38. Chapter 38
T he morning sun slanted through the high windows of the dining hall, but the usual clamor of others’ presence was blessedly absent.
Ren was grateful for the silence. She stifled a yawn and trudged across the empty space, her limbs still heavy with sleep, or what little she’d managed to get of it.
She’d tossed and turned for hours, mind replaying every word from her exchange with Sylven the other night, crafting a thousand responses she wished she’d said.
But none had come when she needed them most. Instead, she’d buried her face in the pillow, only to realize in a hollow sort of irony that she had kept one of Corrin and Joss’ promises after all.
She had found herself a soft bed to lie in.
Ren selected a thick slice of bread and a bowl of porridge that steamed in her hands. She settled into a seat at the far end of the table, dragging the spoon through the grainy mush. The first bite was comforting. She tore a chunk of bread free, chewing mechanically.
Then came the rustle of fabric.
Ren glanced up just as Kaelin glided into the seat across from her, every inch the picture of composed elegance.
The lilac velvet of her dress clung to her frame, the fabric catching soft glints of silver embroidery with each movement.
Her golden hair tumbled in carefully sculpted curls, cascading over her shoulders.
With deliberate poise, Kaelin set down a porcelain cup before her, steam curling in the air between them.
Kaelin’s gaze flicked to Ren’s food. “You’re eating. That’s good.”
Ren grunted, lifting her spoon.
Kaelin studied Ren with cool precision. “And you seem pale. Trouble sleeping?” Kaelin reached for the small pitcher of cream, tilting it with the kind of precision that made the gesture feel ceremonial, ivory ribbons swirling into the dark tea until it softened to a warm amber.
“Yes. I ran into Sylven in the courtyard the other night.”
At that, Kaelin’s brows arched, just enough to show interest. “Ah.”
“Ah?” Ren repeated, scoffing. “You mean ‘ugh.’ He’s insufferable. Every word out of his mouth makes me want to set something on fire.”
Kaelin’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “He is intense.”
“That’s a pretty way of putting it.”
“Sylven’s seen more bloodshed than most of us care to count, more than even he’ll admit aloud.”
Ren stirred her porridge absentmindedly. “Still doesn’t give him the right to play judge, jury, and executioner.”
Kaelin leaned back, folding her hands in her lap as if the subject were closed.
Ren reached for another piece of bread. “Why do the fae hate humans so much? When did you all just wake up one day and decide we’re beneath you?”
Kaelin didn’t answer at first. Her spine straightened, the muscle in her jaw flexing as she set down her teacup with deliberate care. “It’s how it’s always been,” she answered finally, voice clipped.
“That’s not an answer. That’s a deflection wrapped in centuries of prejudice.”
Kaelin’s fingers twitched in her lap.
Ren leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Do you hate me?”
“I don’t always understand you. You’re reckless, obnoxiously loud, most often underdressed for when the occasion calls for it —”
Ren thinned her lips. “Should I give you parchment so you can finish the rest of that list, or is this the abridged version?”
“But,” Kaelin continued, “I’ve never seen anyone rise from so little and still keep their spine straight. You don’t bow when others would break. ”
Before Ren could find anything resembling a comeback, the doors to the dining hall slammed open.
Talen strode in, boots echoing loudly against the stone. His usually collected expression was pale. His eyes locked on Ren. “The dead have been sighted near Greymoore village.”
Ren straightened, shoving away her bowl of porridge. “How many?”
“Too many. We’ve already lost two scouting parties. If we don’t move now, the whole village will fall before dusk.”
“How many soldiers will be coming?”
Talen hesitated.
Ren narrowed her gaze. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “How many?”
His jaw clenched. “A handful. Most don’t want to risk the garrison for a village full of humans. They say… the loss isn’t worth it.”
Ren felt the silence around her turn brittle. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood, fury simmering just beneath her skin. But she willed it away with the urgency of the matter. “Then we go with however many soldiers we’ve got. Come on.”
Kaelin rose like a blade being unsheathed. “And I’ll personally make sure every coward is reminded what House Vaelaran stands for.”
“Father’s in council now,” Talen said. “He’s arguing options with the council members, trying to measure loss against gain.
He wants a plan.” His jaw worked as if grinding down words he hadn’t yet said.
“But I don’t think there’s time to wait for plans.
I’ll ready the horses.” Talen’s nod was brisk.
