Fenric spat blood onto the pristine marble floor. Xyliria’s smirk widened.
“And you,” she purred, stepping toward Varyth. “Your little court will be so lost without you, won’t they?”
Varyth said nothing. Xyliria crouched before him, running a single nail beneath his chin, angling his face to look at her.
“Shall we make a deal?” she offered, sweet as poisoned honey.
Silence.
A slow, dangerous smirk from Varyth. “You can go to hell.”
Xyliria sighed dramatically, as if he were a petulant child who refused to behave. “Tsk, tsk.”
Something slammed into me. No, not something.Everything. The world itself, crushing my ribs, splitting me open.
I gritted my teeth. I would not give her the satisfaction.
But it tore through me. My bones were splintering, my skin peeling away in ribbons, my veins burning from the inside out.
A scream broke free.
Xyliria’s laugh was musical, delighted. Her hand lifted, and the pain intensified, white-hot agony that turned my vision to static.
The others sounded far away. I knew they were roaring, screaming, cursing. But I couldn’t focus on any of the words. Myhands twitched, clawed at the floor, at anything, trying to fight against the unbearable.
The world was slipping, slipping, slipping?—
“Stop!” The word cracked from Varyth. His chains rattled as he lunged forward. His silver eyes blazed so brightly they should have burned through Xyliria herself.
Xyliria’s smile widened at his desperation, and her magic surged deeper into me. The pain exploded beyond anything I’d ever imagined possible, as if she was unravelling me at a molecular level, pulling apart every nerve ending.
“Please,” Darian’s plea broke through the agony. “Please,you’re killing her.”
The crimson energy wrapped around my bones like molten wire, each pulse sending fresh waves of torment through my body.
“Enough.” Ashterion’s voice cut through the chaos.
The agony vanished so suddenly I collapsed forward, gasping. Blood splattered the marble beneath me. It sheeted from my nose, my mouth, copper flooding my throat as I retched and shuddered. My body felt like it had been turned inside out, every nerve screaming phantom pain.
“You’re being wasteful,” Ashterion said, his tone flat. “Dead she serves no purpose.”
Xyliria’s laugh tinkled through the hall. “Oh, my love, always so practical.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But you’re right, of course. We need her functional.”
My vision swam with black spots, and I could barely draw breath past the agony echoing through my bones. More blood filled my mouth, and I couldn’t stop the broken sobs that tore from my throat.
Xyliria merely sighed, looking down her nose at me as I whimpered on the cold floor.
Her gaze flicked lazily to the guards.
A simple gesture. A bored wave of her fingers.
“Take them away.” The words were casual, dismissive. But they were a noose tightening around my throat.
I was hauled forcefully to my feet. I stumbled, disoriented from the searing pain, but managed to keep my footing.
We were led down winding corridors, deeper into the bowels of the Nyxarian palace. With each descending step, the temperature dropped further, until a bone-deep chill settled over my skin, seeping into my marrow. The air turned damp and thick, pressing against me. Moss and mildew clung to the ancient stones, the scent of rot and decay hanging heavy in the oppressive silence.
Faint drips echoed in a rhythmic plink, plink, plink, water falling from cracks in the ceiling to pool on the slick, uneven floor. The shadows lengthened, stretching grotesquely across the walls in the weak torchlight. Everything about this place was forgotten, abandoned to darkness, to despair.
