Meanwhile,

Aria

The air inside the Blackwood Spire was thick, tasting of stale sulfur and static electricity. As we descended into the second floor, the violet mist grew dense, swirling around our ankles like a living thing.

Suddenly, my head throbbed.

“Please, Julian, not the dark. I’ll be good. I’ll wear the dress you like...”

The voice wasn't mine - not the real me, not Agent Zero. it was a trickle of the original Aria’s memory, a phantom echo of the trauma she’d suffered when the Prince had first tested her "worth" in the Luna Labyrinth. I saw a flash of a cold, stone cell and felt the phantom sting...