“I’ll ready the horses,” he repeated, voice threaded with something like resolve.
Ren nodded. “Let’s go.” As she followed Talen toward the exit, she caught Kaelin’s gaze once more, and for a flicker of a second, it held something Ren hadn’t expected.
Pride.
And maybe, just a sliver of faith.
The dead had to be burned .
Ren and Talen learned that in the space of one frantic, blood-soaked hour.
Severing their limbs didn’t stop them. Cut off a leg? The corpse dragged itself forward on a splintered bone. Slice through the neck? The head still snapped its rotten jaw as the body stumbled forward.
But fire silenced them for good.
The streets of Greymoore were slick with rain and mud. Most of the villagers had been evacuated, but not all had escaped the horde that swept in overnight, tearing through homes with an unstoppable hunger. Death clung to the air, and Ren’s boots squelched through mud turned black with blood.
The creatures were clumsy, but they learned. One staggered toward her gripping a rusty shovel, attempting to parry Ashrend with a swing as clumsy as a child’s.
But it wasn’t fast enough.
Ashrend sliced cleanly through its spine, sending it crumpling to the ground.
In the center of the square, Talen and Ren found a woman heavy with child lying amid the wreckage, half her body torn apart, her legs chewed down to bone. One of the dead was crouched over her, gnawing at her ribs until Talen’s sword drove it back into the dirt.
Ren knelt, pressing her hand against the woman’s trembling one. The woman’s lips were pale, cracked. Blood bubbled in her throat as she rasped, “Is my baby…?”
Ren’s gaze fell over the ruin of the woman’s lower body. Flesh mangled beyond repair, bones gleaming through shredded muscle.
There was no saving her or her baby.
Gauging the look on Ren’s face, the woman let out a low, broken moan. “Not my baby,” she wept, her hands gripping Ren’s fingers with desperate strength. “Anything but my baby…”
Ren’s vision blurred. She squeezed the woman’s hand, murmuring something, she didn’t know what. A promise. A lie. A prayer.
And then she sensed a shift in the air, a subtle hum of a familiar magic.
She turned and saw Talen standing nearby, his face set in quiet concentration. His hands glowed faintly with that crackling energy dark as midnight and threaded with faint embers of green .
The woman’s trembling eased. Her grip loosened. Slowly, her breath steadied, her panicked eyes softening into something that resembled peace. The woman’s smile waned, her breath a faint sigh.
And then she was gone.
Ren gently closed the woman’s glazed eyes. Talen’s steps were slow, measured as he came to kneel beside her. “I gave her something to hold onto,” he murmured. “I wanted to show her what her life might have been. With her child. She deserved that much.”
For a moment, Ren could only stare, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. “Why?” she asked hoarsely.
Talen’s jaw tightened. His eyes, dark as midnight, flickered faintly with green embers, the last traces of the magic he’d woven. “Because sometimes mercy isn’t just about ending suffering. It’s about giving someone a moment of peace before they cross beyond the Veil.”
Talen simply moved to gather the next body, his movements steady, his silence saying more than words ever could.
Talen had shown her what might have been. A life where they grew together, laughed together, grew old side by side. He’d given her that memory, that peace. Even if it was only an illusion.
Ren whispered a prayer for the woman’s safe passage across the Veil, brushing the woman’s hair gently back from her blood-streaked face.
“We’re not leaving them like this,” she announced, rising to her feet.
More soldiers trickled in, all of them silent, their expressions carved into grief-hardened restraint.
Ren turned at the sound of boots. Elric approached from the far side of the wreckage, torch in hand.
He gave Ren a brief, somber nod before bending to light another body.
Not one of them spoke, yet every motion carried the reverence of duty, as though words themselves might dishonor the fallen.
When at last the bodies were ablaze, they stood before the pyre. Sparks rose into the dusk like fleeting souls, vanishing into the night.
Ren felt the shift before she saw it.
Her blood turned to ice. She recognized it instantly. Magic .
Talen’s sword was already unsheathed. Ren drew Ashrend. Together they swept their eyes across the tree line.
A lone figure emerged from the trees.
Near Ren, Elric let out a curse .
“No,” Talen breathed, his voice a snarl beneath his breath. His canines bared in silent warning.
“Is this even possible?” Elric wondered. “I’ve heard of humans coming to life, but…”
The figure drew closer, stepping into the light. Their fears solidified into a cold, ugly truth.
A fae.
Dead, but moving.