Derpy stood in a place that looked like his own thoughts had tried to build a room and failed.

  There were walls, but they didn’t meet.

  There was a floor, but it felt like it was remembering other floors.

  And there was a sky—if you could call it that—made of slow-moving ash and dim, patient light.

  His bracelets were there too.

  Not on his wrists.

  In the air.

  Two rings of warmth orbiting him like they were waiting for permission to become restraints.

  Derpy swallowed.

  He could still taste the morning after.

  Vaeloria’s laugh.

  The steward’s pale face.

  Site Black.

  The words sat in his head like a nail.

  He tried to breathe past it.

  Tried to do what he always did.

  Make it smaller.

  Make it manageable.

  Make it peaceful.

  A voice answered from behind him.

  Soft.

  Familiar.

  Too close.

  “Peaceful,” Sinister Derpy repeated, like he was tasting the word.

  Derpy turned.

  He was there.

  Not a shadow.

  Not a monster.

  Not a second set of eyes in the dark.

  Just… him.

  Same face.

  Same hair.

  Same posture.

  But the smile didn’t belong.

  It sat wrong on the mouth, like it had been practiced in a mirror that hated him.

  Derpy’s throat tightened.

  “You said you’d help,” Derpy whispered.

  “I did,” Sinister Derpy said.

  He stepped closer, hands loose at his sides, like he was approaching a frightened animal.

  “Look at you,” he murmured. “Still trying to be good in a room full of knives.”

  Derpy flinched.

  “I tried to fix it,” he said.

  “I tried to talk. I tried to—”

  “To make them see you as something other than a monster?” Sinister Derpy’s voice stayed gentle.

  Derpy’s jaw clenched.

  Sinister Derpy tilted his head.

  “They still see you as a monster,” he said.

  The ash-sky above them shifted, like it agreed.

  Derpy’s bracelets warmed in the air.

  Not comfort.

  Warning.

  “I don’t want to hurt them,” Derpy said.

  “I know,” Sinister Derpy replied.

  He took another step.

  Close enough that Derpy could see the difference.

  Not in the eyes.

  In the stillness behind them.

  A patience that didn’t belong to a boy.

  A patience that belonged to something that had waited through empires.

  “You didn’t call me because you wanted violence,” Sinister Derpy said.

  “You called me because you wanted control.”

  Derpy’s breath hitched.

  “I wanted peace,” he insisted.

  Sinister Derpy’s smile thinned.

  “You wanted the pain to stop,” he corrected.

  “And you were willing to pay for it.”

  Derpy’s hands curled.

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did.”

  The words landed like a lock clicking shut.

  Sinister Derpy lifted his chin, as if listening to something only he could hear.

  “Five days ago,” he said.

  Derpy’s stomach dropped.

  Containment.

  Cold stone.

  The smell of iron and old ash.

  His own voice, shaking in the dark.

  Just… help me. Please. Just help me do this without hurting them.

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  Sinister Derpy’s gaze softened.

  “Do you remember what you offered?” he asked.

  Derpy’s mouth went dry.

  He remembered the feeling.

  The desperation.

  The way he’d reached inward like grabbing a hand in a flood.

  “I offered you a chance,” Derpy said.

  “A chance to—”

  “To drive,” Sinister Derpy finished.

  Derpy’s bracelets in the air rotated once.

  Slow.

  Deliberate.

  Like a key turning.

  Sinister Derpy stepped around him, circling.

  Not predatory.

  Worse.

  Possessive.

  “You said you’d let me take the wheel when you couldn’t,” he murmured.

  “You said you’d stop fighting me if I promised not to hurt the ones you love.”

  Derpy’s chest tightened.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You meant it,” Sinister Derpy said.

  “Because you were terrified.”

  He stopped in front of Derpy again.

  Close.

  “Terrified of what they’d do to you,” he said.

  “Terrified of what you’d become.”

  Derpy’s voice cracked.

  “I don’t want to be you.”

  Sinister Derpy’s smile returned.

  Wrong.

  “Then you shouldn’t have asked me to save you,” he said.

  The ash-sky dimmed.

  A hush fell.

  Sinister Derpy’s lips parted.

  And he began to sing.

