Chapter 31 Bryx #2
I watched as a guard tested one of the treated blades on a training dummy. The dummy didn’t just get cut—it dissolved at the point of contact, spreading outward like aggressive cancer until there was nothing left but ash that smelled of roses and rot.
“You there! Stop!”
I froze. Not one, not two, but five Bloomguard had spotted me, their armor gleaming with that pearl-and-poison sheen that meant they were elite. But instead of panicking, I felt a grin spread across my face. This was more my speed.
“Oh, hello there!” I called out cheerfully, straightening to my full height—all six feet of wiry insectoid hybrid swagger.
“Lovely evening for a patrol, isn’t it? Though between you and me, the décor could use some work.
All this doom and gloom—have you considered some nice pastels?
Maybe a throw pillow or two? I know a guy who does wonderful work with cursed tapestries. Very reasonable rates.”
The lead guard’s hand went to her sword. “Identify yourself.”
“Bryx the Magnificent, at your service!” I announced with a theatrical bow that showed off my flexibility. “Part-time hero, full-time heartthrob, occasional interior decorator, and currently very lost. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. First, my bee here—say hello, Kevin—”
Kevin buzzed what was definitely not a hello.
“—Kevin decided to chase a butterfly. A butterfly! Can you imagine? We’re in the middle of a dramatic scouting mission and he’s distracted by pretty wings.
Though I can’t blame him. Pretty wings are very distracting.
Speaking of which, that armor really brings out your eyes.
Are those standard issue or did you get them specially made? ”
The female guard actually blushed behind her mask. Score one for the Bryx charm.
“He’s with the rebels,” another guard said, not a question.
“Rebels? Me?” I gasped dramatically, hand over my heart.
“I’m hurt. Wounded. Mortally offended. I’ll have you know I’m a free agent.
An independent contractor of chaos. Available for parties, harvest festivals, and the occasional overthrow of tyrannical regimes.
Very reasonable rates. I do offer a group discount if you’re interested. ”
“Enough games,” the lead guard snapped. “You’ve seen the channels. You know what we’re doing.”
“Oh, I’ve seen them alright. Mixing Root and Bloom? Very naughty. I’m pretty sure that’s against at least a dozen natural laws and probably a few unnatural ones. Does your mother know what you’re up to? She’d be very disappointed.”
They attacked simultaneously, which was just rude. No warning, no dramatic countdown, not even a ‘prepare to die, rebel scum.’ Where was the showmanship? The style? The basic courtesy of announcing your intent to murder someone?
I dodged the first blade with flexibility that came from having too many joints, bending backward until my head nearly touched my heels. “Whoa! Buy a guy dinner first!”
The second attack I deflected with a sonic pulse that shattered stone and made all five guards stagger. The rampart cracked under the force, pieces falling into the courtyard below with crashes that would definitely attract attention.
“Oops!” I called out cheerfully. “Did I forget to mention the sonic thing? My bad! I really should come with a warning label. ‘Caution: Contains devastating good looks and destructive sound waves.’”
Kevin grew to full size instantly, diving at the nearest guard with stinger extended. The guard barely dodged, rolling aside as Kevin’s stinger punched through solid stone where he’d been standing. The stone sizzled where Kevin’s venom touched it.
“That’s my boy!” I cheered, sending out another sonic pulse that knocked two guards off balance. “Show them why bees are superior to wasps in every way! Better pollinators, better honey producers, better at causing massive property damage!”
The fight was actually going pretty well for about thirty seconds.
My sonic pulses kept them disoriented, Kevin was magnificently terrifying, and I was pulling off some genuinely impressive acrobatic moves that I definitely planned to brag about later.
I even managed to knock one guard completely off the rampart with a well-timed sonic burst combined with a spinning kick that would have made my combat instructor proud, if I’d ever had one.
But then more guards arrived. Like, a lot more guards. Apparently my sonic pulses weren’t exactly subtle, and the sound of shattering stone had attracted every guard in a quarter-mile radius.
“Kevin, remember that tactical retreat we practiced?”
He buzzed agreement while stinging a guard in a very uncomfortable place.
“Time to tactically retreat! With style!”
I grabbed onto Kevin as he swooped past, and we shot into the air, arrows whistling past us. One caught Kevin’s wing, tearing through the delicate membrane. He buzzed in pain but kept flying, because Kevin was a champion and champions don’t let little things like arrow wounds stop them.
“You okay, buddy?” I called over the wind.
