35. Sacrifice
Sacrifice
I solde stepped out from behind Felix. His arm flung protectively to the side, blocking her, as if he alone would be able to stand against the combined might of the mages and warriors in front of them.
“I have not unleashed anything; I’ve simply set it free,” she said, lifting her chin and forcing herself to maintain eye contact with Kaeloth.
“You fool,” Kaeloth spat. “You think you’ve done something noble.
That you’ve saved something. Like a child fussing over a baby bird tossed out of its nest. You understand nothing.
The Arcaenum was stable. Controlled. You’ve ripped away the only thing that kept chaos from flowing through the realm along the ley lines!
” His voice grew louder with each word, echoing in the vast chamber.
Isolde held her ground, even as his words battered at her.
Her knees felt weak, her head light from the effort it had taken to unbind the Arcaenum.
Felix’s hands shook, his fingers clenched around the hilt of his axe so tightly his knuckles were white.
She straightened her spine, refusing to let Kaeloth see her weakness.
“What of the cost? You were draining the life of leytouched over centuries, chaining them to stone like sacrificial animals!”
“And what of the lives lost to gain your power, Lady Isolde?” Kaeloth lowered his voice. “What of the five mages who died on midsummer night, because you drained them of their very life’s essence? What about their lives? Was that worth the cost?”
“I didn’t – that wasn’t…” Isolde sputtered. Kaeloth’s face twisted into the shadow of a smile when he saw her falter.
“That was an accident,” Felix said before Isolde could form words. “Unintentional. Hardly the same thing.”
Kaeloth scoffed. “Does it matter to those left behind, how their loved ones died? It does not. What matters is that they are gone. If the Arcaenum remains unbound, more leytouched will appear. Each one is a permanent threat to mages everywhere. How many accidental deaths are acceptable to you, Lady Trevalyan?”
Her head was spinning, a spiking pain building up behind her eyes.
She grabbed onto Felix’s arm, not just for stability, but also to stop him from doing anything foolish.
A trickle of doubt entered her mind. Was Kaeloth right?
Had she unleashed death, rather than freedom?
She imagined accidentally killing Mia, or Otto, and her heart clenched. Had she been wrong all this time?
Behind her, a low hum reverberated from the core of the chamber, sending a ripple through the air.
The mages and mercenaries tensed, their eyes flicking around nervously.
A flash of the vision she had seen appeared in her mind, of a standoff in this very room.
No, she was right. She knew she was right.
Isolde licked her lips, struggling to find the words.
“I understand why you believe this is right,” she said, keeping her voice carefully calm and even.
“And I am sorry, truly, about your colleagues. But there must be another way. There was an… an order of leytouched once. Here at the Nexus. We can coexist peacefully; I know it is possible.”
Kaeloth’s expression tightened, a flicker of doubt flaring and immediately dying in his eyes.
“You know, do you? Vain idealism,” he said.
“I won’t let you run rampant, trying to create your own little army of leytouched at the expense of myself and my colleagues.
Mages have worked too long, too hard to achieve control over the flow of magic. ”
He took a step forward. “You will perform the ritual, Isolde Trevalyan. You will cooperate and bind the Arcaenum once more.”
“She will not, and you will be dead if you come any closer,” Felix snarled.
Kaeloth turned his gaze to him, cold and calculating. “What is it to you, sellsword? Stand down, and you’ll be paid the agreed upon sum. Then you can leave.”
Felix barked a laugh. “Not a fucking chance.”
Kaeloth’s eyes darted to Isolde, then back to Felix, studying them as if piecing together a puzzle.
He tilted his head slightly. “I see, I see,” he murmured, almost to himself.
His expression hardened. “Well, it is no matter. I will ask you politely one last time, Lady Isolde. Cooperate, or face the consequences.”
Isolde’s breath caught in her throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Felix frantically scanning the forces assembled in front of them.
Even if she said yes, he would never stand down.
He would die before he let them take her.
And when it came down to it… she’d rather die with him than face what Kaeloth intended.
She swallowed hard, steeling herself. “No,” she said simply.
“No?” Kaeloth said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you might say that. Which is why I’ve taken some precautions.” He waved a hand, and several more mercenaries entered the chamber, dragging two figures with them. Isolde’s heart plummeted into her stomach.
Luella and Mia, bound, bruised and bloodied but conscious, were pushed forward roughly.
Mia stumbled, catching herself before she hit the floor.
Her hair was dishevelled, her lute gone, her eyes blazing.
Luella’s face was hard, her gaze fixed ahead.
Blood trickled from a cut above her eyebrow.
Leif and Garren were nowhere to be seen.
“Let them go,” Isolde blurted out, hating how shrill her voice sounded. She started forward, but Felix held her back, his hand like a vice around her wrist.
Kaeloth lifted his chin, his expression almost pitying. “You are so na?ve,” he said, shaking his head. “How many lives, Lady Isolde? How many must die so you can live?”
Isolde’s breath came quick and shallow, her mind racing. Her gaze flickered to Mia and Luella .
“You smug, power-drunk bastard,” Mia snapped. “Don’t you dare listen to him, Isolde! Don’t give him –”
Her voice cut off with a choked grunt as the man restraining her jerked her backward and clamped a hand over her mouth. Mia thrashed against the hold, muffled curses escaping as her eyes burned with fury. Luella stood straight and silent, staring fixedly at Kaeloth.
The Arcaenum thrummed once more behind them. Two of the mages took a few hurried steps back.
Isolde swallowed hard, fists clenching at her sides. “You won’t hurt them,” she said, but the quaver in her voice betrayed her.
“Won’t I?” Kaeloth countered. He walked slowly towards Luella and raised a hand in her direction, then turned to look at Isolde once more.
“Well? How many sacrifices will we have to make here today? The decision is yours, Lady Isolde.”
“Don’t, Isa,” Felix whispered next to her.
Luella managed a faint smile. “Don’t give in, he’s bluffing,” she said, her voice wavering only a little. She stood straight and proud, but the glint of fear in her eyes was unmistakable.
Isolde was shaking so hard she thought everyone in the room would hear her teeth chattering.
She looked down at her own hand, the markings still dark, a cruel reminder of how drained and helpless she was.
There was nothing left in her, nothing. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t; it wasn’t right. She shook her head.
Kaeloth’s face was void of all expression.
He let out an almost imperceptible sigh, then swivelled his head to Luella with a resigned look.
His hand curled into a fist. A sickening snap echoed through the room, and Luella slumped down, legs folding beneath her, eyes rolling back.
The mercenary who’d been restraining her stepped away, looking horrified.
Luella slid down to the ground lifelessly, like a puppet with severed strings.
There was a roar in Isolde’s ears so loud she couldn’t think, drowning out everything else.
She was distantly aware of Felix cursing and rushing forward, only to be met by five drawn swords forcing him back.
Her eyes were glued to Luella’s still form on the floor, refusing to believe what she was seeing .
What if it isn’t too late?
She ran, darting past Felix, past the mercenaries, batting away hands grasping for her.
She fell to her knees next to Luella, but when she reached within, searching frantically for the weave, the thread, there was nothing.
The glaring absence of being, of soul, was so jarring it knocked the breath out of her.
For a heartbeat, she sat completely still, hoping in vain that Luella’s life force would reveal itself any moment now.
A chain of cold, heavy metal touched the skin of her neck, settling there like a snake poised to strangle her. Dragging her down into darkness, away from herself, away from her magic.
Then came the voice. It was icy and harsh, like her father, but so much worse. It scolded her, berated her, mocked her. What had she been thinking? That she could make a difference? It was laughable. The only thing she could do anymore was to give up. So she did.