And Isara hadn’t pieced it together yet. He saw it in the way her brows drew in confusion.
But Darian was watching Xyliria like he knew he was already dead.
Xyliria turned back to them, all honeyed cruelty. “One of them will die today,” she said, casual as air. “The wild warrior, or the feral little girl.” She gestured between them. “You’ll pick, darling. That’s the test. Simple, really.”
Isara’s body locked. “No.”
“No?” Xyliria’s voice was almost tender.
“I won’t choose,” Isara said. “You can kill me if you want. But I won’t be part of this.”
Xyliria smiled. It was the kind of smile Ashterion had learned to fear more than any scream.
“Oh, sweet thing,” she murmured. “You misunderstand.”
She moved faster than any of them could react. A fist in Darian’s hair. Yanked his head back. A curved dagger appeared in her other hand. She pressed it to his throat, not quite drawing blood. Not yet.
Ashterion didn’t move. Not because he didn’t want to. Becausehe couldn’t.Xyliria’s power tore through him, holding him in place.
“If you don’t choose,” she said, “I’ll bleed him out slowly.” She tapped the knife lightly against his skin, right beneath the jaw. “Until he’s begging for death.”
Ashterion could see the fury burning in Darian’s eyes. And the fear underneath it.
“And when he’s done,” Xyliria continued, tone bright and conversational, “I’ll bring the next one of your foolish attachments up.”
Isara flinched.
“I’ll keep going,” Xyliria said, drawing the blade lightly along Darian’s skin, not enough to cut, but enough to make him tense. “And going. Until you choose.”
She let the words settle.
Ashterion looked at Isara. She was trembling. Her gaze locked on the girl, wide-eyed and shivering.
Don’t do it,he thought.Don’t choose. Don’t become like me.
But he knew.
Isara’s fists clenched at her sides.
“I won’t,” she said again, breath catching. “I won’t choose.”
Still trying. Still fighting. Still clinging to some notion of control.
Ashterion could feel it slipping from her already.
Xyliria sighed, long and theatrical. “Very well.”
She turned the blade in her hand and, with a movement so delicate it was almost graceful, dragged it across Darian’s shoulder.
The wet sound it made cut straight through the silence.
Darian grunted but didn’t cry out. His shirt darkened instantly, blood soaking into the fabric.
“Wait,” Isara choked.
She took a step forward. Then another. Her body moved like it didn’t quite belong to her anymore.
“I’ll choose,” she whispered.
