Page 92 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Garrett strikes in one fluid motion. The young elf’s head separates from his shoulders before he can finish the word. His body crumples, blood spreading across ancient stone.

The others try to run and fight. But they’re exhausted, demoralized, and trapped. Garrett cuts them down cleanly, one after another until only two are left, the older knight and the scarred one.

The older knight drops his sword. Falls to his knees. “Please. I have a family. Children of my own—”

“So did the parents in Feywildra,” Garrett says and kills him.

The scarred knight is last. He backs against the wall, sword raised in a futile defense. Blood from his companions pools around his boots. “You’re damned too now,” he gasps. “You’ve become just like us, a murderer. A monster.”

“I know,” Garrett says quietly.

Then he kills him.

Silence falls over the chamber. Five bodies lie in pools of spreading blood. The fire still crackles cheerfully, indifferent to the carnage.

Garrett stands among the dead, breathing hard. Blood spatters his clothes, his face, his hands. His sword drips red onto the stone floor.

He’s shaking.

I approach slowly, carefully. “Garrett.”

“There are more.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “So many more. The Falcon Unit. The Serpent Unit. However many other units they haven’t named.”

“I know.”

He looks at me, and his eyes are wild, desperate, and lost. “The Aeonians are the ones behind it all. The highest power in the realm. They’re immortal and untouchable.”

I step closer, reach out to take his shoulders. He’s trembling under my hands.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he says. His voice breaks. “I don’t know—”

“Garrett.” I pull him away from the bodies, away from the blood pooling across stone that once housed my people. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

He follows numbly, letting me guide him back through the passages. It’s easier going back. I memorized the route on the way in, every turn and junction. We emerge into the late afternoon sun, and Garrett stops at the entrance, blinking at the brightness.

“They’re feeding on people,” he says, staring at nothing. “The Aeonians are feeding on our children.”

“Yes.” I have no comfort to offer.

“And everyone just... accepts it. Participates in it,” he trembles, his voice hollow with disbelief.

I truly don’t know how to make it better or softer or more bearable for him. So I just stand with him in the fading sunlight and let him process the horror he’s uncovered.

He turns to look at me finally. “Forgive me, Wolf. I can’t keep my promise to you.”

I feel the disappointment but can’t blame him. Some part of me knew it would end this way.

“I told you this would end with the twelve. That I’d stop after I’d avenged those children.” He swallows, jaw tightening like he hates the next words. “I told you I’d stop after the twelve. But I’m not done. I can’t be done. Not when I know what I know now.”

I choose my words carefully. “Makes sense.”

“However many other units. Behind them, the Aeonians themselves.” He runs a bloody hand through his hair, leaving red streaks.

I reach out and grip his shoulder.

“You should go. Get away from this while you still can.” It comes out quiet, resigned.

He’s giving me an out.