Delthien’s transformation under the empire is a study in purpose over tradition. Its grand marketplaces were cleared for barracks, its canals fortified to serve imperial fleets. What was once a symbol of connection now bristles with defenses, a city turned fortress.

  — A Study of Giantridge Expansion, Aldemar of Isithrawen

  “What brings you to Delthien?” The Hovnsgard’s voice was as unyielding as the iron gates behind him, carrying the weight of imperial authority. Its resonance demanded more than an answer—it demanded submission.

  We exchanged a glance, a fleeting but steadying gesture of shared determination. Elreak stepped forward, his movements deliberate, each step a calculated display of calm. “We are merchants,” he said, his voice even, measured. “Travelers seeking wares to restock our shops in Rythien.”

  Perched atop the terie, Ceolbert chuckled, the sound low and dismissive, cutting through the air like a blade. “Merchants, is it?” he asked, the words drawn out, steeped in skepticism. His smirk widened, thin and pointed, as if mocking the sheer audacity of our claim. “And what might merchants such as yourselves be doing so far from anything worth trading?”

  Elreak didn’t flinch, his spear still resting with casual precision. “The road took its toll,” he replied, the edge of weariness creeping into his words, as though even recounting the journey added weight to his frame. “Our goods are sold, and we’ve sent them ahead to Rythien. Now, we’re here to arrange for more.”

  Ceolbert tilted his head, his narrow gaze raking across us. His expression was one of detached amusement, but the cold calculation behind his eyes was unmistakable. “A fascinating tale,” he said, each word soft yet cutting. He leaned slightly forward, his voice dropping into a mockery of warmth. “Tell me, merchants, how do you explain the absence of any visible coin or letters of trade?”

  The question hovered like a predator waiting for weakness. Elreak hesitated, but only for a breath. “Our last supplier,” he said, each word careful, deliberate, “prefers to deal in advance payments. We left what we had in trust.”

  For a moment, Ceolbert said nothing, his smirk fading into something sharper, colder. Then he shook his head, a quiet, mocking laugh escaping his lips. “How convenient,” he murmured. “But no—your story doesn’t convince me.” He straightened, his voice taking on the clipped precision of authority. “And I cannot risk the empire’s safety by allowing anyone who could be an enemy to enter our great city.”

  With a snap of his fingers, Ceolbert summoned two GOLEMs from the shadowed interior of the city gates. Their emergence was a spectacle of precision, each mechanical footfall reverberating like the toll of a grim bell.

  “Traitors identified,” one announced, its voice cold and metallic, devoid of emotion yet laden with menace. The illumination of its triangular emblem pulsed with eerie intent, its stark glow defying the daylight. “Initiate termination.”

  Ceolbert raised his arm with a deliberate flourish, then dropped it sharply. From the walls above, a volley of arrows rained down. The sharp hiss of their flight gave way to the violent crack of impact against the ground. Dust and debris exploded into the air, a suffocating cloud that forced us to dive for cover.

  I barely registered the hand that grabbed me, yanking me away from the chaos and toward a craggy outcrop. The motion sent me stumbling, but I managed to steady myself as Elreak crouched beside me. His sharp green eyes scanned my face with concern.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone low but urgent, each word deliberate as though spoken through gritted teeth.

  “I’m fine,” I managed, though my breath came quick and shallow. My hands tightened into fists to ground myself. “What about the others?”

  Elreak shifted just enough to peer over the edge of our cover. His body remained taut, ready to react in an instant. “Still in one piece,” he murmured, the words laced with a relief that softened the tension in his expression—if only for a moment. “For now.”

  The dust began to settle, revealing the cold, unyielding figures of the GOLEMs. They had formed a tight circle around us, their mechanical limbs unnervingly synchronized, weapons aimed and ready. Their silence carried a weight far more oppressive than the cacophony of arrows.

