Chapter 26 The Changeling
twenty-six
The Changeling
Zydar
The council chamber felt smaller in the dead of night.
Torchlight flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to pulse with the infected veins now spreading beneath my skin.
I kept my distance from the others, positioning myself near the far wall where the darkness could hide what I'd become.
The black rot had climbed higher since this afternoon. Dark tendrils now crept up my neck like grasping fingers, and I could feel the poison working its way through my system with each heartbeat.
Gryven took his usual position at my right hand, though I made certain to stay well beyond arm's reach. His pale eyes tracked my every movement, cataloguing details like the strategist he was. Beside him, Narietta settled into her chair with fae grace.
High Healer Varlath occupied the seat closest to me, his ancient hands folded over scrolls filled with experimental notes. He'd been the one to propose the heart extraction, his centuries of medical knowledge twisted into something darker by desperation.
Captain Kaelen of the Shadow Guard, Commander Velora of the Storm Wings were also here. At the far end, Councilor Thane spoke for the noble houses, while Master Seer Zoreth handled matters of prophecy and ancient lore.
Eight voices that would decide Miralyte's fate. Eight fae who thought they understood the cost of what they were about to demand.
"The trials continue to yield catastrophic results," Varlath began, "Each attempt to synthesize the girl's blood essence has resulted in transformations that mock the very concept of healing."
"The wing manifestation was merely the beginning," he continued, unrolling a scroll covered in clinical observations.
"Subject Seven experienced complete skeletal restructuring before her bones turned to glass.
Subject Nine's organs began reproducing themselves until his body cavity burst. Subject Twelve developed acidic secretions that dissolved her flesh from within. "
Narietta leaned forward, her expression troubled. "Is there any indication her heart could be used to reverse the effects?"
"Theoretically, it would take several years to test the possibility and ensure there are no further mutations or side effects."
"We don't have several years." Narietta's gaze shifted to me, and I saw the unspoken question in her eyes. "The Rot is spreading faster than we can contain it. Each day, more of our people are taken into the shadows."
I shook my head slightly, and she sighed.
"Which is precisely why we need the source itself," Kaelen said, "One life against thousands. The mathematics are quite simple."
"Mathematics." I let the word hang in the air like a curse. "Tell me, Councilor, when did we begin measuring the worth of souls in equations?"
Zoreth stirred in his seat, ancient eyes reflecting torchlight like pools of starfire. "The prophecies speak of great sacrifice in dark times. Perhaps this girl's death was always meant to be our salvation."
"Prophecies are guidance, not commands," I replied. "And I've seen enough death to know that sacrifice without certainty is simply murder dressed in noble words."
Velora spread her hands on the table, callused from years of handling storm-blessed weapons. "The outer territories have gone silent. My scouts report entire settlements consumed by rot. We're fighting a war we cannot win with conventional means."
"Then we find unconventional means that don't require killing the only hope we have." I let my gaze drift to each face around the table. "If the heart extraction fails, we lose our only weapon against the Rot."
"It seems clear that you're simply too attached to this human girl to make a decision based on logic." Thane said, leaning back into his chair.
I clenched my fists beneath the table, forcing myself to remain calm.
Varlath cleared his throat, commanding attention with the subtle authority of age and knowledge. "I call for a formal vote. All in favor of proceeding with the heart extraction?"
Hands rose around the table in slow succession. Gryven's first, his loyalty to the realm overriding his friendship with me. Narietta's followed, though I saw her fingers tremble slightly. Varlath, Kaelen, Velora, Thane, and finally Zoreth.
Seven hands. Unanimous consent to murder.
I pushed away from the table, my chair scraping against stone. "This is not a gathering of equals. Your votes are counsel, nothing more."
"Lord Zydar," Thane began, diplomatic training evident in his careful words, "surely you understand the impossible position—"
"It is my fault that you've forgotten your place.
" I let forth the thunder in my voice. Lightning began to dance between my fingers, blue-white energy that made the torches gutter and flare.
"I understand that desperation has made you willing to become the very monsters we're supposed to be fighting. "
"We've seen the consequences of the trials," I continued, letting more energy build until the very air crackled with potential violence. "Your plans failed before they even began. Killing Miralyte will achieve nothing. It may even make it worse."
Every piece of glass in the chamber exploded simultaneously. Windows burst outward in crystalline cascades. Ancient goblets shattered like dreams. The mirror above the fireplace spider-webbed before collapsing in a symphony of destruction.
In the ringing silence that followed, I spoke with quiet finality. "This is not happening. The girl lives. Find another way or learn to die with dignity."
One by one, they departed. Muttered protests and meaningful glances, but no one dared voice direct opposition. Not after witnessing what restrained power could accomplish.
Only Gryven remained.
