Chapter 63
—Connak—
Connak stared into M’Ran as the trees crumbled, crushing the stone architecture that once loomed high.
The pride of M’Ran finally fell. With Danek gone, Connak stood as the only survivor left in his clan.
He shook his arms, waving off the sorrow.
There was no time to grieve what was lost before they arrived.
Turning to Broan and Ruva, Connak’s attention fixated on Baila standing near them. She stuck out among the group like a wound that refused to heal. Connak only scoffed. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”
Baila’s shoulders hunched. She nodded and swallowed hard.
Connak sighed, his energy too low to fight.
She helped them in the end, something he tried to give her credit for.
“Given the circumstances, I have time to hear you out. Why are you still here?” His voice was smooth, but his words carried an edge.
He sat against a tree, twirling the hilt of his sword in his hands.
Broan remained frozen. If looks could kill, he’d have sliced into Baila minutes ago. Connak wondered why Broan hadn’t already turned to rage, though Connak could swear he saw a single tear rolling down Broan’s face.
He waved his hand toward Baila. “Go on.”
Baila shifted, shoulders tensing as she studied the men in front of her. “I didn’t mean to kill anyone. Especially not Danek. He was my friend.”
“Ah.” Connak turned his sharp eyes toward her. “And Kienna didn’t mean to destroy M’Ran, but it’s still destroyed. She’ll wake up in the morning with that on her shoulders. And you killed Danek. Even if it was Vaerin’s magic that made you do it. So, I’ll ask again. Why are you still here?”
Baila exhaled, lips pressing into a thin line.
The trees dipped lower in her presence. “There’s nothing left for me now.
” Her voice lacked its usual defiance, presenting itself broken and full of regret.
“I thought by siding with him, I would have a place. That I could hate Kienna, and that would fuel me.” Tears dropped into the soil, flowers curling around the water.
“I was wrong…” She looked up. “The king…he’s…
He almost killed me. Danek swiped me with the shadow blade in Dove Port, and King Vaerin nearly let the darkness take me.
” Baila looked directly at Connak, her eyes haunted by the memories coursing through her mind.
“I would never kill him. I swear. Never Danek.”
Connak faced the sky, the red glow of M’Ran flashing in the clouds. Kienna’s anguish lashed like a whip in his head. Ruva paced the leaves, whimpering. Her snarl never left Baila, but the wolf was clearly as disheveled as Connak.
“I’d like to offer myself as a prisoner,” Baila said through the fog of silence. “Please. I’ll disclose everything I know and accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even…” She gulped. “Death.”
“No one trusts you, bitch,” Broan spat, stepping forward as if he might be the one to provide her swift punishment. Baila flinched but remained in place.
Connak studied her lazily. He didn’t have the energy through Kienna’s grief and his own to examine further.
He only nodded. He wasn’t sure if Baila was using Vaerin’s manipulation or if she held true to her feelings.
All he knew was that she posed a threat to everything they wanted to accomplish.
Keeping her prisoner might not have been the worst idea.
He could hand her off to the Elvish soldiers to deal with.
He stood. “Broan, take her back. We’ll bind her with magic. ”
Baila shifted at the mention of Broan. Her eyes darted between them.
Connak extended his hands, wrapping silver threads of energy around Baila’s wrists.
They pulled taut with restraint. “You,” he said with a growl, “will renounce your magic to me. That will be the start of proving your sincerity and ensuring there is nothing inside that Vaerin can use you for to find our city.”
Pulling magic from another was nearly impossible.
Connak wasn’t even sure he could truly do it, but the Elvish would never let them bring Baila in without the task done.
Only Seredai had the power to manipulate magic.
She often dabbled right at the edge of darkness—enough to be efficient but not enough to sink to the lower levels of Dark Priesthood.
It would be a risk to Connak’s magic if he failed.
Baila stared at her hands for a long time. Bowing her head, she sighed. “Do it.”
There were two versions of the incantation Connak wanted to use. One was shorter, but it risked far more than he was comfortable with. To do it right, he would have to repeat a longer spell, and he barely knew the words.
“This may hurt,” he said. Connak closed his eyes, waving his hands over hers. “Len va rineth seran thas. Len va shal seran naedral. Na seran lo ess aeshir thas. Aeshir va ess valen ien. I give your magic to the river, and your soul is now my oath.”
A speckle of green power passed from Baila to Connak as he siphoned her magic into a dormant state.
When she looked up again, her eyes shone less vibrantly.
Except her magic didn’t leave Connak to return to the nature it came from.
Her magic stayed with him. It lived, buzzing against the base of his skin, clawing at him to get back to Baila.
Connak noted it, decided to process it later, and moved on.
He pushed Baila over to Broan. The Viking took her stiffly and led her away, casting another sorrowful glance back at the falling city before disappearing behind the trees.
Connak waited outside M’Ran until nightfall, watching as the last remnants of the city fell into ruin. When the silence finally settled, he ventured back into the rubble. What was left was unrecognizable, hardly the image of what was once a city.
Kienna lay on the ground beside Danek’s lifeless body, her sobs barely audible, her body curled inward as if to shield him from the truth.
She was drained, nothing more than a husk of grief.
The silver glow of the moon illuminated them, and the forest trees bellowed with the wind.
Connak’s heart nearly shattered at the sight of a fractured woman, once rebuilding, now fully broken again.
Rubble crumbled around them. The air reeked of ruin, smoke, burned resin, and broken stone.
The remnants of magic stained their presence as it wove through the chaos.
The sight of his birthplace, reduced fully to ruin by the woman he vowed his life to, was nearly too much to bear.
Connak moved carefully. As he knelt beside her, he brushed against her mind to soothe it before another surge of chaos could erupt. He expected a larger fight to bring her back, but she was tapped emotionally. The rage burned itself out, leaving her empty.
Come, Little Flame. Ruva’s voice mourned in their heads.
Kienna’s charm lay half-buried in the dirt. Connak picked it up, the weight of it heavier than it should have been and gently placed it back around her wrist. Kienna barely reacted, her fingers weakly wrapping around the frayed twine. Connak went to lift her, but she gripped his arm in protest.
“Don’t leave him,” she whispered, her voice wrecked.
“We’ll come back, I promise,” Connak said, his throat bobbing. “I’ll preserve him until then.”
She stared at Danek’s pale face for what felt like an eternity before finally standing.
She turned, eyes glazed over, looking at the ruins around them.
Her clothes were soaked through with Danek’s crimson blood.
She was a nightmare shedding itself into reality.
More tears slipped down her cheeks. Connak fought his own, knowing he’d never be able to help her through this.
“Oh, Connak,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed hard, his voice gentle. “Let’s go.”