  “Well, well, well.” Ceolbert’s voice sliced through the uneasy quiet like a blade. He sauntered into view, his gait leisurely, as if savoring our helplessness. The cruel lilt of his tone was unmistakable. “It seems you’ve been caught, traitors.”

  Ignoring the encroaching threat of the GOLEM, I rose to my feet, the weight of the moment pressing against my chest. I turned my gaze upward, fixing my eyes on the spires where the archers stood like shadows against the light. My voice broke through the tense air, clear and unwavering.

  “Archers of the Prolog! Listen to me!” The words carried a certainty I hadn’t felt before—a resonance that was mine alone, no longer tainted by guilt or hesitation. “We are not your enemies. Open your eyes and see the truth for yourselves.”

  “Traitors found,” the nearest GOLEM intoned, its mechanical voice slicing through the air. “Initiating termination.”

  The red glow of its charging weapon caught the corner of my vision, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I kept my focus on the archers. “I’m not asking you to abandon your posts or lay down your weapons without cause,” I continued, my tone steady and resolute. “But think about the empire you serve. The GOLEMs—these machines of steel and servitude—don’t fight for you. They fight to control you, to strip you of your freedom, to take away the choice that makes you who you are.”

  The archers remained still, their expressions masked by distance and shadow. But the tension in the air was palpable, as though the very fabric of the moment could tear at any second. Then, one archer shifted, stepping forward just enough to break the formation.

  “We’ve defeated GOLEMs before,” I said, my voice rising, commanding attention now. “And we will do it again. They are mindless tools of oppression, and they crumble when we stand together. You have the power to choose—aim your arrows at those who would see you bound to chains of fear and control. Aim at the empire that cares for no one but the Bloodswords.”

  Ceolbert’s voice cut through my words like ice, sharp and dismissive. “Pay no heed to their nonsense,” he commanded, his tone thick with scorn. “They only seek to divide us. The empire has protected you, given you safety, purpose. Do not let traitors twist your loyalty into treason.”

  The archers hesitated, their bows still drawn but their resolve cracking like fissures in stone. Two lowered their weapons, the tension releasing as arrows slid back into quivers.

  I glanced at the GOLEM that had taken aim at me, its red lights climbing steadily toward the triangular emblem etched into its chest. Each passing second seemed to carry the weight of inevitability, the glow intensifying with a mechanical precision that was almost hypnotic.

  Above us, Ceolbert raised his arm, his voice carrying across the battlefield with cold, unyielding authority. “Your duty is to serve the empire,” he declared, his tone smooth but sharp, like a blade sliding into its sheath. “To protect its interests and uphold its dominion. The enemy before us is not just these rebels but a threat to the very foundations of our benevolent society—the stability that allows you to live free of fear.”

  The archers hesitated, their bows wavering as his words settled over them like a shroud. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as the lines between loyalty and conscience blurred.

  Ceolbert’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with a fury that seemed to ignite his words. “Fire!” he barked, the command cracking like a whip.

  Arrows were loosed, their flight a coordinated rush of deadly precision. But they did not strike us. Instead, the shafts pierced the GOLEMs, sinking into their mechanical plating with sharp, metallic impacts. Sparks erupted from the wounds, and the machines faltered, their movements stuttering as though in disbelief.

  Ceolbert stood frozen for a heartbeat, his composure splintering as the reality of the archers’ defiance settled in. The smug confidence that had defined his features melted into something colder, more dangerous. His lips twisted into a snarl, his voice seething with barely restrained rage. “You have made your choice, Delthien,” he spat. “Gather the reserves! Bring them forth!”

  “Acknowledged,” one of the GOLEMs intoned, its voice as cold and unyielding as the machines themselves. “Arrival imminent. Warning: next nearest backups are one day away.”

  Before the words had fully registered, a red beam lanced through the air, striking the rock in front of us. The impact shattered the stone into a cloud of debris, the force rattling the ground beneath our feet. Three GOLEMs, their frames bristling with arrows that had barely slowed them, turned their attention toward us. One raised its weapon, the red glow of its charging mechanism casting an ominous light.

