Page 90 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Why Feywildra? Out of all the villages in Aelfheim, why that one? Could the hunter be someone from Feywildra who survived?” the scarred knight suddenly snaps. “Maybe this is revenge.”

“The Aeonians chose them,” the nervous knight continues. “Every village, every ritual. They selected the targets, provided the specifications for the sacrifices.”

“Orders to murder children,” the older knight says quietly. There’s something broken in his voice. “We knew what we were doing. We knew the children’s essence would be harvested to sustain the Aeonians.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re old or young,” the thin one mutters, staring into the fire. “As long as the essence is strong. Maybe we should have spared the children.”

“The Aeonians feed on the pure spirit of the vessel. Pure spirit burns brightest in the young,” the scarred knight’s voice is barely a whisper now.

The veteran exhales shakily into the silence.

“We burned children alive and listened to them scream. We held them down when they tried to run. We—” He breaks off, his voice catching. “We’re damned. All of us. Whether this hunter kills us or not, we’re damned.”

“The Aeonians promised protection and power and glory. Where is it?” The thin elf’s voice rises, approaching hysteria. “We’re hiding in a cave like rats, waiting to be slaughtered! We fed them and they’ve abandoned us!”

Silence falls over the chamber. The fire crackles. Somewhere deep in the cave system, water drips with steady rhythm.

“We should run,” the young one finally says. “Leave Aelfheim entirely. Go across the sea, start over somewhere where no one knows what we did.”

“And abandon our families? Our lives?” the thin elf scoffs.

“What lives? We’re dead if we stay here.” the young knight whispers back.

They continue arguing, voices rising and falling. But I’m not listening anymore. I’m watching Garrett.

He’s completely still, staring down at the five knights with an expression I’ve never seen before. The full terrible understanding of what he’s stumbled into is written across his face.

This isn’t just twelve guilty knights… It’s a fucking system.

The Aeonians, immortal rulers who sit above even the Queen and the Council of Aldarelf are orchestrating the murder of people to sustain themselves. These Valorians are just the tools. Disposable and ultimately meaningless in the grand scope of it.

Thousands of people murdered and fed to beings who are supposed to protect the realm.

I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to comfort him or help him process this. So I just watch him, waiting for him to break or rage or do something.

Instead, he stands.

Before I fully understand what he’s doing, Garrett is already moving. He slips down from the ledge with impossible quiet and reaches the edge of the firelight in seconds. His movements are soundless despite his speed.

“Good evening,” he says calmly, stepping into the light.

The five Valorians scramble to their feet. Swords clear scabbards with metallic rings that echo through the chamber. They freeze when they see who it is.

The Valorians stare at Garrett in stunned silence.

For a long moment nobody breathes.

“Commander Clayborne,” the older elf breathes. Recognition and terror war across his face when he realizes Garrett could have heard them. “Sir, we can explain. We were following orders—”

“Yes, I know.” Garrett takes another step forward. The Valorians back up instinctively. “The Aeonians ordered it. You were just doing your duty.”

The scarred knight finds his courage. He straightens his spine and lifts his chin. “We served the realm! We sustained the Aeonians who protect Aelfheim!”

“You murdered children to feed parasites.” Garrett’s voice remains calm, but there’s ice underneath now. “Tonight you answer for that.”

Shock settles heavily across the chamber.

“They’ll be looking for us,” the thin nervous one says quickly. “Captain Marcian will send reinforcements when we don’t report—”