I’d learned so little from Gran about fire magic. A few things here and there, but all of my knowledge came from the need to hide who I was, rather than what I was capable of. I pulled a rune from my pocket, one I’d always tried to have on hand for Calder. Simple concealment work meant for exactly this kind of situation.
I tossed it to him. “For watch duty. Since I know you’re going to insist.”
He caught it, examining the carved slate. He knew exactly how much work went into it and that small crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he studied it with approval stroked my pride. Then, to everyone’s surprise but mine, he pulled a knife from his belt, swiped the blade across his forearm, and pressed the rune into the wound.
Lucy sucked in a sharp breath. Pip made a sound somewhere between fascination and horror. I watched the rune sink beneath skin, watched flesh knit back together around it. The whole process took maybe five seconds.
“I knew it!” Pip flew up, pointing at Calder with her tiny sword. “I knew you didn’t eat them! You’ve been lying this whole time!”
“I never lied,” Calder said. “Okay, I might’ve.”
“You absolutely did lie, Calder Grimm,” I smiled. “Poor Pip has been wondering how you still have teeth this whole time.”
She looked over at me, scrunching her nose. “How’d you know that?” Then at the Oracle. “Did you tell her that?”
Aureth laughed and threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I said nothing. I promise.”
Lucy leaned forward, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she nudged Calder. “That’s how Rune Eaters work? You just... put them inside you?”
“More or less.”
“That’s weird,” Pip said. “And also kind of amazing. But mostly weird.”
“Interesting. But then how did you get the name?” Lucy pressed. “The Heartless One. That’s not a name you earn from being secretive about your nature.”
Pip flew in, curiosity stealing the cold from her bones as it took over. “There are stories. Scary ones.”
Calder was quiet for a long moment, staring at the glowing stone as though it held answers he wasn’t sure he wantedto share. I truly didn’t think he would. Then he sighed, long and resigned, like he’d known this conversation was coming eventually and had been hoping to put it off until we were all dead. Which... fair.
“After the last Burning, the charidryn were hunted for our association with witches. Most didn’t survive. The few who did learned to hide what we were, became mercenaries to survive. We’d consume runes to track targets or artifacts conventional hunters couldn’t find. Made us valuable enough that people overlooked what we were.”
He flexed his hand, watching the new rune settle beneath his skin with the kind of familiarity that spoke to decades of practice.
“My father recognized my talent early. Started training me at five. It was...” He paused, searching for words. “Brutal. He’d make me consume progressively more powerful runes, force my body to adapt to channeling magic it wasn’t meant to hold. The backlash nearly killed me more times than I can count. But I survived. Got stronger. Became exactly what he needed me to be.”
Wickett shifted slightly, his attention fully focused now despite the pain he had to be in. Because he and Calder had a similar start in life. Lucy and Riot hadn’t so much as breathed, unwilling to interrupt now that answers about the mysterious race were being delivered on a platter to them.
“When I was sixteen, we took a contract. Hunting a lycan who’d stolen something from a nymph family. High pay, simple job.” Calder’s voice went flat. “It was a setup. They wanted the last Rune Eaters eliminated because of our protection of witches. So we would stop hiding them. My entire family walked into an ambush.”
“Terrible,” Aureth said, though she’d turned away from us, facing the brightening horizon, likely drinking in any trace of warmth from the growing sunlight.
“I’d been sent ahead as bait. Standard strategy for us—youngest goes first, draws out the target while the family flanks. So I was hiding when they were slaughtered. Watching. Unable to help. When the group of assassins had gone, I went in, hoping I could save someone. Anyone. But as my father was dying, he pressed a runestone toward me, and I’d never seen anything like it. I took it. Consumed it right there while his blood was still warm on the surface.”
“What did it do?” Pip’s voice was barely a whisper as she hovered closer to the warming stone, rubbing her tiny hands together as she listened.
Calder dusted the Ash from his pant leg. “About killed me. The magical backlash hit immediately—the worst I’d ever experienced. For three days, I burned with fever. Hallucinated. My body tried to reject the rune over and over, but it wouldn’t leave. When I finally woke up...” He pressed his hand to his chest. “It had merged with my heart. Literally etched itself into the muscle. I can feel it sometimes, especially when I use other runes. Like it’s judging whether they’re worthy of joining it.”
I swallowed, knowing that’s why he preferred mine. Why he’d kept me so close. Because with him, I’d always been so careful with the weaving. He was my family.
Lucy made a soft sound. Understanding, maybe. Or horror.
“I spent the next five years hunting down everyone involved in my family’s murder. Systematically. Methodically. No mercy, no hesitation. Just names crossed off a list until the list was empty.” He scratched the back of his head, turning away. “The jobs were messy. Public. I didn’t care who saw or what they thought. People started calling me the Heartless One because Ikilled without emotion, without regret. Just... did what needed doing.”
“Did it help? The revenge?” Aureth asked quietly, and something lingered there in that question. A sliver of her own past peeking through, perhaps.
“No. But it was necessary anyway.”
Silence stretched.
