Rain traced thin lines down the windowpane, soft and endless, muting the city’s chaos outside. The Vervain Parlor sat in near silence—its velvet curtains drawn, candles flickering against walls scented with herbs and dust. You’d built this place to disappear, a shadow within the Barrel’s underbelly. That was how Grisha survived now—hidden, forgotten. Especially ones like you. Especially a shadow summoner.

The door creaked open. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That sharp, deliberate tap of a cane was unmistakable.

“Kaz Brekker,” you murmured, fingers stilling over the tray of crushed vervain. “Of all the ghosts in Ketterdam, I didn’t expect yours.”

He stepped in, black coat dripping rain onto your floorboards, eyes taking in every inch of your sanctuary. Inej slipped in after him—quiet as smoke—and Jesper followed, hands shoved into his pockets alongside Wylan. Behind them came Nina, gaze steady and unreadable and Matthias behind her.

Kaz’s attention returned to you. “You’ve done well keeping yourself hidden.”

“That was the point.”

“I need your help.”

You let out a sharp breath. “No.”

“You haven’t heard the job.”

“I don’t need to. If you’re here, it’s bloodshed. I’m done with that.”

Jesper leaned against the doorframe, tone light. “Technically, you were never really in it.”

Kaz’s gloved hand tightened on his cane. “We’re not after another gang. There’s a scientist locked away in the Ice Court—Bo Yul-Bayur. He’s creating something called jurda parem.”

The name alone sent a chill through you. “I’ve heard whispers.”

“They’re not whispers anymore,” Nina said quietly. “It amplifies Grisha power. Twists it. Turns us into something else.”

Your throat went dry. “And you want me to what—join your suicide mission?”

Kaz’s gaze sharpened. “If that drug spreads, every Grisha alive will be hunted or used. You know what that means.”

You did. You’d seen what greed could do. What men would pay for power like yours.

“You want me because I’m a shadow summoner,” you said. “Because I can hide you.”

Kaz didn’t deny it. “Because you’re the only one who can.”

You shook your head, stepping back toward the counter. “You’ve finally gone mad.”

Jesper gave a short laugh. “Told you people say that a lot.”

Kaz ignored him. “You can keep pretending to be safe here, tucked behind candles and curtains. But jurda parem won’t stop at Ravka or Fjerda—it’ll find Ketterdam, too. It’ll find you.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. Outside, thunder rolled low over the harbor.

“I’ve been caught in schemes before, Kaz,” you said quietly. “Every one of them ended with someone bleeding out in the street. I won’t be dragged into that again.”

His eyes didn’t waver. “You won’t have to. You’ll be there to make sure the rest of us don’t.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Inej stood silently beside him, gaze soft but steady. Nina’s hand brushed yours briefly, a silent offer of understanding.

Finally, you sighed, the fight slipping from your shoulders. “If I say yes—no killing. No senseless blood on my hands.”

Kaz’s expression was unreadable, though something flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe. “Then you’d better keep us alive, Shadow.”

You looked toward the rain-drenched window, the city’s lights blurring beyond it. You’d spent years trying to outrun the darkness inside you. But somehow, Kaz Brekker had found a way to drag it back into the light.

“Saints,” you muttered. “You really have gone mad.”

Kaz’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Madness built this city. It might just save it, too.”

You hesitated—then reached for your coat, the weight of it familiar, heavy with memory. The room was too quiet, the air too still, as you crossed to him.

“If this goes wrong,” you warned, voice low, “I’ll haunt you.”

Kaz’s gaze met yours, cold and sharp as steel. “Get in line.”

And with that, the door closed behind you, the candlelight flickering out as the rain swallowed the sound of your footsteps.