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His body stretched grotesquely, sinew and bone twisting as he grew. His skin turned the colour of old stone, muscles rippling beneath the surface like worms in earth. His eyes were pits of glistening black. Horns curled back from his head, and his tongue—too long and forked—slithered between pointed teeth.

Seren felt her knees give slightly.

He was a monster carved from nightmares.

Lilja didn't even flinch.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she purred, running an adoring hand down his flank to his groin. "So much better than a mortal. Stronger. Hungrier. Especially in bed."

She turned her gaze back to Seren, lips slick and blood-red. "But enough about pleasure. Time is ticking."

She walked closer, voice low and taunting. "Your friend Lia? My sweet little puppet. Did you know she was marked at two? Poor woebegone creature. Cadomir's ink on her skin. Her own mother bound her wolf. Encouraged that little enchantress inside to bloom."

She licked her lips slowly as if savouring a tasty memory. "I conditioned her well over the years. Watched her struggle. Watched her suffer. And there was nothing she could do. She knew what was at stake for her. What a delight."

Lilja circled Seren like a cat playing with a mouse.

"You know," she said casually, "I spent years grooming your sweet little rival. Praise when she obeyed. Pain when she didn't. She was so pliable. Such a good little puppet. I whispered to her that she needed to seduce Hagan. That she was the only one who could protect him. That she would be safe if she earned her place beside the Highclaw."

She looked back over her shoulder, smirking. "She tried, you know. Wore those clingy dresses. Practised the wide-eyed innocence. Cadomir marked her with his demon ink so she could tell no one."

Then she rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "But your boy is annoyingly stubborn. All that discipline. That loyalty." Her voice turned syrupy. "He never touched her. Just a few half-hearted kisses. Not even a fumble in the dark."

She leaned in again, eyes glinting. "Which means you, Seren, still carry the spark of prophecy. Untouched. Pure."

Lilja clucked her tongue, then let out a mock sigh. "It's such a shame, really. You and Hagan never did the deed, did you? Fulfil your precious little fate, birth your pretty little golden generation. But alas."

Her smile widened into a feral snarl. She turned and ran her fingers along the cold stone wall.

"I do so like the idea of a virgin sacrifice."

"You enjoyed all of this," Seren said, voice shaking.

"Oh, very much." Her smile widened. "Lia was never the main act. Just the hook."

She leaned down, so close Seren could smell the perfume of rot beneath her skin.

"You," she whispered. "You are a power source. A conduit. You will feed me and Cadomir. Slowly. Sweetly. Until there is nothing left. We will open a portal to bring forth our army waiting in the demon realm."

Her hand grazed Seren's cheek like a mockery of tenderness.

"We can already resurrect the dead. But a true demon—I can only bring one through each decade. And that's not enough. Not for what's coming."

She stood again, brushing her tunic smooth.

"I'll see you soon, little witchling. Oh—and I'll be sure to bring you your fated's head as a souvenir."

And then she was gone, Cadomir shrinking and donning the skin of the Highclaw before following her, the door slamming shut behind them. The echo of Lilja's humming echoed like smoke from a fire long since burnt out.

And Seren was left alone in the flickering light of the candles.

Chapter 84

Hagan

The fires burned low in Vargrheim's central hearth as dusk bled into darkness. Healers rushed about, their soft-spoken mutters punctuated by the hiss of steaming bowls and the rasp of bandage cloth. Dáin lay on a table of rough-hewn oak, feverish, his breathing shallow. His neck had been sliced clean to his vertebrae but fortunately, his shifter healing had allowed him to cling to life. A pungent mixture of crushed herbs mingled with the coppery scent of drying blood. No one dared to leave his side for long.

Still no word of Seren.