  Elreak’s gaze met mine, his expression sharp and determined. Without speaking, we both nodded, a silent pact forged in the chaos. He gripped his spear with the steadiness of someone accustomed to life-or-death decisions, while I drew my daggers, their familiar weight grounding me.

  Moving as one, we surged forward. I darted toward the nearest GOLEM, my blades carving a precise arc as they sliced through one of its arms. Sparks burst from the wound, and the red light crawling toward its emblem stuttered and died.

  A beam seared the ground near me, erupting into a plume of dust and throwing me off balance. I hit the ground hard, my breath knocked from my lungs. As I struggled to my feet, the GOLEM I’d struck turned toward me, its remaining arm raised, the glow of its weapon nearly at full charge.

  Metal met metal in a piercing clang, and the red glow faltered, then stopped entirely. Elreak’s spear had struck true, severing the machine’s mechanism with precision. He offered me a quick, grim smile before turning to face the next GOLEM, his movements fluid and purposeful.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Ceolbert muttered, his voice thick with disdain as he surveyed the battlefield. Arrows continued to rain down, peppering the GOLEMs without halting their advance. His lips curled into a sneer. “Bring Delthien to its knees. Leave nothing standing. Leave no witnesses.”

  “Acknowledged,” the machines responded, their collective reply as relentless as their march. The thunder of their weapons filled the air, each discharge punching holes into the port city’s walls. Stone crumbled and splintered, smoke rising as if the city itself were exhaling in pain.

  The nearest GOLEMs shifted their focus, their weaponry turning toward the walls. The brief reprieve allowed Elreak and me to retreat, weaving through the rubble until we reached the others.

  “Is everyone okay over here?” Elreak asked, his voice low but urgent.

  Halaema, her face drawn but resolute, nodded as she quickly assessed the group. The students huddled close, their eyes wide with fear. “We’re unhurt,” she said, her calm voice an anchor in the chaos.

  Elreak’s gaze turned toward the embattled city, his jaw tightening. “We need to help Delthien,” he said, his tone carrying both resolve and the weight of grim certainty. “It will not survive this attack otherwise.”

  I turned to Folmon, his expression shadowed with a tension that mirrored my own. “I know you don’t like war,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended, yet firm.

  He met my gaze, his face etched with resolve despite the unease flickering in his eyes. “I don’t,” he admitted, his tone heavy with truth. “But Elreak is right. We must help.” His grip on his staff tightened, the gem at its tip glowing with an intensity that pierced the daylight.

  Folmon glanced toward Halaema, his voice steady as he continued. “Halaema, there will be injuries, casualties. Do whatever you can to tend to them.” His gaze shifted to the students, who huddled nearby, their faces pale and uncertain. “Remember your training,” he said gently but firmly. “Protect yourselves and Halaema. Stay together.”

  With that, Folmon rose to his feet, lifting his staff as though its weight were no burden. “Elreak, Ivolith,” he called over his shoulder, “with me.”

  Folmon darted toward the nearest GOLEM, his movements purposeful yet marked by the reluctance that shadowed his actions in battle. As he approached the machine, a red beam lanced toward him, narrowly missing his arm.

  I bolted after him, instinct taking over as I sought to draw the GOLEM’s attention. Elreak was already ahead of me, his spear striking with a precise ferocity that momentarily confused the machine. Seizing the opening, Folmon reached out, his hands brushing against the GOLEM’s metallic leg. Arcane words spilled from his lips, each syllable charged with power.

  The transformation was swift and absolute. The unyielding metal warped and softened, reshaping itself into a slender blade of grass. The GOLEM toppled, its collapse reverberating through the ground like a thunderclap. For a fleeting moment, the air around it shimmered with a faint purple hue, unnatural and mesmerizing.

