Chapter 34 #2
"Enough," Thaine said sharply. "We have more important things to discuss." He looked directly at Eliam and Arion. "Is it true? What Briar said last night?"
"You heard?" Arion asked.
"Everyone heard. Drak celebrations echo, and profound revelations carry." Thaine's expression was grim. "Are you really one being split in two?"
Eliam and Arion exchanged glances.
"It seems so," Arion said finally.
"Well," Karse said after a moment of stunned silence, "that explains the sexual tension."
"This is serious," Thaine snapped. "If Malus knows this, if he planned this—"
"He knows," Briar interrupted. "His ritual backfired when Eliam put the piece of his essence inside of me. It caused him to split instead of stripping his powers."
"Then we're walking into a trap," Halian said, speaking for the first time. His voice was hoarse. "Going to the seal is exactly what he wants."
"Not going means the seal breaks anyway," Thaine pointed out. "It's already failing. You've seen the corruption spreading."
"So we're trapped either way," Sian summarized.
"Not trapped," Eliam said. "Challenged. Malus expects us to come. Fine. But he doesn't know we know about the fracture. That's an advantage."
"A small one," Karse noted. "Against someone who's had centuries to plan."
They were still arguing when Veroc arrived with the other Drak warriors, all armed and armored for travel.
The morning light caught on their scaled armor, each piece overlapping like natural protection, purple and black in the shadows.
The warriors moved with predatory grace despite the weight of their gear, their reptilian eyes scanning the gathering with professional assessment.
"The morning grows late," Veroc said, his ancient voice carrying the rumble of distant thunder. "If you're going to reach the seal's border by nightfall, we need to leave now."
There was a flurry of final preparations.
Supplies were distributed from woven packs that looked deceptively small for what they contained.
Weapons were checked with the careful attention of those who knew their lives would depend on them and armor was adjusted with practiced hands tightening straps and checking joints.
Briar found herself being handed a set of lighter traveling clothes by a young Drak female whose scales still held the brighter purple of youth.
"For the journey," the girl said shyly, her inner eyelids flickering nervously. "The ceremonial garb is not meant for travel."
Briar thanked her and changed quickly. The new garments were practical—soft leather that had been worked until it was supple as cloth, reinforced at the knees and elbows, with a dark tunic that would blend into forest shadows.
The boots laced up to mid-calf, sturdy enough for rough terrain but flexible enough to run if needed.
When she emerged, she found Eliam waiting for her. He held out the star metal pendant, the chain catching the light like captured moonbeams, and she slipped it over her head. The weight of it settled against her chest, cold at first, then warming to her skin.
"Stay close when we travel," he said quietly. "The corruption will get worse as we approach the seal."
"I know."
He studied her face, something unreadable in his expression. "About last night—"
"We don't have to talk about it."
"We do." His hand rose to cup her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Everything's different now. What we know, what we are to each other—"
"Eliam."
"I won't lose you." The words came out fierce, possessive. "Whatever happens at the seal, whatever Malus has planned, I won’t let anything happen to you."
She wanted to point out that he might not have a choice, that if reunification happened, if Arion ceased to exist as a separate being, everything would change in ways none of them could predict. But Veroc was calling for them to move out, and there was no time for that conversation.
They left the Drak settlement as the sun reached its peak, their escort leading them back into the corrupted wilderness. Behind them, the safe haven of the settlement disappeared into the twisted trees, and ahead lay only uncertainty and the growing wrongness of lands touched by failing magic.
The seal waited, and with it, whatever trap Malus had set for them all.
The forest changed gradually at first.
The twisted trees grew thicker, their branches weaving overhead into an impenetrable canopy that blocked most of the afternoon light.
What filtered through came down wrong, a sickly green that made everything look diseased.
The warmth in Briar's chest recoiled from it, pulling tighter with each step deeper into the corrupted lands.
Veroc led them along paths that barely existed, sometimes having to hack through undergrowth that had grown wild and wrong.
The vegetation here didn't follow natural patterns.
Vines twisted upward in spirals, their thorns growing in directions that defied logic.
