"You are she," Xavier said, and the hall stilled. A single clear chord from the soul-bell on the dais hung in the air like a verdict. Quarry light caught on obsidian—black as old ink—and the court leaned in, as if the Underlord's breath alone could shape fate. Quinn Rivers stood where the judges had placed her, palms folded because there was nowhere else to put them. Her Soul Talisman lay at her throat, a pearl threaded on silver wire; it pulsed faintly, warm against her collarbone. For a moment she let the warmth answer her like an old lover. The captain at Xavier's right announced the lineage: "From the registers—past life marked, signature keyed. The Lady Alin—rebound." Voices approved. Shades bowed. A medic-ghost adjusted a ledger and smiled with hollow teeth. Quinn felt the room tilt toward her. Adoration rolled like tidewater—eyes, bows, murmurs. Being named "the one" by Xavier Kai was not small. It was everything. "Xavier Kai," someone whispered, and the name rippled through the hall as if it were a wave. Quinn's ribs loosened. She had survived the Eighteen Hells before; she had come out scrubbed and stubborn. Being chosen—claimed—let centuries fall away. For a breath she was lifted. For a breath she believed she belonged. Then the sedan creaked. It arrived like a painted toy: lacquered, silk tassels sniffed by the air, and Lily Song stepped into the hall as if she had been