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  With the first machine disabled, we moved as one, our efforts seamless despite the chaos. The next GOLEM lashed out with its legs, its movements calculated and violent. Another incantation from Folmon sent one of its limbs plunging into the ground, rendering it immobile. His hand pressed against its surface, and once more, the unrelenting steel turned to grass.

  In quick succession, three more GOLEMs fell, each collapse marked by the lingering violet haze. The strain on Folmon was evident in the tightening of his jaw and the tremor in his hands, but he pressed on without hesitation.

  Above us, smoke rose in twisting plumes as the GOLEMs’ weapons continued to batter the city walls. The archers fought valiantly, their arrows finding purchase in the machines’ outer shells, though the tide of battle remained uncertain.

  “Kill the alchemist first,” Ceolbert’s voice cut through the cacophony, its venom unmistakable. I turned to see him pointing toward Folmon, his expression a mask of calculated malice. His words were deliberate, each one laced with chilling finality. “The rest will crumble.”

  The terie reared up, its powerful frame silhouetted against the chaos of battle, before charging at Folmon with thunderous force. Each strike of its hooves against the ground sent tremors through the earth, dust and debris billowing in its wake. Its movements were relentless, a force of nature honed for destruction.

  “Take cover!” Elreak barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The three of us dove behind one of the disabled GOLEMs, its lifeless frame a temporary shield against the onslaught. The sound of the terie’s hooves grew louder, each impact a harbinger of devastation.

  With a resounding crack and a shudder that rippled through the battlefield, the terie’s hooves struck the disabled GOLEM with terrifying precision. The massive machine, already compromised, was launched into the air like a boulder hurled from a siege engine. It collided with the city’s outer wall, the impact sending a vibration through the ground that I could feel deep in my bones.

  The weakened structure groaned under the strain, cracks spidering out from the point of impact. Moments later, the wall gave way with a deafening roar, the collapse sending a cloud of dust and rubble into the sky. Two of the towering spires crumbled as well, their twisted remains raining down in a cascade of destruction. Archers stationed atop the structures scrambled to escape, but many misjudged the timing, their bodies plummeting alongside the debris in sickening arcs.

  As rubble spilled into the city, several GOLEMs advanced through the breach, their weapons firing indiscriminately. Screams rose above the chaos as the citizens of Delthien scrambled for cover. Amid the carnage, Halaema and the students clung to the shadows, their movements careful and deliberate as they sought to reach the relative safety of the inner walls.

  The terie, unperturbed by the destruction it had wrought, turned its attention to Elreak. It rose onto its hind legs and lashed out with its powerful forehooves. Elreak dodged with practiced agility, striking back with his spear in a series of calculated thrusts designed to keep the beast at bay. The terie snarled, a guttural sound of frustration, before attempting to snatch the spear from him. But Elreak’s movements were too swift, his balance too precise.

  The creature’s gaze shifted, locking onto me. Its speed was startling, its massive legs propelling it forward with an agility that belied its size. I tried to leap aside, but its grip was faster. A hoof-like hand clamped around my ankle, yanking me into the air. The terie’s sharp, predatory eyes met mine, and it let out a feral snarl before hurling me with effortless strength.

  I hit the ground hard, the impact forcing the air from my lungs. My daggers flew from my grasp, clattering across the dirt. Dazed, I struggled to regain my footing, my hands scrambling to retrieve the weapons. As I stood, I saw the terie’s focus return to Folmon, who continued to evade its onslaught with movements more instinctive than calculated.

  The beast’s charge was unwavering, each thunderous stride a challenge to the earth beneath it. The sheer magnitude of its form seemed to dwarf everything around it, its hooves leaving craters in their wake. Folmon darted and dodged, his every movement buying us precious seconds, but it was clear his endurance was nearing its limit.

  “I can’t keep doing this!” he called out, his voice sharp with urgency, laced with exhaustion. His eyes flicked to Elreak, his usually calm demeanor strained under the relentless assault.

