As the temple procession departed, the Corven household exhaled in unison. Helena sagged against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest as if to still her racing heart. Lyanna lingered near the door, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Matthias clapped Elias on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble.

"Well done, boy," he said, though his voice was tight. "You’ve bought us time."

Elias looked up at him. "Time for what?"

Matthias’s grip tightened, just for a second. "To figure out what the hells is wrong with you."

The words hit Elias like a slap. He jerked back, but Matthias’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist hard enough to bruise.

"Not here," Matthias hissed. "In my study. Now."

He didn’t wait for a response, striding toward the back of the house with the expectation of obedience. Elias followed, his mind racing. He knows. Somehow, he knows.

Matthias’s study was a room of dark wood and polished mirrors, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and something metallic, like old blood. The moment the door closed, Matthias rounded on him, his face twisted with something between fury and fear.

"What did you do?" he demanded, his voice low and venomous. "Three days ago, you were half-dead. Now you’re standing there like a stranger in your own skin, reciting the Verses like you’ve never heard them before, flinching at the names of the Perturbations like they’re curses. What. Did. You. Do."

Elias' throat went dry. He had expected suspicion, but not this—this raw, desperate anger. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Matthias’s hand lashed out, gripping the front of the tunic and slamming him against the wall. A mirror behind rattled in its frame, the reflection of his face fracturing in the glass.

"Don’t lie to me, boy," Matthias snarled. "I’ve spent twenty years building this house, this name, this legacy. And now you’re going to ruin it with whatever this is." He shook Elias hard enough to make his teeth clack together. "Did you make a deal? Did you call on something? Answer me."

Elias’ mind raced. He could deny it. He could play the part of the confused, recovered son. But Matthias wasn’t a fool. He had seen something. Felt something. And if Elias lied now, he would only dig himself deeper.

"I don’t know what happened," Elias said, his voice steady despite the hammering of his heart. "I remember being sick. I remember... dreaming. And then I woke up, and everything was different."

Matthias’s grip loosened slightly, though his expression remained skeptical. "Different how?"

Elias hesitated. He couldn’t tell Matthias the truth—not all of it. But he needed to give him something.

"I remember things that aren’t mine," he said slowly. "Memories. Of a place that isn’t here. Of a life that isn’t mine."

Matthias’s face paled. "You’re possessed."

"No," Elias said quickly. "Not possessed. Just... lost."

Matthias released him abruptly, stepping back as if his son had suddenly become contagious. He ran a hand over his face, his breath coming fast. "This is worse than I thought."

Elias straightened his tunic, his fingers trembling. "What do you mean?"

Matthias didn’t answer at first. He paced the length of the room, his boots clicking against the wooden floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, urgent.

"You’re not the first."

Elias froze. "The first what?"

Matthias stopped pacing and turned to face him, his expression grim. "The first to come back wrong."

A chill ran down his spine. "What are you talking about?"

Matthias exhaled sharply. "Five years ago, blacksmith's daughter fell ill with the same fever. She was twelve. Bright girl. Devout. They thought she was going to die." He looked at Elias, his eyes dark. "She didn’t. She woke up few days later, just like you. But she wasn’t herself anymore."

Elias’ pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

Matthias’s jaw tightened. "She remembered things. Places. Names. Things she couldn’t possibly have known. She talked about a world where the Goddess didn’t exist. Where the sky was blue." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Where the moon wasn’t broken."

Elias’ breath caught. Blue. The sky in his memories—the sky of his real world—had been blue. Not the pale, sickly gray of this place, but a deep, vibrant blue, like the ocean on a clear day.

Matthias’s voice pulled him back. "They took her to the temple. Said she was touched by the Perturbations. Said she needed to be cleansed." His hands clenched into fists. "She never came back."

Elias’ stomach twisted. "You think that’s what’s happening to me."

Matthias’s gaze was unflinching. "I think you’re lucky the High Inquisitor didn’t drag you out of here today. I think you’re lucky I’ve spent twenty years greasing the right palms and saying the right prayers to keep this family safe. And I think," he said, stepping closer, his voice a low growl, "that if you don’t figure out how to fix this, they’re going to take you too. And this time, I won’t be able to stop them."

Elias swallowed hard. The weight of Matthias’s words settled over him like a shroud. He had thought his greatest challenge would be adjusting to this new body, this new world. But now he realized the truth was far more dangerous.

He wasn’t just a man out of place.

He was a man out of place and time.