Osin took a moment. His fingers tapped lightly on his desk, the sound echoing eerily through the grand chamber. “That won’t be necessary,” he ordered coolly. “Proceed with your account.”
The Hunter stood, his voice clipped as he recounted the chase. His words painted a vivid picture of her—desperate, fleeting—detailing not just his hunt but her betrayal, her collusion with the rebels. “It was one of your units that caught up to her, halting her at the boundary before she could cross the western border.”
Elara shivered at the memory.Oneof his units?
The silence was oppressive, a heavy curtain that Elara didn't dare disturb by looking up to gauge Osin's reaction.Time seemed to slow—first one beat, then another—before Osin finally stood. His cloak whispered around him as he circled his desk.
Elara exhaled slowly as his black, polished shoes halted before her, pressing lightly against the sweep of her gown.
“When, Hallowed, did the secure life I provided become sotiresomefor you?” His words slid out smoothly, each syllable tinged with dangerous calm, and Elara fought the urge to shiver. “Look at me!”
Her head jerked up and a cruel smirk curled his lips, a stray lock of blonde hair tumbling into his eyes as he leaned forward. “Do you fancy yourself untouchable? That your life holdssuchvalue to me that you may disregard my authority with impunity?”
Elara had been in this position many times in her life—kneeling before the Lord Sovereign, close enough to feel the chill of the Void curling around his fingers.But his eyes.Never before had such venom flickered in those depths. She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as his thumb traced her lower lip.
“What shall I do with you now?” he mused. “Sending you back to the Druids is out of the question—not after they’ve proven themselves utterly incompetent. The High Priest, it seems, is incapable of handling even the simplest of tasks.”
He paused, casting a thoughtful glance at the Hunter before returning his gaze to her. “Perhaps I should keep you here among my collection of treasures. Hang you like a tapestry to be drawn upon whenever the whim strikes.” His thumb pressed harder, pulling at her lip ever so slightly before releasing her. “I could even arrange viewings, charge the devout a handsome fee to witness your beauty up close. And for those willing to pay a premium... more intimate interactions could be arranged.” He smiled. “It could provequiteprofitable.”
Elara’s gaze dropped to the floor. Shame coiled hot in her chest.
Without another word, Osin walked to his desk, the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor jarring in the quiet room. “Sit,” he commanded, positioning it right in front of her.
Elara pushed herself off the floor, her legs feeling weak as she sank into the seat.
“Now, tell me, pet,” Osin drawled, leaning back against his desk, arms crossing over his chest. “How did a little thing like you manage to slip past my wards?”
Elara pressed her lips into a thin line, fists curling at her sides. She wouldn’t speak. She’d sooner swallow her tongue than play the informant.
Osin chuckled, dark and sinister, raising the fine hairs at the back of her neck. “You realize, of course, that I could simply take what I want from you.” His smirk twisted into something almost feral as his gaze flicked to the Hunter, a silent command passing between them, before returning to her. “I had hoped for a display of loyalty from you, but now I see that was expecting too much.”
It took every ounce of her strength not to tremble when the Hunter appeared behind her, his presence overwhelming. His hands closed on her shoulders and yanked her from the chair with a force that stole her breath.
“Keep her still,” Osin said, and the Hunter’s calloused fingers clamped down, his armor biting into her back as he caged her in.
Tension radiated through Elara’s frame, drawn out as Osin savored it like the slow pour of a dark, rich wine. A shadow crossed the blue of his eyes as he stepped closer. His hand dropped to the sheath at his side. When the dagger slid free, dread jolted through her.
The blade pulsed with golden light, sunlight forged into something lethal—an ancient relic humming with the weight of history.
“Now,” he purred with cold delight, “what mischief have you wrought upon my faithful?”
Elara ground her teeth as the blade bit into her arm, a low groan tearing free while she locked her gaze on the wound. As the dagger pressed deeper, it wasn’t just steel she felt—shadows bled out like smoke, twisting and coiling, slithering into the cut.
Then, the pain hit—searing,brutal—ripping a scream from her throat.
She struggled against the Hunter, but he didn’t yield. A broken sound scraped up her throat, crushed behind clenched teeth, every breath a fight. Cold seeped into her veins—unbearable, invasive—but it wasn’t only chill. It burned as it spread, a merciless frost sinking deep, stealing sensation nerve by nerve.
Elara trembled, her lips forming words she couldn’t voice. When she finally dared to look down,herskin... it was tinged with blue. But the sight didn’t stir anything in her. She couldn’t even bring herself to care. All that filled her was emptiness, a hollow void. And it was a relief—such a sweet, bloody relief—to finally feel calm.
She stepped into the numbness, the last of her resistance gone.
“You’re killing her,” she vaguely heard the Hunter say, his voice a distant echo. She couldn’t feel his hands on her anymore, couldn’t feel much of anything except for the shadows. They drifted within her, searching, probing, until they gathered near her chest, lingering there as if they were peeling back the layers of her soul, one by one, examining each piece.
“Fascinating,” Osin murmured, his gaze drifting over her with a detached curiosity before he pulled his shadows back.Slowly, she felt a touch of warmth. Hands on her face, calluses scratching her cheeks. “Ivan,” Osin said, and behind her, she felt the Hunter tense, his hands quickly pulling away.
Ivan.Elara's mind whispered through the cold, latching onto the name.Ivan. Ivan. His name is Ivan.Her body slumped against his frame, tears rolling down her cheeks as a memory flickered to life like a candle in the dark.
“Ivan,” a girl's sneer echoed from the past, as they watched from the sidelines of the court.“He tripped Lord Artan’s daughter on purpose at the last gathering. Just hooked his foot around hers when no one was looking. Sent her sprawling into the mud.”She had snickered, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.“Thinks he’s too high and mighty, just because he’s the king’s shadow.”