  Elreak crouched low, his spear gripped tightly in his hands as the terie pawed at the ground, preparing to charge again. The creature’s muscles rippled under its chestnut-colored hide, each movement a coiled promise of devastating power. Its dark tail lashed furiously, kicking up clouds of dust as it fixed its sharp, intelligent eyes on Elreak.

  I retrieved my daggers, their weight familiar and grounding. The battlefield seemed to narrow in focus, the chaos of the city fading as I locked onto the terie. Without hesitation, I sprinted back toward the fray, my mind churning with a plan.

  The terie surged forward, its forearms swinging like battering rams, each blow carving gouges into the ground. Elreak met the beast head-on, his spear moving with calculated precision. He didn’t simply block; he deflected each strike, using the terie’s immense momentum against it. The creature’s attacks were relentless, but Elreak’s movements were sharper still—a dance of survival where one wrong step would mean certain death.

  As I closed the distance, my grip on the daggers tightened. They seemed to hum with anticipation, their edges glinting in the fractured sunlight. The terie shifted its stance, its massive form pivoting with alarming agility. It lashed out at Elreak with one of its hind legs, the sheer force of the kick sending a shockwave through the ground. Elreak dodged just in time, rolling to the side and thrusting his spear into the beast’s flank.

  The terie roared, a guttural sound that reverberated in my chest, and staggered briefly, its hide too thick for the spear to deal fatal damage. But the momentary distraction was all I needed.

  I shouted as I lunged forward, my daggers carving swift arcs in the air. The blades met resistance, their edges slicing into the terie’s dense hide. Its powerful muscles worked against the wounds, making each cut feel like hacking through braided steel. But as I struck again and again, the flesh began to yield, crimson streaking across its flanks.

  The terie turned toward me, its fury incandescent. It reared back, its forehooves striking downward with the force of an avalanche. I barely rolled out of the way, the ground shattering where I’d stood moments before. Sweat slicked my palms, but I kept my focus sharp, moving to keep the creature from pinning me down.

  Elreak saw his chance and drove his spear into the terie’s side once more, his precision flawless. The beast bellowed in pain, its massive frame convulsing as blood began to flow freely from the wound. The terie’s movements faltered, its strength waning, but it still had enough power to kill us both if we made a single mistake.

  We ducked behind a fallen GOLEM as two of the machines turned their weapons on us. Beams of red energy scorched the ground, sending up plumes of dust and rock. My breath came in ragged gasps as I peeked out, surveying the battlefield.

  The city’s defenses were crumbling. The archers were in full retreat, their arrows no longer enough to stem the tide of advancing GOLEMs. Smoke and ash clouded the air, mingling with the acrid scent of blood. The terie staggered, its massive form weakened but still lethal, while Ceolbert stood at a distance, his gaze fixed on the battle with icy determination.

  A realization struck me like lightning. If we didn’t act decisively, the city would fall—and us with it. I turned to Elreak, my voice low but firm. “Can you keep its attention?”

  Elreak glanced at me, his expression tense but focused. “What are you thinking?”

  “We need to take it down,” I said, the certainty in my words unfamiliar but steady. “I’m going for Ceolbert. Without him, the empire’s grip on this battle will weaken.”

  Elreak hesitated only briefly before nodding, trust passing between us like a spark. “I’ll keep it occupied,” he said, gripping his spear tighter. “Just don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t,” I replied, already moving toward the terie.

  As Elreak launched himself into another attack, the terie reared back, its hooves striking the air before slamming down with bone-shaking force. The ground beneath it splintered like brittle stone, sending cracks rippling outward. Its powerful tail whipped behind it, carving through the air like a blade, its movements an extension of its relentless, destructive will.

  I darted to its blind spot, daggers ready, each blade a promise of precision. The terie’s movements were slower now, its massive frame weighed down by wounds and blood loss. But even injured, it was a force of nature, every step shaking the ground and every roar vibrating in my chest.

