23. Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Tairngire’s laugh was jagged, scraping the edges of rage. “Choice?” He stepped forward, the forest trembling with the weight of him. “You dare cry of burden, when your choice was to kneel to the King of Ash? To bind yourself in black thread and spit on your mortal blood?”
The man flinched. Tairngire’s voice grew lower, the way it did when he was barely containing his rage.
“You weren’t born wolf. You weren’t born wretch.
Mortals are given paths. You could have died with flame in your chest and soil at your back.
But you,” his swords flashed, glowing green arcs in the dark as he pointed at the alpha.
“You traded freedom for the very chains you now curse. You dare snarl of suffering when you bowed to it?”
The alpha’s chest heaved, his eyes flicking to the tree I hid behind.
“And what would you have done, Chéadchumtha?” His voice cracked.
“Watched your child starve? Watched your wife wither on a pallet of fucking straw? Tell me, Stagborn, what does dignity taste like when your bloodline begs in the filth?”
Tairngire’s stare held daggers, his chest rising and falling like a tide behind clenched teeth. For once, he didn’t seem to have an answer.
And I—I couldn’t. My heart split raw between them. The god spit truth like fire. The mortal bled grief into the dirt. Neither was fully wrong. Neither was fully right. All I could think was that the Fates spun cruelty into every choice.
The air split with Tairngire’s fury as he raised a glowing blade. “Tell me, wolf,” his voice thundered, “what death do you choose? Because you’ll crawl back to your master now, but not when he calls.”
The alpha crouched, trembling, sweat dripping as his human face flickered with rage. His lips parted—
“Stop!”
The word tore out before I knew I’d moved. My feet hit the earth, my voice raw. “Enough. He's beaten, can't you see? Spare him. Show mercy.”
Tairngire hesitated mid-swing. His sword hung inches from its mark, humming with power.
The alpha’s gaze slid to mine. His eyes—red still, rimmed with madness—hardened. “You’d cry mercy for a creature that would tear your throat out the moment you blinked?” He scoffed, a savage sound. “Foolish mortal. Mercy is simply another name for weakness. You’ll die screaming like the rest.”
The words scraped like claws against my skin.
Tairngire snapped. His furious gaze bore into me, voice cutting like a rusted blade. “See what you defend?”
He shook his head and tsk'd, towering over the beaten mortal in front of him.
The sword in his right hand disappeared so fast I would have missed it if I blinked. He grabbed the alpha's chin in his strong grip, forcing the man to look him straight in the eye. "I want you to know that I actually would have considered mercy. But then, you chose to speak to her."
The laugh he let out was downright feral. "The funniest part is that I don't even give a fuck about what you said."
Tairngire jerked the alpha's head so that his wild eyes were focused on me. "Look at her. I want the last thing you see to be the only person in this entire fucked up realm brave enough to ask a merciless god to spare your pathetic life."
I blinked and the sword fell in a flash of rune-lit steel, swift and ruthless. The alpha’s cry was cut short as his head detached from his body, rolling on the ground until his lifeless black eyes looked up at me, mere inches from my feet.
I stumbled, my knees buckling as I hit the ground. My stomach lurched with anger, grief and shame. Vomit erupted without warning, a hand pressed to the dirt did nothing to steady me. The forest went quiet again save for the ringing in my ears.
Fury burned out until only ash remained. I wanted to scream, but I was stunned silent. Instead I sat trembling, hollowed out. My Sight was no comfort—the colors and threads hung dark and heavy.
Tairngire stood over the corpses like a shadow carved in forest fire. When he regarded me, it was with bemusement. His eyes lingered on my shaking hands and the sickening pile in front of me. The way I held myself tight. He didn’t look so untouchable then.
“You carry too much,” he said quietly. No condemnation, just truth. “Even the Sight weighs heavier on you than it should.”
He was right, of course, and I hated it. I forced myself upright, my legs threatening to drop me.
His hand closed around my arm, steadying me. “We can’t leave yet,” he went on, harder now. “They were after it, too. The Obsidian Heart. The Ash King has more than wolves in this realm.” His green eyes flashed once. “We can’t let him reach it first.”
I tried to walk, but my body gave out. Exhaustion left me trembling. My knees collapsed.
I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say. So many curses I wanted to spit at him. But I was weary.
Tairngire caught me easily, swinging my legs under an arm and holding me close to his chest as he started walking.
“Put me down,” I growled, fists thudding weakly against his chest.
The runes under his leathers pulsed faintly with heat against my knuckles.
“I can walk.”
He chuckled. “If that’s what you call walking, Little Seer.” His voice dipped like a private joke.
I wanted to fight him, claw at him until he let me go. But the warmth of his arms wore me down faster than I’d admit. My eyelids grew heavy despite myself.
“You’re a terrible god,” I muttered, all bite fading from my voice.
“And yet here you are,” he murmured, arrogance melting away. It was almost like a blanket instead of the blade it usually was.
“How? How can Fate be so cruel? See what it does? The suffering creates monsters.”
“Fate does what it must. Every mortal pays for their mistakes. Across lifetimes.” He paused for a few moments. Then, he grew quieter. “Your visions have all been…cruel lately, haven’t they?”
That was one way to put it. I didn’t dignify it with a response. He clearly already knew the answer.
He liked to do that, I’d noticed. Ask questions he already knew the answer to. It was another thing he did that triggered my violence. I could have sworn he did it on purpose to provoke my fire. But unfortunately for him, my flames were snuffed out just then.
Silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. I couldn’t sleep and as if he could sense it, he spoke again.
“I will tell you this. Not every soul is inherently evil. Not every soul deserves what has been tainting the Everwoven. But that one did. There is no honor in watching your brethren die for you. That being said, Karthmor may have its claws in more than I thought. Which is why we need to find the Heart, and quickly. But you,” his voice softened, “need to rest. You will be of no use if you’re unable to walk. ”
Of course, I was being used for my Sight. Yet again. A stark reminder of the collar closing tighter around my neck. His rare showing of gentleness had a purpose.
Frustration ran through me, but my exhaustion won out in the end. My thoughts scattered as the realm blurred. Sleep dragged me under, unwanted and heavy. The last thing I knew was the rise and fall of his chest and the truth I didn’t want to face—that in his arms, I actually felt safe for once.