His buzz translated roughly to “I’ve had worse. Remember the time you convinced me to pollinate those carnivorous orchids?”
“That was for science!”
“That was for a dare!”
“Scientific dare!”
We crashed into a grove a mile away, both of us gasping, bleeding, somehow still alive. Kevin’s left wing was torn, and I was pretty sure I’d cracked something important. Maybe several somethings. But my gorgeous smile was intact, so really, priorities.
“Can you fly?” I asked Kevin, examining his wing.
He buzzed indignantly—of course he could fly. He was insulted I’d even asked. A torn wing was nothing. He’d flown with worse. Like that time I’d accidentally set him on fire. Or the time he’d been half-frozen. Or the time—
“Okay, okay, you’re very tough and very brave,” I said, patting his fuzzy head. “Now, let’s go find Thrak’s forces and tell them we’re all probably going to die if they stick to the plan. But, you know, in a cheerful way.”
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen. The channels, the weapons, the deliberate mixing of Root and Bloom—it wasn’t just corruption. It was something else. Something planned.
We flew low and fast, Kevin pushing through the pain like the absolute champion he was.
The forest below was already showing signs of the convergence—streams flowing backward, trees aging and reversing in rapid cycles, reality getting thin at the edges.
A deer ran past us backward, which was disturbing on multiple levels.
A flock of birds flew in perfect reverse formation, and I swear I saw a flower bloom, wilt, and bloom again in the span of seconds.
We found Thrak’s army about two miles from the Heartspire, moving through the forest like a tide of desperate hope. Two hundred and fifty rebels armed with everything from proper weapons to farming tools. They looked up as we approached, and I saw the surprise on their faces.
“Thrak!” I shouted, landing with more flair than strictly necessary. “Stop! It’s a trap! The whole thing is a trap! But also, hello everyone, you’re all looking particularly rebellious today! Love the energy! Very revolutionary chic!”
The scarred rebel leader held up his hand, halting the march. “Bryx? What are you—”
“No time to explain! Lysandra had a vision. She sent me to scout. The Heartspire—” I gasped, partly for breath and partly for dramatic effect.
“The rot channels aren’t just corruption.
They’re mixing Root AND Bloom magic into it.
The entire building is designed to harvest power from marked ones.
Also, their interior decoration is absolutely heinous.
Someone should really talk to them about that. ”
“What?” Vera stepped forward, her scarred face skeptical. She hadn’t liked me from the beginning, probably because I’d once tried to lighten the mood at a strategy meeting with an interpretive dance about the futility of war. In my defense, it had been a very long meeting.
“I saw it myself. They’re coating their weapons in it, but that’s not the worst part.
The building itself—it’s calibrated to pull power from anyone with marks.
The moment Kaelren touches those walls with his corruption, the moment any marked one makes contact—it’ll drain them.
Feed that power straight into whatever Auradelle is doing to Elle. ”
“You’re sure?” Thrak’s one good eye studied me intently.
“Kevin and I had a delightful chat with some guards about it,” I said, gesturing to our various wounds with a flourish.
“They were very convincing with their swords and arrows. Quite persuasive, really. Five stars for their dedication to trying to kill us. Would not recommend for a second date though.”
The rebels murmured uneasily. This changed everything.
“If we go through the main gates—” Vera started.
“We’re walking into exactly what Auradelle wants,” I finished. “He’s expecting the assault. He’s counting on it. Every marked fighter who enters becomes fuel for his ritual.”
Thrak was quiet for a long moment, weighing options, calculating odds. I could practically see the gears turning in his head. Then: “What do you suggest?”
I grinned, that special Bryx grin that meant I was about to suggest something either brilliant or suicidal. Possibly both. Definitely both.
“I have a plan,” I announced. “It’s clever, it’s dramatic, and it involves a truly impressive amount of style. You’re going to love it. Or hate it. Honestly, could go either way. But it’ll definitely be memorable!”
The rebels leaned in, and for the first time in my life, people were looking at me not as a joke, but as someone who might actually have answers. It was a heady feeling. I could get used to this.
“But first,” I said, maintaining the suspense because timing was everything, “we’re going to need every bee in a three-mile radius. Kevin, darling, start making friends.”
As Kevin began sending out pheromone signals, I turned back to the assembled rebels with my most charming smile. The one that had once convinced a dryad to go out with me for drinks. Well, she drank, while I sat in a dark corner watching her. It was complicated.
“Trust me,” I said. “We’re about to give the performance of our lives. And if we die, we’ll die with style. Which, really, is all anyone can ask for.”