  Elreak circled the beast, his spear an extension of his body as he struck with precision, forcing the terie to focus on him. The creature snarled, a guttural sound of fury and pain, and pivoted with surprising speed to face him. Elreak ducked low, avoiding a swipe of its massive forearm, and jabbed his spear upward, the blade biting into its already bloodied flank.

  Seizing the moment, I surged forward, my daggers glinting in the fractured light. My blades struck true, carving into the terie’s exposed side. The thick, corded muscle resisted the initial strikes, but I pressed harder, each cut drawing a spray of blood that spattered across my hands and face. The beast bellowed, a deafening roar that seemed to rend the very air.

  Then, with a final, desperate lunge, Elreak drove his spear deep into the terie’s chest, the weapon sinking past the thick hide and into its heart. The creature let out a haunting death cry, its massive form convulsing before collapsing to the ground with a thunderous crash. Dust and debris rose in a choking cloud, obscuring the battlefield for a moment.

  Ceolbert, who had been watching the fight with a cold detachment, staggered back as the terie fell. His mask of control cracked, and for a fleeting moment, his expression was one of disbelief. The Hovnsgard soldiers flanking him exchanged tense glances, their hands twitching toward their weapons as they watched their noble falter.

  I turned toward Ceolbert, the fury of the battle still surging in my veins. He was vulnerable now, his diminutive frame dwarfed by the chaos around him. My steps were swift and deliberate, my daggers ready as I closed the distance.

  Ceolbert’s eyes widened as I reached him, the realization of his peril dawning too late. My blades found their mark, sinking into his shoulder and side. He screamed, his voice high and piercing, the sound grating against the din of the battlefield.

  Blood poured from his wounds as he stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him. The two Hovnsgard soldiers sprang into action, shoving me back and dragging Ceolbert away. He flailed against their grip, his face a mask of pain and rage. “Get away from me!” he shrieked, the commanding edge of his voice twisted by panic. “You will all pay for this! You will all suffer!”

  One of the soldiers barked an order to a nearby GOLEM, his voice firm and clipped. “By order of the Hovnsgard, retreat.”

  The machine turned mechanically, acknowledging the command with a cold efficiency. One by one, the GOLEMs ceased their assault, their weapons lowering as they began to withdraw. Inside the city, the remaining machines followed suit, their marching a stark contrast to the chaos they had wrought.

  As the dust began to settle, the Hovnsgard soldiers continued to escort Ceolbert from the battlefield, his cries of anger and frustration fading with each step. His threats hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, a reminder that this victory was far from absolute.

  Elreak approached, his steps slow and deliberate, his spear still gripped tightly in his hand. The faint tremor in his shoulders betrayed the exhaustion that even his calm demeanor couldn’t mask. His sharp green eyes scanned the battlefield, lingering briefly on the fallen terie before meeting mine.

  “We did it,” he said, his voice steady but edged with disbelief. “We actually brought it down.”

  Folmon emerged from the shadows, his robes streaked with dirt and blood but his hands steady as he approached. His students followed at a cautious distance, their faces pale but determined. Halaema appeared moments later, leading the remaining students from their hiding place. Her expression was calm but grim, a silent assurance that their survival was her priority.

  “The terie is dead,” Folmon said, his tone quiet, as though he couldn’t fully believe the words. His gaze shifted to the crumbled city walls and the smoldering remains of the battlefield. “But so much has been lost.”

  I nodded slowly, the enormity of what had transpired settling like a weight in my chest. The battlefield had quieted, but the city was far from silent. That night, we saw little of one another, each of us consumed by the aftermath.

  Delthien was a city of fractured voices—cheers of victory echoed in some quarters while cries of anguish pierced the smoke-filled air. Families searched the ruins for their loved ones, their grief a raw, unrelenting force.

