Chapter 11 #2
Rezer folded his arms loosely, posture relaxed even as his magic stirred, dark current coiling hot beneath his control. “You’re going to have to narrow that down. I leave a lot of things behind.”
A low pulse rolled through the ground, vibrating up through his boots and into his bones.
You feel it. That is why you came.
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it, either. The pull tightened, precise and directional, telling him exactly where not to go.
“I came because I’m sick of you interrupting my sleep,” he said.
“I’m done.” Rezer felt his frustration growing at the vague answers and the smug tone that filled his head.
“Who am I to you? Speak plainly about what you want with Cassie and Elora. Stop being a pain in my ass.” His voice was not quite a shout by the time he was done.
The pause stretched longer this time.
You saved us. The daughters. They are special. They belong to us.
Rezer’s expression hardened. “No. To both.”
The response came immediately.
You don’t get to refuse what was already set in motion.
“I absolutely do,” he countered. “It’s a defining characteristic.”
The presence ignored the jab.
They have been moving, and will continue to move. You felt it when the king tore at the veil.
Rezer went still. That wasn’t a guess. “You felt him,” Rezer said quietly. “Didn’t you?”
All the realm did.
Cold settled beneath his ribs. When he had felt it, sharp, furious, unmistakable it had sucked the breath from his lungs. Power that didn’t ask permission. That didn’t apologize. Triktapic.
Rezer exhaled slowly. “Then you’re running out of time.”
Something like amusement brushed his awareness.
So are you.
The pressure increased, not painful, but intimate. Familiar without permission.
You were made to withstand this. Others break. The king rages. The daughters are pulled. But you were created to lead us.
“Bullshit,” Rezer practically spat before he could stop himself.
There was no way in hell he could possibly have anything to do with the Chamber and creatures inside.
They were evil. Weren’t they? Yes. They had to be.
They were luring two innocent females to them with plans to use them to their own ends.
Dark elf or not, Rezer would never be okay with females being hurt.
The forest reacted. Bark cracked softly along a nearby trunk. Leaves shuddered.
“Don’t tell me what I was made for,” he said, voice gone cold. “That conversation ends badly for you.” Rezer hadn’t felt a purpose in so long, it was a bit of a sore subject. Like a lion with a damn thorn in its paw.
Silence.
Then, instead:
You are incomplete.
The words struck harder than they should have. So maybe his lack of purpose wasn’t his only hang up. He never claimed to be a simple male.
“That so?” Rezer said lightly, though his magic flared in reflex before he forced it back under control. “Funny. I was thinking the same about you.”
The pull shifted, not deeper into the forest, not toward the anchor. Sideways. Redirecting. Testing.
You will come when the daughters arrive. You will come when the balance needs you. You were there when we were created and protected us when we needed you.
Something twisted in his chest. A flicker of memory. A battlefield, confusion and fear, then determination to fix whatever had happened, and yes, to protect.
“Not this time.”
The pressure tightened, finally edging toward restraint.
You will.
The words weren’t quite as controlled this time, obviously annoyed with his lack of cooperation.
Rezer smiled, slow and dangerous.
“No,” he said softly. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
He felt the forest lean even closer, attention sharpening.
“I don’t choose what’s expected,” he continued. “That’s boring.”
Displeasure rolled through the trees, thick and heavy.
Rezer turned away from the direction of the pull, away from this place that he realized held something: magic, memory, and blood.
The resistance spiked, a sharp warning hum crawling along his nerves.
“Save it,” he muttered. “If you could stop me, you would have already.” He took a step.
Then another. Behind him, the presence pressed close one last time.
She is not outside this.
Rezer didn’t slow. He knew exactly who the Chamber spoke of.
“No,” he agreed. “She’s not.” And that was exactly the problem.
He angled his path away from the old anchor it had managed to stop him in and toward a thinner place he’d been avoiding all morning.
Toward the long way out. Toward a reflection the Chamber couldn’t quite smother without revealing its hand.
Toward Lisa. He continued to feel the presence of the Chamber, or what was in the Chamber, he still wasn’t really sure which he was dealing with.
Felt it stay right with him, pushing, or trying to. Rezer kept walking.
The forest finally made a mistake.
Rezer felt it the instant the resistance faltered, not vanished, not withdrawn, just . . . uneven. Like a grip that had tightened too long and lost precision.
He slowed, eyes scanning the space ahead.
Water. Not a puddle. Not the dull, lightless pools the forest had been feeding him since dawn. This was a narrow stream cutting through stone, its surface smooth and uninterrupted, reflecting the canopy above in fractured strips of green and gray. Finally, a real reflection. Unobstructed.
The pull behind him surged, sharp and irritated.
But, it was too late. Rezer stepped to the edge of the stream and crouched, studying the surface.
His reflection stared back, clear, intact, eyes too bright for comfort.
Magic rippled faintly beneath his skin, reacting to the proximity like a held breath finally released.
“You should’ve blocked this one,” he said quietly. “Sloppy.”
The forest tightened around him, branches creaking, roots shifting beneath the soil. The pressure behind his ribs spiked, not command this time, but warning.
Still not done with you, the presence pressed.
Rezer straightened, already shedding his coat, fingers loosening the blade at his side. “I never said I was done with you, either.”
He stepped forward. The stream rippled once, then split, the surface thinning like glass under pressure. Cold air rushed up around him, sharp and clean and unmistakably human. For a heartbeat, the forest strained, magic pulling hard enough to burn.
Rezer didn’t look back.
“Just a suggestion,” he said calmly, “that next time you want to stop me, you should try harder not to underestimate me.” The water sealed behind him with a soft, harmless sound.