The thing’s jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, moving up and down in hollow imitation of life, no answer spilling forth. When words finally came, they crawled out in a broken croak.
“W—Why… should I answer? You’ll kill me anyway.”
I didn’t move. The floor beneath us gleamed where his companion had ruptured in slick, red-black, and reeking of iron. Bristle’s coarse hair brushed against my knee, grounding me in the present before I lifted my gaze once more.
“You will answer,” I said, my voice flattening the air, sharp enough to cut it. “Or I’ll start tearing you apart and learn what I need myself.”
He twitched, bones clicking like brittle glass as both hands rose in a trembling surrender.
“W–we didn’t mean—” he stammered, the words dying when my eyes narrowed.
The blue fire behind his hood faltered, quivering like a candle in a draft. “It was a spell,” he blurted at last, “requiring all of us. That’s how we brought you here.”
His voice came thin, stretched over the shape of humanity it no longer possessed.
He trembled, a wet rasp leaking from the hollow of his throat. “Without all of us—I can’t return you.”
The words struck heavy. All of them? The corpses scattered across the chamber were my only path home. My stomach tightened, the thought clawing through my chest.
“But I can gather my people! We can—”
“BE QUIET!” I roared, the shout cracking through the silence. “You dragged me here for nothing!” My fist coiled, rage rising past restraint. “I’m sick of people like you… all of you are so—”
Peter! Wyrem’s voice snapped inside my mind, sharp and commanding. Calm yourself. We know too little about this place. Let him think you agree and draw out more information.
Luna’s softer tone followed, worry and gentleness woven through her words. He may not lie about where we are if he believes you’ll spare him. And… it’ll be okay. We’ll get home.
Their voices steadied me. My clenched hands slowly loosened. I drew a deep breath, clearing the fog in my head. The filtered air filled my lungs.
Bristle brushed against my leg again, his coarse fur offering a second comfort.
“It wasn’t my idea!” the creature pleaded, desperation rasping in his hollow throat as he tried to redirect my fury. “I—”
I exhaled slowly, lifting a hand to silence him. “Your name,” I whispered.
“Wh—what?” His voice fractured between fear and confusion.
“Tell me your name,” I repeated, forcing the edge from my tone, though anger still burned beneath it.
He swallowed—or tried to—the sound wet and guttural, echoing through the chamber. “Rogal,” he said at last. “My name is Rogal.”
“Right, Rogal.” I nodded slightly. “Can you really send me back?” I let a hint of hope touch the words, baiting him.
He didn’t hesitate. His head jerked in a frantic nod so violent the hood slipped free, revealing a skull scoured clean of flesh. “Yes! We only need to meet my clan! They reside here, on this world.”
I let the words linger in the still air. I’d never heard of anything like him before. Either this place was impossibly isolated, or it wasn’t my world at all.
“Before, what did you do to me? That pressure I felt. My power stilled.”
The blue glow within his sockets brightened, eager now that he sensed an opening. “Our presence,” he rasped, pointing toward the less mangled corpses nearby. “When we gather, the living cannot move energy.”
My eyes narrowed. I stepped closer, pressing him toward the wall. “A technique?”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
He shook his head. “Our Bloodline. The Domain of Death.”
I could still feel its residue pressing faintly on my shoulders—diminished, but there. My Internal Force moved again, sluggish yet recovering.
Even so… these creatures were terrifying.
“You have a group here?” I pressed.
He nodded, a brittle motion. “My clan,” he offered.
“Where is this place? This world?” I interrogated, letting the questions flow smoothly.
He straightened a fraction, bony shoulders pulling into a mock pride. “This is an old jail,” he said, then lowered his voice as if the name itself needed reverence. “This world is called Abandon.”
The blue flame shifted in vibrancy, a flicker that suggested meaning I did not possess. I assumed it was supposed to signal recognition, but of course, it meant nothing to me beyond the obvious. At least the name was bluntly descriptive.
