“No. Look.”
Insects were already investigating the flowers. Life returning to dead wood and old bone.
“You didn’t destroy,” I said, watching the insects investigate her gruesome garden. “You transformed it. Gave something twisted a chance to become something useful. That’s rare.”
She looked at me sharply, suspicion clear in her eyes. “I thought you believed I was an abomination.”
“I believe you’re dangerous. That’s entirely different from being an abomination.” I tilted my head, studying the flowers still blooming from bone and wood. “Abominations are mistakes. You’re something the realm chose deliberately. I may not like what that means for me, but I can admit when something is well-crafted, even if it’s inconvenient.”
Before she could respond to that—and I could see she wanted to, probably with something cutting—more movement rippled through the undergrowth. Three more constructs emerged, and they’d clearly learned from their companion’s spectacular death. They moved with caution now, coordinating their approach.
“Shit,” Elle breathed.
“Really? We’re fighting plant-bone nightmares and you’re going with ‘shit’ as your battle cry?” I shook my head. “Standards remain regardless of circumstances, Elle. If you’re going to swear at monsters, at least be creative about it.”
“You’re critiquing my language right now?”
“I’m a believer in maintaining civilization even when surrounded by things that want to eat us. Call it a character flaw.” I watched the constructs circle, calculating angles and weaknesses. “Also, it annoys you, which makes this significantly more entertaining for me.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I prefer ‘consistent.’ Now stop complaining and get ready—these ones look smarter than the first.” I gestured with my blade. “Back to back. And try not to stab me with those thorns of yours. Friendly fire is embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Elle pressed against me without hesitation. I ignored how her warmth felt through our clothes, how her marks hummed against my corruption.
“On three,” I said.
“Three what?”
“One… two… three.”
They attacked simultaneously. I let my corruption free—black rot spreading from my strikes, wasteful but necessary. Elle was learning, growing targeted vines instead of wild thorns, specific plants instead of random flowers.
But the third construct was smarter. It got past her defenses, claws raking her shoulder. Blood—red with gold threads—stained her tunic.
Rage, instant and absolute.
I moved without thought, corruption exploding in waves of decay. The construct didn’t just die—it rotted to dust.
“Kaelren,” Elle gasped.
I was still flooding the area with corruption. Trees withering, plants dying, air becoming toxic. I pulled back, but a circle of death surrounded us, everything within ten feet reduced to black rot.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, focusing on her shoulder.
“I’ll live.” She stared at the dead circle. “You killed everything.”
“You were injured.”
“So you committed botanical genocide?”
“It seemed efficient.”
She laughed, slightly hysterical. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
I reached for her shoulder, then stopped. “May I?”