My oldest friend waited until the door sealed behind Zoreth before approaching. I moved toward the balcony, putting distance between us while trying to make the movement seem natural rather than desperate.
The night air struck my face like absolution, cool and clean after the suffocating atmosphere of political necessity. I gripped the stone railing and gazed out at the palace grounds below, acutely aware of Gryven's presence behind me.
"You cannot shield her indefinitely," he said finally.
"Watch me."
"This transcends protection now, Zy. This is about the continuation of our entire civilization."
I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, tracking storm clouds that gathered with unnatural speed. The weather responded to my emotional state more than usual lately. Another symptom of the rot's progression.
"You are no king if you let a woman's death undo you," Gryven continued, frustration sharpening his words.
I turned to face him, keeping the railing between us like a protective barrier. "Is that your assessment? That romantic attachment has compromised my judgment?"
"What else could explain this madness? You've known her for mere months, yet you're prepared to watch thousands die to preserve her life?"
"I'm prepared to find a way without this foolishness."
"There are no other solutions!" He stepped closer, and I had to resist the urge to retreat. "We've explored every possibility. Her death represents the only remaining path forward."
"The only path? Gryven. This path is but a guess. Why is it so hard to carve a new, more certain path?"
Gryven shook his head, expression mixing pity with exasperation. "You're not reasoning clearly. This obsession with the human girl has distorted your priorities beyond recognition. Never have you disregarded our counsel before. "
"My priorities remain exactly where they should be."
"Your priorities should align with your people. With the realm you've sworn to protect. Not with some mortal girl who—"
"Enough." The word carried layers of power, authority that could bring lesser fae to their knees in submission. But Gryven had known me too long to be cowed by such displays.
Instead, he moved closer, his hand reaching toward my arm in a gesture of old friendship. "Zy, listen to reason—"
Instinct overwhelmed strategy. Lightning erupted from my skin in a defensive barrier, crackling energy that forced Gryven back several paces.
"What in the seven realms?" Gryven stared at me with widening eyes, his hand still extended toward empty space.
Too late, I realized my mistake. The sudden burst of protective magic had pulled my shirt tight against my chest, revealing the dark veins that now spread from my heart toward my throat. In the moonlight, they resembled black lightning frozen beneath my skin.
Gryven's expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror. "No. My Lord. The Rot has taken you."
I adjusted my shirt, attempting to conceal the evidence, but the damage was complete. "It's nothing."
"Nothing? " he echoed, jaw dropping. "By the Mother, how long have you been hiding this?"
"The situation remains under control."
"Under control?" Gryven laughed, but no humor touched the sound. Only bitter recognition of irony. "You're infected with a plague that's consumed thousands, and you consider it controlled?"
"I can manage the progression."
"For how long? Days? Hours?" He ran both hands through his hair, pacing the balcony's length. Then his eyes narrowed and he shot me an accusing glare. "You’ve been hiding this, because you know that this changes everything. Not just for the realm, but for you specifically. You knew that if it was revealed that you had the Rot, the girl’s life would be forfeit. ."
"I will not trade her life for mine."
"Then you're a fool of the highest order." He whirled to face me, eyes blazing with desperate determination. "That's settled, then. I'm informing the council about your condition. You have no choice but to authorize the procedure. We are not allowing you to die."
"Gryven—"
He ignored me and started toward the door, moving with the purposeful stride of a man who'd found unshakeable resolve.
Above us, the sky suddenly split open.
A crack of brilliant white light tore across the heavens, accompanied by thunder that shook the palace's very foundations. But this wasn't natural storm magic. This was something else entirely.
The illumination originated from the direction of the Storm Leaping chamber.
For a few moments the light dazed me, political machinations momentarily forgotten in the face of this new impossibility. Then suddenly, I knew what had happened, I felt it in my gut and a curl of desperation unfurled within me.
I launched myself skyward, wings of pure energy carrying me toward the disturbance.
She was going to step through. She was going to leave.
Part of me wanted to let her go, to watch her disappear where fae politics and dying courts couldn't touch her.
But I looked past the portal. The landscape beyond wasn't right.
Gods, what insanity had she done?!
Those weren't the rolling meadows of the human realm. The sky held an unfamiliar cast of orange and gold. Strange memories rose unbidden in my mind… it seemed familiar, yet unknown.
More importantly, how had she managed to open a portal at all?
Muscles straining, I forced my wings to propel me to her.
Before she could take that final step, I launched myself forward again, gritting my teeth with effort. My arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the threshold with enough force to send us both stumbling away from the gateway's edge.
"Let me go!" she gasped, struggling against my grip.
But I wasn't looking at her face anymore. I was staring at her eyes.
They glowed. Not golden like the eyes of the high court, but crimson. The very same crimson as my own eyes.
I breathed, the words falling from my lips like a revelation that should have been obvious from the beginning. "It's you. You're the changeling."