“By what?” I asked.
He cocked his head and began dusting off his tatters, a little ritual that made me notice I was not clothed as I had been before. I was in my birthday outfit, stripped of my usual gear.
“What do you mean?” Rogal asked, bewilderment plain in his voice.
I rolled my eyes, a small, contemptuous motion I briefly wondered whether he would grasp. “The name of this place. Who—or—what abandoned you?”
“Oh!” A bony finger rose and scratched the rim of a socket, a dry, twitching motion that looked ridiculous and uncanny at once. Guess they get itchy.
“Aren’t you a champion?” he asked, still clearly confused.
“Answer my questions,” I countered, letting my irritation creep back into my voice. The change brought a visible flinch of renewed fear from Rogal.
He shrank further, voice falling to a whisper. “We can’t carry the Blessing you all do.”
My breath snagged with realization crawling cold through me. “You don’t have a Blessing?” I repeated, the words tasting like glass.
“No clan here does,” he admitted.
Ask him who’s responsible, Wyrem pressed in my mind. It might tie to the powerful woman linked to you.
“The elf, Drema—he told you about me?” I asked, taking Wyrem’s cue.
Rogal pointed behind me toward the one I had killed first, the interrogator whose life had been ended in this chamber. “Only he met with him. He shared a strand of your energy. I was only doing a job,” Rogal explained, shifting blame.
I didn’t fully trust him, but if that was the only thread I could pull, it was the one I’d take.
Perhaps this explained why they could act at all. Why Drema might have used them. Would Drema be culpable for the actions of creatures I could only assume had no formal connection to the Stewards of worlds? There were clearly multiple ostracized groups here, shunned by the Guardians.
Then there was the energy signature: an imprint that eased a tightness I carried. If a near-stranger possessed even a strand of my energy, there was no way someone like Seirth wouldn’t be able to track me. Especially if these comparatively weak things could sense it.
What do you think? I asked internally. Should I stay here? Or leave?
There was a pause, then Luna answered first. It might be safer to stay, but we won’t learn much if we don’t. Every exploration has taught us something new—useful or not. Also, there’s something different in my body. Before you used your technique, my body filtered a new compound. Maybe I can synthesize a new toxin?
I didn’t argue with that.
I agree with my student. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Wyrem commented dryly.
“Sir?” Rogal called again, the sound slicing through my thoughts and snapping me back to the present.
I had no intention of following his guidance anywhere. The mere presence of four of his kind, physically frail though they appeared, had been sufficient to freeze my energy—to press a tangible pressure against my body. How oppressive would a full clan be?
I mean… my own Kingdom numbered around ten, so maybe ‘clan’ wasn’t right, but even if that was the case, ten would be enough.
I shoved him aside and grabbed the door handle, my earlier rage mostly spent, vented away am. I moved to pass into the hall, eyes already tracking the dim corridor and the faint light beyond. A table lay just outside, carrying a neatly folded robe and boots, then took a single step.
But then Wyrem’s voice snapped out, urgent and sharp. Do not leave him behind! They took you. They would rob you, and certainly would have killed you. Leaving a threat like this is the height of foolishness!
A deep breath.
No anger.
No fear.
No regret.
My left hand shot out, precise and cold, and I slammed Rogal’s skull into the wall. It shattered with a dry, satisfying crack before he could even parse what had happened. If he registered it at all, the moment of comprehension died fast.
Maybe before, I would’ve hesitated, argued even for the life of this creature. And maybe it was easier since he wasn’t human, but a monster—at least in my eyes. Still… I was simply done. There were too many problems, too many incidents occurring outside my control.
If the world demanded mercilessness at times, then I would comply.
I snatched up the robes and pulled them on, feeling the fabric settle against skin—noticing my wounds already near fully closed. Bristle trailed close behind as I moved down the dungeon hall toward a grated door that shone with a pale light.