Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
“Master.” The voice slithered from beneath the hood, thin enough to scrape the air. “You must be so cold out there. All alone.” The figure’s arms spread wide. “Come home.”
Rynna’s skin prickled, the chill rolling down her spine deepening when she caught the minute lift of Kaelith’s shoulders—stiffening even as the exhale left him in a restrained sigh.
“I failed you, apprentice.” His weight settled into one hip, feet braced. “No discipline. No respect.” A single talon rose, idly picking at his teeth. “Only the dead for playthings.”
The hooded shape moved closer, light from the barrier catching in the black voids of his eyes, highlighting the narrow slivers of green burning faintly in the center.
“Your only failure.” His grin spread, revealing fangs longer than Kaelith’s, curving nearly into his chin. “Was choosing that whore over me, Master.”
A laugh slipped out of Rynna before she could stop it. Of all the things. In the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
“You really scrambled this psycho, Kae.” She leaned into Fenn, pitching her voice just loud enough to be heard. “Let’s be done with it. I’ve got better uses for that tongue of yours than having it wag at a failed experiment.”
Skarn’s neck snapped toward her with a hiss. “I will suck the marrow from your bones!”
The hood fell back, and Rynna recoiled despite herself.
He had no hair—only the pale, patchy sheen of fleshy scales stretched over a too-thin skull. His jaw was all wrong, widened to hold those grotesque fangs.
“Ew.” Her nose scrunched as she peered over Kaelith’s shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t look like that underneath all the tricks before I saved your ass.” She stuck her tongue out in an exaggerated gag, shuddering. “So gross.”
“He was not prepared for the Great Serpent’s venom.” Kaelith’s posture eased, almost casual again. “Another failure on my part. Choosing poorly.”
Skarn practically vibrated at the words, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as the nearest dead dropped like stones, bodies falling in eerie silence.
Beside her, Fenn moved closer until his breath stirred her hair. “You sure it’s wise to rile up the weird little man-snake?”
Her mouth quirked. Fenn rarely went for taunting.
At once, Skarn’s hands found the end of his robe and ripped the fabric away, revealing the warped nightmare beneath. A serpent’s body coiled thick at his base, but from its sides jutted short, mismatched human legs, the flesh stretched and mottled as though something inside had tried to crawl free.
“The tick wanted all of you for itself.” Skarn’s green-lit eyes found Kaelith again, mock affection warping his face. “But you’ll be so much happier if I take you back. Won’t you, Master?”
Tick?
Rynna caught Fenn’s eye, a silent agreement passing between them as Kaelith’s chin dipped and his jaw loosened. The shadows in his gaze deepened, bleeding around bright purple vertical slits.
Rynna moved to his right, Fenn to his left, closing in like twin anchors at his flanks.
“Enough.” The word had barely left his mouth, before—
Gleaming black scales spilled across his skin as his body flowed forward, every motion a ripple—loose-limbed and fluid, but coiled with an unshakable precision. His feet barely kissed the scorched earth as if the ground itself bent for him.
Skarn’s eyes widened, then his arms lashed out, oily darkness spilling from his sides in long, writhing lengths.
The void snapped at Kaelith, jerking Skarn front and back with each strike, the movement uneven.
But Kaelith slipped through it all, his torso folding one way as his legs turned another, letting each black ribbon cut through the space his body had just abandoned.
Beside her, Fenn tensed, his weight shifting forward, fists curling in readiness.
“He needs to do this on his own,” Rynna said before he could move. “Besides.” Her tone dropped. “Skarn might still release the dead. Just watch.”
Kaelith bent left, just beyond the bite of another heavy tendril. The thing hit stone with a meaty crack, leaving spiderweb fractures racing out beneath the impact. Dust plumed. Kaelith ducked low, one arm trailing as though idly brushing the air, then his wrist jumped forward.
From the shadowed length of his sleeve, coils spilled, hissing as they struck. They twined around the thick base of Skarn’s tail, constricting tight enough to dent the pale scales, wrenching him sideways.
Muddy green flared in his eyes as his jaw split wide, spittle flying. He tore at the snakes, ripping through them in frantic jerks, limbs knotting in awkward jerks as his warped legs flailed for purchase.
Rynna’s heartbeat drummed against her ribs, her eyes locked on Kaelith. The shift in him was unmistakable—no more testing, no more teasing.
The air split with a hiss as blades, invisible but for the way flesh and scale peeled under their kiss, carved into Skarn.