  I rose before you had a word for fear Before your lungs learned how to beg When silence wasn’t peace—just clear And mercy hadn’t grown a leg

  No throne. No law. No “right” or “wrong.”Just hunger wearing patient skinI listened to your heartbeat songAnd learned the door you lock within

  You learned to hate me from the aftertaste You learned my shape from sleepless nightsI was awake before your world had names Before your prayers learned how to bite

  You call me ruin, you call me the end Yet you invited me again You closed your eyes, you held your breath And signed your shaking name in debt

  You thought the bargain was a bridge A quiet way to make it stop But bargains don’t erase the edge—They only teach the blade to talk

  I don’t sleep under stone and bone A tired beast you keep beneath I am the dark where vows are sewn The thread that tightens when you breathe

  Your fragile peace, your careful tone Your “I can fix this” whispered prayer Was just a key you carved from bone And pressed into my waiting stare

  You tried to be gentle. Tried to be good. Tried to be seen as something else But they still looked at you like blood—A monster wearing borrowed flesh

  So you came to me. Not as a war.Not as a scream. Not as a sin. You came like someone at a door Who finally lets the wolf come in

  I was alive before your world had a name Before the echo of blame and shame You call it “peace,” you call it “change” I call it chains you rearranged

  Listen—One for the promise you couldn’t keep One for the fear you couldn’t say One for the nights you couldn’t sleep One for the price you chose to pay

  Feel them.Not iron. Not rope. Not steel.Just truth made tight around your willYou said my name. You made it real.Now I decide what “peace” means still

  You thought you bought yourself a dawnA softer path, a cleaner endBut dawn is just the mask you put onWhen darkness learns to play your friend

  I don’t forgive. I don’t pretend.I don’t “heal” what they won’t spare.I am the beginning without an end—And now I’m wearing your face out there

  You call me chaos. You call me fate.I call it balance you learned too lateWhen all your careful truths collapse—You’ll feel my smile in the aftermath

  And if you’re shaking—good.That means the chain is set.That means you understand:Things are different now.

  Because you made a deal. And I kept it.

  Now sleep.

  Now let me drive.

  As the last line left his mouth, the bracelets in the air snapped into motion.

  They didn’t fly.

  They decided.

  Warm rings of light became links.

  Links became chains.

  Chains became certainty.

  They wrapped around Derpy’s wrists, his throat, his ribs—without touching skin.

  A binding of consent.

  A binding of words.

  Derpy tried to pull away.

  The chains tightened.

  Not painful.

  Worse.

  Final.

  Sinister Derpy leaned in until his forehead almost touched Derpy’s.

  “I promised,” he whispered.

  “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt them.”

  Derpy’s eyes burned.

  “And you promised me,” Sinister Derpy continued, “that when you couldn’t carry it anymore—

  you’d stop fighting.

  You’d let me take it.”

  Derpy’s knees went weak.

  The mindscape dimmed.

  Like a curtain falling.

  The last thing Derpy saw was that smile.

  Wrong.

  Satisfied.

  And then—

  he was gone.

  Derpy opened his eyes.

  Morning light spilled across the chamber in pale stripes.

  The palace smelled like polished stone and expensive lies.

  He sat up slowly.

  Too slowly.

  Like he was making sure the body remembered who owned it.

  His bracelets were warm on his wrists.

  Comforting.

  If you didn’t know better.

  He swung his legs off the bed.

  Stood.

  Stretched.

  Smiled.

  And the smile was wrong.

  Outside the chamber, the corridor was quiet.

  Not peaceful.

  Cautious.

  Guards looked at him and looked away.

  Servants bowed too fast.

  Derpy—Sinister Derpy—walked like he belonged there.

  Like he’d been there longer than the palace.

  When he reached the sitting room, they were already waiting.

  Lenora.

  Lewd.

  Queen Vaeloria.

  Amy.

  Lyn.

  The air between them was tight.

  Not with anger.

  With recognition.

  Lenora’s gaze hit his face and didn’t flinch.

  Her ears twitched once.

  A leader measuring a threat.

  Lewd’s fingers wrapped around sphinx like she didn’t know whether to defend Derpy or defend herself from him.

  Vaeloria’s posture was composed.

  But her eyes were sharp enough to cut.

  Amy’s jaw was set.

  Lyn’s expression was controlled, but her hand was already half a step closer to the door—like she’d mapped exits the moment he walked in.

  Derpy’s smile widened.

  Wrong.

  “Oh,” he said pleasantly.

  “You can all tell.”

  No one answered.

  He didn’t need them to.

  He moved to the table and sat like this was a meeting he’d scheduled.

