Chapter 23: Delpine

They arrived with the dawn.

There was no announcement. No horns. No dramatic sweep of banners. Just a sleek, black-enamel carriage gliding up the mountain path, drawn by two silver-eyed horses that didn’t spook at the castle’s presence. A pair of mounted guards followed behind it, their armor etched with the understated elegance of High Council work—unornamented, but undeniably powerful. Everything about them was controlled, disciplined. Designed not to impress, but to remind.

This wasn’t a delegation.

It was an audit.

And it had come for me.

The envoy who stepped out of the carriage did so without hesitation. Her robes were violet so deep they almost looked black in the pale morning light. Her sleeves were embroidered with faint ward lines, the kind that didn’t glow unless triggered. Her dark hair was braided into a loop at the crown of her head, secured with a single obsidian pin.

She didn’t bow.

She didn’t look around.

She walked straight through the castle gates with the authority of someone who had never once questioned her right to enter dangerous places.

High Council Auditor Nerisse.

I had heard her name before I ever saw her. Theron had mentioned her only once, and the look on his face had told me everything I needed to know. She was a precision instrument—razor-sharp, politically untouchable, and terrifying in how rarely she showed emotion.

The moment she crossed the threshold, I felt the change in the castle.

It wasn’t visible. There was no tremor in the stone, no flicker of lantern light. But the air shifted—like pressure settling in the wrong places. Like the castle, for the first time in weeks, was uncertain. Or worse, displeased.

I stood with Theron at the edge of the receiving hall. He was stone-faced, arms behind his back, dressed in the long black coat he wore when he needed to look more like a ruler than a man. Valesa stood at a discreet distance near the wall, quiet and watching, but I could feel her magic taut beneath the surface.

None of us moved until Nerisse stopped six paces in front of us and spoke.

“Lord Valemont. Miss Ashwood.” Her voice was clear, calm, and utterly devoid of anything that could be mistaken for warmth.

I inclined my head—not a bow, just a respectful acknowledgment. Theron didn’t so much as blink.

“I’m here to observe the status of the contracted work,” she continued. “To verify the structural integrity of Castle Thorne and its protective systems, and to assess any aberrations in magical climate since your arrival.”

Her eyes flicked to me then, dark and exacting. “And, if necessary, to determine whether your continued presence is a benefit—or a liability.”

The words were evenly spoken. Professional. And yet, beneath them, I heard what she was really saying.

We’re here to see if we need to remove you.

I didn’t flinch. “Then I suppose you’ll be wanting a tour.”

Nerisse’s lips barely moved, but there was the faintest shift in her expression. It might have been approval.

“Precisely.”

---

The castle didn’t like her.

I could feel it with every step we took. Doors that normally opened with a flicker of thought were slower now, reluctant. The walls held their breath. Even the temperature felt cooler in places, like the rooms themselves were drawing away.

We moved in silence, our path winding through the central wing and along the outer halls. Theron walked to Nerisse’s left, his presence steady but cold. I stayed just a step behind on her right. Valesa followed at a quiet distance, eyes alert, magic low but active.

No one spoke.

But the castle responded.

Not violently. Not obviously. But intentionally.

Corridors twisted just slightly. A doorway that once led to the eastern tower now opened into an upper gallery. Mirrors shifted their reflections. Hallways shortened or extended by degrees so subtle that only someone who had walked them a hundred times would notice.

I noticed.

So did Nerisse.

She didn’t comment. But I saw her pause once, briefly, as we passed the hallway that led to the annex.

“This room was sealed,” she said, pausing at the threshold.

“It opened last week,” I replied.

“Convenient,” she murmured.

I didn’t bother hiding the edge in my voice. “Unavoidable.”

Nerisse stepped inside.

She didn’t touch anything. She moved through the annex like a shadow, her eyes sweeping the worktable, the parchment diagrams, the flickering leyline threads I hadn’t had time to clean up. She studied the markings—my markings—and the echo of magic in the air.

She paused at the center of the table. Her fingers hovered just above the sheet bearing the vault’s schematic—the one that now bore my name, scrawled in blood-colored ink I had never consciously written. The seal pulse beneath it hummed softly as she lingered near.

Her head turned toward me. “You’ve become... integrated.”

“I’ve done my job,” I replied. “And I’ve gone further. Because the job required more than anyone expected.”

“You’ve aligned with the castle’s energy signature,” she said, almost clinical. “That level of synchronization is extremely rare. And extremely unstable.”

“It’s not unstable,” I said evenly. “It’s just no longer passive.”

She looked at my arm—though I hadn’t shown it, the sleeve no longer concealed the faint glow beneath the fabric.

“The mark?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

“You know what happens to witches who let a living system bind to them.”

“Yes,” I said. “They die. Or they evolve.”

Nerisse stepped closer. Her expression never changed, but I could feel her watching everything. Measuring not just what I said, but how the castle reacted to me. How it held the space open when I entered. How it wrapped its silence around me instead of resisting.

“And which do you intend to become?”

I met her gaze. “Whichever survives.”

For the first time, she paused.

Not visibly shaken. Just uncertain. For someone like Nerisse, that was a victory.

She turned back toward the hallway.

“I’ll need access to the vault,” she said.

“No,” Theron said behind me, his voice quiet and absolute.

Nerisse turned. “I wasn’t asking.”

I stepped between them before he could say more.

“You’ll get your inspection,” I said. “But the vault answers to me now. It opens for me. Not for you.”

There was a moment of silence that stretched longer than it should have.

Beneath my feet, I felt the faintest pulse from the stone.

Acknowledgment.

Possession.

The castle had heard me.

And it agreed.

Nerisse studied me one last time, her gaze steady.

“For now,” she said.

Then she turned and walked away.