Each pass drew a fresh line of black across pale hide, until one swipe cut clean through the base of a leg.
It dropped, twitching, into the grit. Another pass, another limb, each severance answered by Skarn’s ragged screech, his void whips flailing wider, wilder.
Kaelith’s satisfaction flooded through her core as the heat seeped low, until her pulse stuttered, falling into rhythm with his.
“Was he just testing us all those years, every time Fang Unit fought him?” Fenn murmured beside her. “I knew he was formidable, but…”
She didn’t answer; Kaelith was closing the circle now, each step narrowing the gap as the black tips of his claws lengthened into blades. Skarn’s strikes came slower, shadows clamping down where Kaelith no longer stood, until—
“You are not of the serpent bloodline, apprentice.” Kaelith’s words carried across the space. “You never were. You never will be.”
“I do not need to be of the blood.” Air hissed through Skarn’s teeth before a ragged laugh barked free. “My new god is beyond such limitations.”
Kaelith’s brow furrowed as the air flexed—sharp enough to make the fine hairs along Rynna’s arms lift.
“Shit—” She lunged, catching the back of Kaelith’s collar and hauling hard.
He crashed into her, the force knocking them both back as translucent fangs, each the length of her arm, slammed shut in the space he’d just occupied. The sound clapped the air like breaking bone, and momentum spun her half-around until her shoulder struck something solid—Fenn’s chest.
His arm came around without looking, bracing her and Kaelith both before setting them back on their feet. To their front, the shimmer of a spectral serpent hung for half a beat before fading into nothing, leaving the air colder, as if its absence had dragged the heat from the space.
“What—?” Her jaw hung open, eyes focused on Skarn as his body spasmed.
The movement rolled through him in jerks, arms and stumps wrenching out of socket as something beneath his skin forced its way through.
Grey, splotchy scales broke the surface, tearing away the paler layer in wet strips that dropped to the dirt at his feet.
The shift came in beats—swelling grotesquely, then stretching, each extension longer than the last.
By the time the last shreds dropped away, what faced them was no longer man at all—only a hulking, misshapen serpent, coils knotting around themselves as its head lowered.
Fangs like polished ivory caught the dim light, bared in a snarl that belonged to something far older and far hungrier than the man they’d been fighting.
Kaelith glanced over his shoulder at Rynna. “It seems the young fool has taken on this particular aspect of my old self, as well, though I doubt he can control it.”
Rynna’s mind flashed to the obsidian serpent at the Ascension, her fists clenching. “Of course, that was you.”
“Yes, pet.” He stepped back as the serpent’s head rose forty feet over them. “But my point stands. We should end this quickly before he completely loses control.”
Fenn glanced down at the long knife in his hand, turning it once between his fingers. “I think I need a bigger blade.”
Kaelith chuckled, but when Fenn didn’t so much as twitch a smile, the sound died flat in his throat.
“You already have what you need, my wolf.” Rynna turned, connecting the dots that had been left like breadcrumbs over their life together.
She’d suspected since that first drop she’d tasted—sensing the faint, wild note thrumming beneath the Veilroot haze. But she hadn’t recognized it then for what it was. Not fully. Not until now, seeing Kaelith so brazenly claim his bloodline, fighting Skarn.
Fenn would need to do the same to face whatever was behind that barrier.
Her hand rose, catching his jaw, guiding him down to her lips.
“Find the wolf within you,” she murmured against his mouth, “the one whose eye sees truth from lie. The ones your fool Elders tried to bury all these years.”
His breath came harder, and she bit, skin parting under her teeth, the salt-iron bloom spilling across her tongue.
His answer was soft at first—a single note buried deep within him. Then it stretched, raw and aching, pulling at the edges of her skin. His pupils widened, the warm brown of the left eye bleeding into molten silver to match the right once more until his gaze blazed, pinning her where she stood.
His fingers flexed, as muscles grew and joints popped, until blades of bone slid free—each half a foot long—twitching once before settling at his sides.
“How’s that?” She kissed the tips, feeling the cool, unnerving smoothness of the newly formed weapons.
“It will do.” Fenn flexed his hands, lips tugging into a grim smile as he glanced at Kaelith. “How do we bring it down?”
The serpent shrieked, the sound splitting the air as yellow venom trailed down in long threads from its fangs.
“Piece by piece, I imagine.” Kaelith licked his lips, looking at them, almost savoring the moment.
But the peace was soon broken. Just like that, the serpent launched at them, sudden as a wall collapsing.