—Silence.
Jacob gasped, his hands flying to his unmarked face. No scars. No blood. He stood in the Blackwood ballroom, its marble floors pristine, its chandeliers glittering. Guests in exquisite masks murmured politely as a waltz played.
Across the room, Eleanor smiled at him from behind a flawless porcelain mask. No cracks. No void. Her emerald gown rustled as she offered her hand.
"Welcome home," she said.
Between them on the floor lay the key—cleaned of rust, its teeth gleaming like new silver.
Jacob's pulse hammered. This was the Crow's final trick. A perfect loop. Take Eleanor's hand, and the cycle would begin anew, everyone blissfully ignorant.
He bent to retrieve the key instead.
The moment his fingers closed around it, the ballroom froze. The musicians held their notes too long. The dancers hovered mid-step. Eleanor's mask split down the middle, revealing not a void, but—
Emily's face.
Not the monstrous version. Just a little girl, her cheeks round, her eyes wide with fear.
"You remember now," she whispered.
The walls dissolved, revealing the truth—they stood in the ruins of the original Blackwood manor, its stones blackened by centuries of fires. The other guests were skeletons in rotting finery, their masks fused to their skulls.
Emily took Jacob's hand. Her skin was warm. Alive.
"It's time to finish it," she said, leading him toward the crumbling hearth.
Beneath the soot, the original ritual circle remained visible—a child's clumsy drawing of a bird, its wings outstretched to form a summoning sigil. The same one now pulsed on Jacob's forearm.
Emily pressed his palm against the stone.
"Break the circle," she urged. "And take back what you gave."
Jacob hesitated. "I'll die."
"Yes."
"And you?"
Emily's smile was heartbreaking. "I died a long time ago."
The key grew hot in Jacob's other hand. He understood now—it wasn't a tool, but a promise. The first thing he'd ever stolen. The only thing that could end this.
He drove the key into the hearth.
Stone cracked. The sigil on his arm burned away. Emily's form flickered—first a child, then a crow, then a wisp of smoke that curled around his shoulders like a hug.
The skeletons collapsed. The masks shattered.
And Jacob finally saw the Crow's true face—
Not a monster.
Just a little girl who wanted to go home.
As the fire took him, he held out his hand.
She took it.
And together, they stepped into the light.