  Folmon worked ceaselessly, his staff glowing faintly as he transmuted stone and wood to dust, clearing paths to those who might still be trapped beneath the rubble. His students followed his lead, their hands glowing with the faint purple energy of their craft as they aided in the search. Each spell left a lingering haze in the air, faint at first but gradually thickening.

  The haze caught my attention. Its subtle curls coiled at the edge of my vision, faint tendrils of purple that seemed to move with unnatural intent. At first, I dismissed it as an effect of the transmutations, a harmless byproduct of Folmon’s magic. But as it thickened, settling low to the ground like a creeping fog, unease twisted in my gut.

  I turned my head sharply, scanning the haze. It seemed alive, slithering closer with each passing moment. My breath caught as it deepened, the faint glow casting distorted shadows that flickered and danced as though alive. The hair on my arms rose, and the temperature seemed to plummet.

  Then the voice returned.

  They think this is over, it murmured, soft yet cutting, its tone laced with mockery. But the empire does not yield so easily. They will return, Ivolith. And they will take everything.

  A chill raced down my spine. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I struggled to steady myself.

  They have put their trust in you. Their hope. The voice twisted, sharp and mocking. But they do not see the truth, do they? You will fail them.

  The haze seemed to pulse in response, swirling closer until it felt as though it were wrapping itself around me.

  Free them from their future, the voice hissed, low and venomous. Spare them the pain. You have the power to do it.

  The pressure in my head grew unbearable, the words hammering against my thoughts. My body felt heavy, distant, as though the voice had begun to seep into my very being, stealing control. The intensity of its presence swelled, an oppressive force that threatened to crush me beneath its weight. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my mind teetering on the brink of submission.

  Elreak’s gaze locked onto mine, his green eyes narrowing with concern. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate but cautious, as though afraid to provoke whatever had rooted me in place. “Ivolith,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to wake me from a nightmare. “What’s wrong?”

  My throat tightened as I struggled to answer, the weight of the voice pressing down on me like a vice. Finally, I forced the words out. “It’s trying to take over.”

  Folmon, who had been working nearby, looked up sharply. His brow furrowed, his expression shifting from weariness to sharp concern. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone edged with both urgency and caution.

  The voice surged in response, its laughter curling around my mind like smoke from a fire. It was no longer subtle; it reveled in my helplessness, feeding on my fear.

  They can’t save you, it hissed, its tone dripping with malice. They can’t even save themselves. You belong to me, Ivolith. And there is nothing they can do to stop it.

  My muscles tensed, my body moving without my consent. My hand darted toward my side, fingers curling around the hilt of my dagger. I fought against the motion, but the pressure was relentless, forcing my movements with a precision that wasn’t my own.

  “Ivolith—stop!” Elreak’s voice was sharp now, his spear lowering slightly as he readied himself to intervene. But he was too late.

  The dagger flashed in the dim light, its edge catching the faint purple haze that still lingered in the air. The blade sliced across Elreak’s arm, shallow but deliberate, the wound blossoming red against his pale skin. He hissed in pain but didn’t retreat, his grip on the spear tightening.

  “No,” I gasped, my voice trembling as I tried to regain control. But the voice bore down harder, forcing my hand to raise the dagger again, the blade trembling as it aimed toward Elreak’s chest.

  Elreak’s face twisted in a painful mix of sorrow and resolve. Tears glistened in his eyes, but his grip remained firm. “I’m sorry, Ivolith,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. “I can’t let this happen.”

  Time seemed to stretch as he lunged forward, his spear arcing toward my heart. My body, still under the voice’s thrall, made no move to dodge. The point struck true, pain blooming in my chest like an explosion of fire and ice.

  The agony was fleeting. Almost immediately, the pain dulled, replaced by a strange, numbing calm. My senses began to blur, the edges of the world smearing together into indistinct shapes and colors.

  Everything began to fade away—the sounds, the colors, the world itself—all replaced by a vast expanse of gray.