  “I’m not here to break anything,” he said.

  “And I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Lewd’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s a weird way to start,” she said.

  Derpy tilted his head.

  “It’s a necessary way,” he replied.

  Vaeloria’s voice was smooth.

  “Where is Derpy?”

  Derpy’s smile didn’t move.

  “Resting,” he said.

  “Processing.”

  “Trying very hard not to drown.”

  Lenora’s gaze hardened.

  “And you?”

  Derpy’s bracelets warmed.

  He looked down at them like they were old friends.

  “I’m the part of him that doesn’t ask permission to survive,” he said.

  The knock came before anyone could speak again.

  Soft.

  Careful.

  A palace knock.

  Mk3 stepped in.

  She didn’t look at Derpy first.

  She looked at Vaeloria.

  Then she bowed—stiff, imperfect, like she hated the motion.

  “My Queen,” Mk3 said.

  Vaeloria’s eyes didn’t leave Derpy.

  “Speak,” she said.

  Mk3’s gaze flicked to Derpy’s face.

  To the wrong smile.

  Then away.

  “It happened during the nights,” Mk3 said quietly.

  “The one you call Derpy… spoke to himself.”

  Lewd’s breath caught.

  Mk3 continued.

  “Not madness,” she said.

  “Negotiation.”

  Lenora’s ears twitched again.

  “Negotiation with what?” she asked.

  Mk3’s voice went flatter.

  “With the other presence,” she said.

  “The one that watches.”

  Vaeloria’s fingers tightened on the arm of her chair.

  “What did he offer?” she asked.

  Mk3 hesitated.

  Then said it anyway.

  “He offered peace,” she said.

  “And the other one accepted.”

  Derpy’s smile sharpened.

  “See?” he said softly.

  “He meant well.”

  sinister Derpy reached into the space beside him.

  Not a pocket.

  Not a bag.

  Just… a decision.

  Lewd’s Blight Vain calamity book appeared in his hand.

  He set it on the table and slid it toward her.

  “I’m giving this back,” he said.

  Lewd didn’t touch it.

  “That’s not your call,” she said.

  Derpy’s head tilted.

  “It is,” he replied.

  Lewd’s eyes flashed.

  “No,” she said, voice tight. “It’s Derpy’s call.”

  Derpy’s smile didn’t change.

  “This is my body just as much as it is his,” he said.

  The words landed heavy.

  Not because they were loud.

  Because they were true in the worst way.

  “I don’t need it,” he continued, tapping the cover once.

  “I’ll be fine without it.”

  Lewd’s hands clenched.

  “You don’t get to decide what he needs,” she said.

  Derpy leaned back.

  “Then you don’t get to decide which part of him is allowed to exist,” he said.

  Silence.

  Vaeloria’s voice cut through it.

  “Why now?” she asked.

  Derpy’s gaze slid to her.

  “Because you’re all still pretending peace is possible,” he said.

  “And I’m done pretending.”

  He folded his hands like a polite guest.

  “The Elven War Council,” he said.

  “The War Office.”

  He spoke the titles like he’d already memorized their teeth.

  “They still see him as a monster,” he said.

  “Even after he tried to resolve things peacefully.”

  Amy’s expression tightened.

  Lyn’s eyes narrowed.

  Vaeloria’s face stayed composed, but the air around her felt colder.

  Derpy’s bracelets warmed again.

  He looked at Lenora.

  “At you,” he said.

  “At Lewd.”

  “At Vaeloria.

  “At Amy.

  At Lyn.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be in control,” he said.

  His smile flickered.

  Wrong.

  “But you should know this,” he continued.

  “I will cause destruction.”

  Lewd’s breath hitched.

  Lenora didn’t move.

  Vaeloria’s eyes sharpened.

  Derpy’s voice stayed calm.

  Almost kind.

  “Derpy made me promise not to hurt you,” he said.

  “And I will keep that promise.”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “But I can’t promise you’ll like what I do to everyone else.”

  As if the palace had been listening, there was another knock.

  Harder.

  Official.

  A War Office knock.

  Vaeloria’s gaze snapped to the door.

  Derpy’s bracelets warmed—warning, warning, warning.

  Lenora stood.

  Lewd’s hand hovered near her book.

  Amy’s jaw set.

  Lyn moved half a step, already positioning.

  Derpy smiled.

  Wrong.

  “Ah,” he said softly.

  “Here it is.”

  The door began to open.