"You let them touch you," he continued, and something harder entered his voice. "You let them hide you. Let them believe they could keep you." His eyes found Arion. "Did you enjoy playing the hero? Stealing from my hunt?"
"No one stole anything," Arion replied steadily. "We helped someone in need."
"You helped yourself to what wasn't yours."
The gap was wide enough now that Eliam could have stepped through. But he didn't. He stood at the threshold, letting them feel the futility of their protection.
Briar's mark pulsed again, and she pressed her hand hard against it. The thorns beneath her skin shifted, sending sharp pain up her arm. A reminder. A warning. A promise.
"She doesn't want to go with you," Ferria said from the shadows. "That should matter."
Eliam's gaze shifted to her, and the temperature plummeted.
The attack came without warning. Roots erupted from the sanctuary floor—not the gentle growth of nature, but violent, purposeful. Ferria barely had time to gasp before they wrapped around her ankles and yanked. She hit the ground hard, more roots racing up her body, binding her arms to her sides.
"Ferria!" Halian moved to help his sister, staff already glowing, but the floor beneath him turned treacherous. Wood became liquid, then solid again around his feet,trapping him mid-stride. He swung his staff down to shatter his bonds, but vines dropped from the ceiling, coiling around the weapon and ripping it from his grasp.
Sian reacted fastest, her form going liquid, trying to flow between the attacking roots. But Eliam raised one hand, and her water form suddenly crystallized. Not fully frozen, she was still conscious, still aware, but caught between states, unable to move, unable to flow, ice creeping through her veins just as he'd threatened.
"No!" Arion fired several arrows in rapid succession, each one burning with vibrant light.
Eliam didn't even look at him. The arrows struck an invisible barrier and dissolved, their light dying instantly. With a casual gesture, the wall behind Arion came alive. Branches burst through, wrapping around his torso, his bow arm, lifting him off the ground. The more he struggled, the tighter they constricted.
It had taken seconds. Four defenders, centuries of combined experience, and Eliam had neutralized them without moving from the threshold.
"Stop!" Briar lunged forward, but her legs tangled in creeping vines. "Please, stop!"
"Why?" Eliam asked conversationally, finally stepping through the gap. The sanctuary didn't resist him—it welcomed him, recognizing its true master. "They interrupted my hunt. Stole from me. Challenged my authority in my own domain." He moved to where Ferria lay bound, roots now covering everything but her face. "Did they think there wouldn't be consequences?"
Ferria's eyes were wide with pain and fury, but when she tried to speak, a tendril of wood grew across her mouth, silencing her.
"Let them go." Briar fought against the vines holding her legs, but they only tightened. "Please. I'll come with you. No resistance. No fighting. Just let them go."
"You'll come regardless." He moved to Halian next, who was now encased up to his chest in living wood. "The question is whether you come to serve a kind master or a cruel one."
Halian's face was turning red from the pressure. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. Enough to make breathing difficult.
"Please," Briar's voice cracked as she begged. "They were just trying to help me."
"Yes." Eliam examined Sian's partially frozen form with clinical interest. "And that's precisely the problem." He touched one finger to her crystallized cheek, and she made a sound—half gurgle, half scream. "Help. Such a simple word for such a complex betrayal."
Finally, he approached Arion, still suspended by branches that seemed to pulse with each of his struggling breaths. "And you. Playing hero again. Don't you learn?"
Arion's jaw was clenched, but he managed to speak through the pain. "Someone has to stand against you."
"Do they?" Eliam reached up, fingers trailing a path across Arion's throat. "And how's that working for you?"
The branches tightened. Arion's face contorted, a choked sound escaping him.
"Stop!" Briar was crying now, she realized. Tears streamed down her face as she watched these people who'd risked everything for her suffer. "I'll do anything. Please. Just stop hurting them."
Eliam turned to her then, and his expression was curious. "Anything?"
The mark flared hot on her wrist. A warning or encouragement, she couldn't tell.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Then come here." He extended his hand. "Willingly. No compulsion. No force. Choose to honor your bargain."
