He fought in a red, killing haze. The rut-fever sang in his blood, whispering for more violence to tear and rend until nothing stood between him and his mate…
Then, unending silence, broken by muffled sobs and sheer terror.
“There,” someone rasped. “How the fuck do we get behind it?”
Breathing hard, Race pivoted.
A shimmering veil concealed what could only be a chamber.
He strode across and, with his Gaian sword, ripped through the barrier. It sizzled and tried to reknit, but couldn’t. His mystical weapon was forged for destruction.
The veil collapsed.
Race froze.
“Gods above…” Koal rasped.
In a vast chamber, children were jammed into iron cages lining the walls on one side—no bedding, only foul straw slick with piss and old blood covered the floor. Their wrists and ankles were raw, skin split and bleeding. The air reeked of agony and hopelessness.
At the center of the chamber squatted the true obscenity.
A Soul Forge.
Set on a dais, its black iron ribs arched like a skeletal maw, every seam laced with veins of molten light. Four children were bound to it by metal cuffs attached to curved spikes driven into the stone—their eyes glassy, their skin pale as bone. Their thin chests rose and fell in shallow breaths; they could barely lift their heads.
Golden strands, the raw essence of their very souls, streamed from their hearts into the forge’s core, where the center pulsed like a diseased heartbeat.
Each beat drained more of their energy. A boy—a half-blood by his scent—moved his lips soundlessly as gold scales rippled across his dark skin. “Mama…”
For a second, they all stood frozen.
Rage stormed through Race as he strode forward.Thiswas what the bastard wanted from the young? Not mining, not labor, but this obscene harvesting of power?
What the fuck for?
Skaldr tore open the cages’ doors while Rhaedra knelt beside the nearest child, slicing through their restraints. Varkyn and Koal worked the cruel cuffs on the ones bound to the monstrosity, ripping them free as gently as possible.
“Get the children out of here,” Race snarled, his power crackling through his entire being and rattling the forge’s chains.
The Soul Forge shuddered, its glow flickering, aware and resisting as its meal was stolen.
His rut-fever blazed. Race gritted his teeth as he gathered the terrified children, mentally sending a soothing wave to calm their agitation.
A distant boom shattered the silence. The tunnel shuddered. Dust rattled loose from the ceiling. Pressure vents screamed open, just like Ash said they would. The mountain groaned, centuries of trapped heat finding release.
“We need to move fast,” Skaldr barked. “Less than ten minutes before this whole place falls.”
“Don’t let the young shift,” Varkyn ordered, carrying a comatose child. “It will kill them in this state.”
They herded the dozen or so children toward the tunnel, their dragging footsteps echoing off granite. Another blast shook the mountain.
Whimpers rose, thin and frightened. The ceiling groaned overhead.
“It’s all right,” Rhaedra murmured. “Keep moving.” They quickened their pace as rubble began to rain down. A little girl stumbled, and Koal scooped her up.
Through it all, Ash’s presence flickered, dim and unsteady, like a candle guttering in a gale.
Hold on, heart-fire, I’m coming.
