Page 157 of Heart Cradle

Maldrin shifted. “That’s not... that’s not how it worked before. They always had it stored in a vault”

“No.” Vargen’s voice was glass-smooth. “Before, it was a relic. A symbol, now it’s a living fucking extension of her.”

Gorrath snorted. “Maybe it’s binding her, leashing her.”

Vrel tilted his head. “Or choosing her.”

“She’s human,” Gorrath growled. “It’s a fae artefact, the thing shouldn’t even respond to her, hopefully it kills her.”

“Yes, she shouldn’t still be alive,” Maldrin muttered. “And yet...”

Vargen moved away from the fire. “Most of the scouts are gone,” he said. “Skelds have no fucking impact. Jenveld is missing. Forty-fivethousand soldiers, obliterated. The meeting area has been cleansed, not even a scorch mark.”

“No trace?” Petra asked.

“None,” Maldrin said. “Branched wards, intent-magic wipe. They’ve copied our techniques from the villages.”

Gorrath grunted. “Fuck, it must be the Spellweaver.”

“Is it?” Vargen asked, voice dangerous. “Or is it the royals and those bloody dragons!”

Vrel’s claws tapped once. Twice. “The Chain is active. It doesn’t pulse as before, it’s holding. Constantly.”

“Feeding her?” Maldrin asked. “Or following her?”

“We should have struck Elanthir,” Gorrath muttered. “When we still had Davmon. When we still had a chance to break them.”

Petra’s eyes turned to ice. “Davmon is dead.”

“No proof of that,” Maldrin said quickly. “Just silence, maybe he’s being held.”

“Maybe he ran like his sister, that cunt should’ve been Chained when we had her. You should’ve bound Aeilanna too.” Gorrath spat. “Made the treaty binding, been gifted a dragon. Killed your way to the throne, kept Melrathen from slipping…”

He didn’t finish.

Vargen moved. One hand shot out, smooth and unhurried, pressing flat over Gorrath’s mouth. Magic poured from his palm, black, tar-like, pulsing slow and thick like blood that had curdled in the dark. Gorrath stiffened. His back arched and his eyes bulged wide, whites swallowed by spreading black as the magic burrowed into his skull. Veins swelled around them, fat and unnatural. His throat swelled, fingers clawed uselessly at Vargen’s wrist, nails cracking and skin blistering at the edges.

Vargen leaned in, voice soft, intimate. “I will not be corrected by a filthy fucking creature like you.”

The orc gurgled against the magic, blood foamed between his teeth. When Vargen finally released him, Gorrath dropped, gasping, his face blistered and streaked with black. He staggered, eyes still swollen, sightless, but trying to breathe. Gorrath was coughing smoke and barely made it two paces before Vargen seized him by the collar throwing him to the floor.

“Correct yourself Orc, now!” Vargen growled.

Gorrath breathed. “Get fucked!“

Vargen snarled and then threw Gorrath into the fire and his scream tore the chamber open, the others did not react and the flames did the rest. When Vargen turned back, his voice was quiet. Even. “Anyone else with insight into my political failings?”

Maldrin bowed his head, Petra smiled and Vrel lowered his wings.

After a beat, Petra said softly, “If she wears it constantly, we don’t know it’s capabilities. She already ended the skeld.”

Maldrin added, “We knew the Chain could guide, but to tie like this… to stay…”

“She’s not just a bearer,” Vrel murmured. “She could be a conduit, maybe becoming something else.”

Vargen stood still, letting the heat of the burning body brush his spine. He smiled, slow and sharp. “Let her glow, let her shine. The brighter the flame, the more glorious the guttering dark.”