Flowers bloomed and rotted in the span of heartbeats, their petals falling only to regrow in different colors, different shapes.
"Don't touch anything," Veroc said for the third time, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "The corruption responds to contact. Makes it worse."
Behind them, the other Drak warriors moved in formation, eyes constantly scanning the shadows. They'd been walking for hours, and with each mile, the wrongness intensified. The air tasted metallic now, coating the back of Briar's throat with something that made her want to gag.
"How much further?" Sian asked, her voice tight. She'd been quiet since they left, staying close to Halian who hadn't spoken at all.
"To the border? Another hour, maybe two." Veroc paused, studying a tree whose bark wept something dark and viscous. "The seal itself is beyond that. We don't go there."
"Why?" Thaine asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"Because those who do don't come back unchanged,” Veroc said, his voice quiet. "Your fae magic won't work properly near the seal. The magic there is too old, too tangled. It recognizes nothing but what it was made to contain."
A branch cracked somewhere to their left. Everyone went still, weapons half-drawn, but nothing emerged from the shadows. The silence that followed felt worse than an attack would have.
They continued walking, the ground beneath their feet growing softer, spongier. It gave slightly with each step, as if the earth itself had begun to rot. Briar's boots squelched with each step, and she tried not to think about what might be seeping through the leather.
"Look," Thaine said quietly, pointing ahead.
A deer stood in their path. Or what had once been a deer.
Its antlers had grown wild, branching and rebranching until they formed a crown of bone that should have been too heavy for any creature to carry.
Its eyes were completely black, no whites visible, and when it opened its mouth, rows of teeth that belonged on a predator gleamed in the sick light.
It watched them for a long moment, head tilted at an angle that made Briar's neck ache in sympathy. Then it turned and walked into the undergrowth, moving wrong, its legs bending in too many places.
"The animals here," one of the younger Drak warriors said, his voice unsteady. "They're changing."
"Everything changes near the seal," Veroc said grimly. "The corruption seeps out, twists what it touches. Makes it into something else. Something that serves the creatures you locked away."
Arion moved closer to Briar, his light magic flickering weakly around them. It helped, a little, pushing back the worst of the oppressive atmosphere. But she could see the strain in his face, the effort it took to maintain even this small protection.
"You're exhausting yourself," she said quietly.
"I'm fine."
"You're not." She touched his arm, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "Save your strength. We'll need it."
He looked at her, something soft in his expression despite everything. His hand found hers, squeezing gently before letting go.
Ahead, Eliam had stopped, his palm pressed against a tree trunk. His face was drawn, shadows forming in his eyes. The forest that should have welcomed its king fought him at every turn, refusing to recognize him, refusing to yield.
"My lord?" Thaine asked, concern evident despite his attempts to hide it.
"The forest doesn't know me." The words came out hollow. "Or it knows me but won't acknowledge me. I can feel it pulling away, like it's waiting for something else. Someone else."
"Malus," Halian said, speaking for the first time in hours. His voice was rough. "It's already accepting him as king."
The implications of that settled over them like a shroud. If the forest itself had turned against Eliam, if it fully recognized and accepted Malus's claim, then they were walking through enemy territory with no escape routes.
A sound drifted through the trees—not quite laughter, not quite crying, something between the two that made everyone reach for weapons. It came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing wrong in the twisted space.
"Pixies," Veroc said, his hand on his blade. "But corrupted. They're scouting."
"For what?" Briar asked, though she already knew.
"Not what, who. Whoever controls this territory now." Veroc's expression was grim. "They'll report back. Tell them exactly where you are, how many travel with you, which direction you're heading."
"Then Malus knows," Eliam said flatly.
"He's known since you entered the corruption." Veroc started walking again, faster now. "The only question is whether he'll wait until we leave you at the border, or—"
The attack came without warning.
The ground erupted in a spray of rotted earth and bone. Something massive burst from beneath—not quite plant, not quite animal, a fusion of both that shouldn't exist. Tentacles of twisted wood shot toward them, each one tipped with thorns the length of daggers.
"Move!" Veroc roared, his blade already swinging.