Chapter 11 #4
Ulric dragged him toward a cluster of stone outcroppings nearby. The rock there was colder, shaded from the pale light above. He eased Aldric down, propping his back against the stone.
Aldric’s hand slipped.
The shard fell to the ground.
Ulric looked at it.
The deep blue glow pulsed faintly beneath the strange alloy surface.
He didn’t touch it.
“Very wise.”
A voice broke the silence.
Ulric was on his feet instantly.
Mace raised.
Ready.
A demon stood a short distance away.
Yet not like any demon Ulric had seen before.
He stood relaxed, almost casual, as if the tension in the air did not concern him in the slightest.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His skin was dark, like iron tempered in fire, etched with faint lines that glowed softly, as if heat still lived beneath the surface.
His horns curved back along his head, smooth and worn like polished obsidian shaped by centuries.
His eyes shifted subtly beneath a heavy brow, crimson one moment, deep blue the next.
“Who are you?” Ulric demanded.
The demon smiled faintly.
“I see the mace fits you. I hoped you would find it useful, Ulric.”
Ulric frowned.
“What— how do you know my—” Then it dawned on him. “You’re the one who gifted Aldric his sword. And that armor. Varnir?”
“Indeed.”
Ulric glanced back at Aldric.
“What happened to him?”
The demon’s gaze moved to Aldric.
Calm and measured.
“He took more than he was meant to. His soul is not yet ready for it. A splinter broke off inside him and is moving through him… slowly dividing what should remain whole. If it’s not removed, he dies.”
Ulric stepped forward.
“Can you help him? Can you remove it?”
The demon shook his head slowly.
“Only one shaped by soul-binding can pull it free.”
Ulric’s jaw tightened.
“Which is?”
The demon smiled again.
“The very kind you sought to destroy your whole life.”
Ulric cursed under his breath.
He was still for a moment.
“Which way to that cursed land?”
The demon lifted one hand and pointed.
Down the mountain.
A narrow path winding toward the valley below.
And there—
A faint shimmer.
A portal.
Ulric moved immediately, stepping toward Aldric.
Varnir stepped forward as well.
He bent down, picked up the shard from the ground, and slipped it into a small pouch threaded with silver and gold.
“Here,” he said, offering it. “Now it can be safely carried.”
Ulric took it, not fully understanding, and fastened it to his belt.
Then he lifted Aldric over his shoulder.
Turned.
The blacksmith held the mace out toward him.
Ulric took it.
“I hope we meet again, Ulric.”
Ulric gave a short nod.
Then he started down the path.
? ? ?
Zira sat on the edge of the low stone bench, swinging her legs idly as she watched Nyxelle pace the room.
“She still hasn’t come out?” Zira asked, softer now.
Nyxelle shook her head.
“Barely eats. Won’t speak to anyone. Vaeris tried. I tried. Even Kaela knocked yesterday.” She sighed. “Nothing.”
Zira frowned, her usual playful expression dimming.
“That’s not like Saphie…”
“No,” Nyxelle agreed quietly. “Not at all.”
She sighed.
“We just need to give her some time. She’ll come around. She always does…”
Silence lingered between them for a moment.
Then Zira tilted her head.
“So… how is Reirdan doing?”
Nyxelle froze.
Then she blushed.
Zira immediately leaned forward, eyes lighting up.
“Oh? Oh! That blush—”
Nyxelle tried to compose herself, but the smile betrayed her.
“He… took me on a walk.”
“A walk?” Zira repeated, leaning even closer.
Nyxelle nodded softly.
“The most romantic walk of my life…”
Zira gasped dramatically.
“No.”
Nyxelle nodded again.
“He knew this ridge overlooking the glowing dunes… and there were these small floating lights… and he—”
Zira covered her mouth, already grinning.
“And…?”
Nyxelle turned even redder.
“Well…”
Zira leaned forward.
“Well?!”
Nyxelle looked away, smiling.
“Reirdan slept for a whole day afterwards.”
Zira burst into giggles.
“Oh gods.”
Nyxelle joined her, both of them laughing quietly.
“I like him,” Zira said after a moment, wiping the corner of her eye. “He’s so charming.”
“And gentle,” Nyxelle added softly.
“And big,” Zira added with a mischievous grin.
Nyxelle nudged her.
“Hey!”
“What? I’m just saying. He has that energy. Ugh, I need to find a decent man—”
The air shifted.
Subtle.
Like a ripple across still water.
Both of them stopped.
They looked toward the far end of the terrace.
Reality shimmered.
Softly.
Like heat over stone.
Something was forming.
Slowly.
A small tear in the air.
Zira tilted her head.
“Aww…”
Nyxelle leaned closer.
“So shiny…”
The ripple pulsed faintly, silver-white light flickering at its edges.
Curious.
Beautiful.
They stepped closer.
The shimmer faded slowly, leaving nothing behind.
They exchanged a glance.
“Huh,” Zira murmured.
“Kaela is probably experimenting with portal magic again,” Nyxelle said.
They turned and began walking back toward the chambers.
Behind them—
The air whispered.
A faint voice.
“Vel’thera s?n Celyndor.”
A second whisper followed.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
“Traitor.”
The air stilled.
And the shimmer vanished completely.