“Yes.” Harkus nods slowly, as if pondering some private revelation. “I see,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking between Princesa and me. “Forget I mentioned her.” He waves a weathered hand, the gesture sending his pristine white robes fluttering—a jarring brightness in this cavern of ash and obsidian.
“Elder Garzum,” Harkus turns toward the black-red robed Elder, who, despite his expression shrouded by tattoos, looks like a warrior awaiting his deathblow. “Did you verify theirMortakin-Tok?” he asks, his faint smile remaining, though his piercing brown eyes hold no warmth.
“Not... exactly... Elder Harkus,” Garzum replies, squirming like a vipertail caught by its stinger. His hesitation fills me with disgust. His lack of resolve shames my clan.
“Because last I checked,” Harkus continues, activating his wrist console. An azure glow illuminates the molten cavern as a holographic display flares to life. “You haven’t completed the Mortakin-Tok yourself, have you? Unless you’ve been very busy since last we spoke.” He chuckles, his finger trailing lazily through a list of names. “Ah, sadly not. No, Elder Garzum,” he drawls, his theatrics testing my patience.
Before I can speak, Princesa steps forward. “So what if we’re not on yournaughtylist?” she scoffs, her fingers absentlystroking the resting cyloillar on her shoulder. “Garzum saw the truth,” she adds, her voice lowering into a menacing purr. “They all did.” She grins, eyes flashing like mercury stars.
The crowd stirs, nodding and muttering in agreement, while Harkus peers back at them, a frown further creasing his ancient face.
“What truth?” he asks, his tone stripped of amusement.
Princesa laughs, the sound echoing off the jagged rocks like a mocking spirit. “The only truth that matters,” she says, her voice sharp with conviction. Her head tilts downward—a predator ready to strike. “Tell him, Garzum.”
All eyes swing to the trembling Elder. His crimson gaze darts from Princesa to Harkus, then to the cavern floor as if seeking refuge in its cracks.
“I... saw... something. I’m unsure of its nature.” His voice falters, and when he looks back at Harkus, it is with the loathsome certainty of betrayal.
Weakling.
“You dare forsake Arawnoth?” Princesa hisses, the fervor of her hatred crackling through the air, surprising even me. “You, who are burned by his sacred words?” she continues trace-like, jabbing an accusing finger toward Garzum. “I hope he sears the skin from your bones in his eternal flames! You pathetic snake, you squirming worm, you sniveling rat, you fucking asshole!” she shrieks, her hands rising in raw fury.
Through our bond, I sense her silver fire roaring with unrestrained rage. Its tongues lash toward my own crimson inferno, yearning to intertwine like a lover reaching for their partner. I open the floodgates of my fury, allowing our connection to surge unimpeded. It’s easy for me—one whose hatred forever seethes beneath the skin.
Immediately, Garzum grunts in pain, his body pinned between two translucent silvery barriers pressing from either side. Gaspsripple through the crowd, and they instinctively step back, as though his punishment might be infectious.
“This is the truth you’ve forgotten,Elder,” Princesa declares, smirking. Her silver eyes blaze with glee, the mark of Arawnoth burning on her chest, reflecting the pride that she stokes in me. “Arawnoth blesses me. Blesses us.”
Her eyes burn brighter, swirling red and silver, as the barriers constrict around Garzum like a vice, his agony etched into every contorted line of his face.
“Stop this madness!” Harkus shouts, stepping forward with an outstretched hand.
Without thought, I summon a wall of flame to block his path. The fiery barrier roars to life, forcing him to recoil, his feeble hand snapping back from the heat. The flames caress my skin like Princesa’s touch, warm and pleasing. He should consider himself fortunate that I didn’t cook the flesh from his bones for daring to touch my Princesa.
“Lexie, please,” Sandra’s soft voice cuts through the chaos, her plea piercing even the storm of our fury. She clutches Princesa’s arm, her expression wrought with concern. “You’ve made your point. Let it go.”
Princesa tears her gaze from the squirming Garzum, her sneer faltering as her eyes meet Sandra’s. For a moment—silence.
“Fine,” she mutters at last. “Whatever.” She lowers her hands. The silvery barriers vanish, and Garzum collapses onto the stone, gasping for breath. The crowd murmurs, their awe tinged with fear, as I extinguish the flames with a casual gesture.
“Machsin’s mercy,” Harkus breathes, his trembling hand clutching the immense sneachir skull for support. His eyes remain downcast as though seeking answers in the stone. “The Gods have blessed your union. That they would gift ones such as you with such devastating power—what divine plan could justify this?”
He is wrong. The Mortakin-Tok merely bolstered what was already earned. The Gods favored Princesa’s sacrifice—our ascension.
“I knew it was a mistake,” Harkus says finally, his voice low but filled with bitterness. His gaze snaps to mine, his eyes sharp as if they seek to pierce my molten skin. “For Krogoth to spare your life and forbid your punishment,” he continues, shaking his head as if waking from a nightmare. “Did the Scythians leave you nothing but the brawn of beasts?” His tone hardens, cutting deeper. “Are you as empty as the others?”
His words tear at unhealed wounds—memories shrouded by darkness, buried in pain.
“Empty?” I echo, my voice a sneer, my rage bubbling to the surface like molten lava. “My fury will ignite the stars themselves, you withered relic!” My fist clenches, trembling with the effort to restrain myself.
Harkus snorts, unimpressed by my outburst. “Hatred,” he says, as if it’s a curse, his disappointment fanning my fury higher. “Is that why you condemn yourself, attacking an Elder?” He nods toward Princesa, his gaze accusatory. “Dragging a willful human into your crimes?”
Princesa bristles, ready to retort, but Garzum’s voice rises first.
“There was no attack, Elder Harkus.” Garzum’s words ring with unexpected resolve, his chin lifting in defiance. “The War Chieftainess was correct to remind me of Arawnoth’s wrath.” His crimson eyes burn with fervor, glittering like embers in the gloom. “It wasn’t mere mortal strength but the divine touch of the Gods themselves!”
Princesa smirks, her joy mirroring the pride surging through my chest. Garzum’s eyes blaze with clarity, his heart pure and overflowing with truth.
