I used to think power was meant to crush enemies.
Now I know better.
Some enemies don't need crushing.
They need *reclaiming.*
The ring feels warmer after what I learned.
Like it's been *waiting* for me to understand this part.
That strength isn't just destruction.
It's direction.
I don't storm into their homes.
I *walk through their defenses like mist.*
One by one.
Calin is the first.
He wakes in his chamber to find me sitting at his desk, reading the false ledgers he thought no one else understood.
"You've done good things," I say. "But you're still hiding behind monsters."
He goes for a dagger.
The ring pulses once.
He stops mid-lunge—eyes wide, sweat beading on his brow like the blade itself has turned on him.
He doesn't know why he lowers his arm.
But he does.
Then he listens.
And he agrees.
Yvenna finds a letter on her pillow. No ink. Just a burn mark shaped like the ring.
She follows it—to an abandoned bell tower where I stand waiting, mask half-raised.
"You're too clever to die for the wrong cause," I tell her.
"I don't betray the Threadless."
"No," I say. "But you *already have.* You just haven't admitted it yet."
The ring hums, and for a flicker of a moment—just one—she sees a version of herself with blood on her hands. Wren's blood.
She weeps.
Then she swears herself to me.
Marrow is harder.
He doesn't speak. Doesn't run.
He simply *stares.*
But when I place the ringed hand over the archive stones in his vault, the magic dances between us.
Memory to memory.
I show him everything.
Wren's pain. The betrayal. The seals.
And the *possibility* of change.
He kneels.
Not to serve.
To *redeem.*
Thorne is exactly where I expect him—in a graveyard.
He's kneeling at a fresh grave, head bowed, lips moving in a silent prayer.
I don't hide.
"I'm not here to kill you," I say.
"That's a shame," he murmurs. "I was ready."
"I don't want your death. I want your eyes. Your memory."
"Why?"
"Because the ones giving orders don't care who gets buried next. You do."
He watches me in silence. Then, without a word, he unstraps the seal from his arm and lays it at my feet.
"I'll follow you," he says.
"One year."
That's all I need.
Because the ring has granted me more than force.
It has given me *influence.*
But it's not mind control.
It's *precision.*
A thread woven directly into their decisions—one that *tilts* them toward me, just enough.
They'll wake in the morning thinking they chose loyalty.
And in a way... they did.
Because the ring doesn't *steal* the will.
It *aligns* it.
For one year, they are mine.
Four sealed minds.
Four shadows realigned.
Back at the hideout, Lira hears the whole thing and just stares.
"That's... terrifying," she says.
"It's temporary," I reply.
Wren tilts her head. "And after the year?"
I look down at the ring.
The glow fades.
"We'll see who they are when they're free."
*Chains can be broken.*
*But sometimes, they need to be redirected first.*
*Let them walk with me.*
*Let them see the truth for themselves.*
*And when the year is done…*
*They'll choose their place in the new world I'm building.*