He’s so fucking rude!
“What ifs...” Dracoth replies, his tone laced with impatience. “What if the Sun were always cold? What if fire were always ice? What if you were always quiet?” He waves a dismissive clawed hand. “I could hear their weak hearts fluttering; I could smell their fear leaking from their pores.”
A pang of anxiety ripples through me, and I cast a wary glance at Dracoth. Is he about to erupt into one of his terrifying rages? It’s the only time the giant bore ever seems to speak at length. Instead, he glares at Ignixis with intensity. Thankfully, his eyes aren’t doing that scary glowing, misty thing.
“Indulge me, young Dracoth,” Ignixis replies, a hint of amusement curling his lips.
I’m going to indulge myself, turning my attention back to the slightly ominous, dark, oily liquid, nibbling my lip as I take a deep breath.
Here goes nothing!
It takes a moment for the viscous liquid to reach my mouth, bringing a strong flavor of roasted malt, dark chocolate, and a strange, metallic tang. Just as I’m beginning to think it’s not so bad, an overwhelming burn hits the back of my throat like a fiery wave.
“God, that’s strong!” I gasp, my body shaking involuntarily, as if I’ve swallowed a mouthful of liquid fire. I shudder, pushing the massive tankard toward Dracoth. The biting, acrid taste still stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water. “It might be nice if it wasn’t so... painful.”
Dracoth’s eyes flick to me for an unreadable moment, before he takes the tankard, making it seem almost comically small in his enormous hand. The big show-off gulps the entire drink as if it were water, clearly trying to impress like a drunk frat boy at a party.
“Can I try some?” Sandra asks, her eyes practically laser-focused on the tankard. Dracoth slides the remnants her way, his attention already shifting back to Ignixis.
“To indulge you, Elder, is to indulge a headache,” Dracoth grumbles. I can’t help but grin. That was almost funny! And at Ignixis’s expense? Even better.
“Had the cowards fought me, I would have twisted their heads off,” Dracoth adds, his tone deadly serious.
My grin fades, remembering how easily Dracoth deals out murder, like I deal out social media posts. God, I miss my phone. The thought prompts a sigh.
From the corner of my eye, I see Sandra taking a tentative sip of the Dark Matter Stout. Her expression shifts from curiosity to scrunched-up grimace in an instant.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaims, pushing the drink away like it might explode. “How do they drink this stuff?”
I shrug, having no answer.
“Twisted their heads off?” Ignixis presses, folding his tattooed arms with a sigh. “A feat themighty War Chieftaincould no doubt achieve.”He lingers on the title with mocking scorn. “But the War Chieftain must also be wise. What about the others who would come after the Council declares you an outlaw? Are you planning to twist their heads off too? Or entire clans? Could youdo it,boy?Would that finally satiate the fury that sears your heart and clouds your judgment?”
A tense silence follows, the air heavy between them. Only the murmur of other patrons and the cackling fire pierce the dimness. I hold my breath, feeling like I’m caught between two ticking, crazy bombs, especially when they argue about whatever it is they argue about.
“No,” Dracoth finally growls, his gaze turning distant.
“No!” Ignixis snaps, his voice lashing out like a whip. “Do you think Gorexius would have behaved thusly? Committing open sacrilege against the sacred words? Slaughtering his own brothers indiscriminately? Even when he faced Krogoth, he respected the Krak-Tok. He heeded the Elders. But not you. No, you think you’re above it all—above me, above Gorexius, above the Elders, above even the Gods. Acting with all the foolish confidence only the young and gifted can possess.”
His words pour out in a heated tirade, and suddenly, it clicks. I’ve heard this tone before, this exact sanctimonious nonsense. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize—it’s just like my mother lecturing me. Even Dracoth looks like a sullen kid getting scolded, his eyes downcast, avoiding the burning glare of a disappointed parent. I’ve been on the receiving end hundreds of times—someone projecting their insecurities and dreams onto you. It’s total bullshit, and it makes my blood boil.
“What are you? His dad?” I cut in, rounding on Ignixis with a scowl since I already know he isn’t. That’s like comparing a moldy raisin to a fresh, juicy apple.
Ignixis doesn’t break his piercing, glowing green gaze from Dracoth. “Would that I were, child. Then perhaps he’d listen to reason,” he replies, his tone unusually calm.
“The words of a coward are worthless,” Dracoth sneers, seeming to shake himself from whatever trance he was in.
“Damn it,boy!” Ignixis snaps back, his sneer venomous beneath the shadows of his robes, making both Sandra and me gasp. “You must look beyond my personal choices; they are irrelevant. The truth is the truth. The words are the words,” he adds, forcing his tone back to a controlled calm.
I shake my head in annoyance, even though I’m just a bystander to his cult-like nonsense. “What words? The ones only you and your Elders know? How convenient.” I roll my eyes, unable to hide my irritation. His manipulations are so obvious and stupid, hardly surprising for the hole-in-the-ground clan.
“Your ignorance would fill every nanometer of space, child,” Ignixis replies, his hooded visage swiveling toward me. The way his piercing green gaze locks onto mine makes my breath catch in my throat. “Even your eyes betray the emptiness of your mind.”
Such a rude prick!His voice drips with disdain. Then, slowly, he lowers the hood of his black robes.
His face is a withered, blackened mask, illuminated by the flickering firelight. His glowing green eyes seem to bore straight through me, and I have to fight back a shudder. This serious side of Ignixis is somehow more unsettling than his usual mocking jabs or sneering anger.
Scrutinizing his face deeper, I find myself drawn into the almost indistinguishable runes and symbols tattooed in a chaotic sea of black against a canvas of red flesh. I try to decipher them, following their flowing spiral or sharp angles. They draw me in like a puzzle I need to complete, but I can’t quite piece together, a riddle missing too many clues.
