distant rumble of water pressing against stone overhead. "The Assembly island stands directly above us."

My hand instinctively found the scar beneath my ribs, the phantom pain flaring as if in warning. "How much farther?"

"Not far. The southern path leads directly to Tarathiel's private chambers." His eyes met mine briefly. "Are you certain this is the approach you wish to take? We could emerge in the Temple or the Hall of Records instead."

"This ends with him," I replied, the words tasting of iron and resolve. "No more proxies. No more battles through intermediaries. Just father and son, as it was always meant to be."

Aryn nodded once, understanding. We continued in silence, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down upon us more heavily than the countless tons of stone and water overhead.

The tunnel curved sharply upward, leading to a dead end of seamless stone. Aryn stepped back, gesturing toward it.

"This is where we part ways," he said, his voice flat. "The key will open a door that only you can pass through. Blood recognizes blood—a Shikami safeguard against betrayal."

I withdrew the black jade key from within my tunic, feeling its unnatural warmth against my palm. "What will you do?"

"Find another way in. There are passages the Shikami maintain that even Tarathiel doesn't know exist." He gripped my shoulder briefly. "Be careful. He may seem old and weakened, but he didn't survive this long by being predictable."

I nodded. "Take care as well. These tunnels have already claimed enough lives."

A rare smirk appeared on my brother’s face. "The shadows are where I’ve always been most at home,” he said and set the lantern down. Aryn disappeared into the dark, where only his eyes could see.

I turned back to the rock face. It was smooth except for a small keyhole. I slid the key into it smoothly. A soft click echoed in the confined space, followed by the sound of stone grinding against stone as a hidden door slid open.

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