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ERYX

T he rising sun casts the city of Orthani in a pale, murky glow, and I drift through its shadows with practiced stealth.

My every sense is alive, scanning alleys where the stone glistens with residual damp.

Guards keep watch on the main roads, their boots echoing on the cobblestones, but I slink along rooftops and minor passages, staying out of sight.

All night, I brooded on my conversation with Selene—how she nearly agreed to join my vendetta, how her eyes smoldered with cautious interest. Yet we remain on fragile ground, especially now that rumors swirl of Zareth’s twisted attempts to enslave her.

The city is a tinderbox. I plan to be the spark that ignites it.

My route winds through cramped back streets until I near Vaelith’s estate.

From the vantage of a crumbling watchtower, I see patrolling guards in black-lacquered armor, some brandishing crossbows.

Security has intensified since word got out that Zareth attacked her.

No doubt Vaelith wants to keep her hidden from further psionic threats.

A savage grin lifts the corner of my mouth—this only makes my infiltration more challenging, which is exactly the thrill I crave.

I wait for the right moment: a pair of guards crossing the courtyard, exchanging hushed remarks, then moving on.

Another stands at the rear gate, shoulders slumped from boredom.

Slipping down from the tower, I stick to the perimeter, letting a waft of chaos magic swirl around me, a subtle nudge to encourage him to glance away.

He blinks, momentarily confused, and in that gap, I glide behind a hedge.

My heart thuds, adrenaline mingled with excitement.

I need to see Selene again, to press for a final commitment to our shared scheme.

Easing through the orchard at the back of the estate, I recall our last encounter here: the hush, the rush of tension, the promise that we might reshape Orthani if we combine forces.

She seemed tempted, but cautious. The orchard stands deserted at this early hour, dew clinging to leaves.

I wait under a gnarled fruit tree, scanning for signs of her.

Soon, I hear hushed footsteps. My pulse quickens, but I realize it’s only a pair of house servants carrying crates.

They vanish around a corner, unaware of my presence.

Growing impatient, I inch closer to the estate’s side door leading toward the east wing, rumored to be her new dwelling.

My gloved hand rests on the handle, and I sense wards pressing faintly against my chaos-laced aura.

Subtle, but not impenetrable. I channel a whisper of magic, coaxing the wards to overlook me.

The door’s latch clicks softly, granting me entry.

Inside, the corridor is dimly lit by wall sconces, their glow reflecting off polished stone.

Silence swallows my footsteps as I creep past closed doors.

My memory of the layout helps me guess which wing Vaelith might have granted her.

At the far end, I glimpse a guard standing at attention, arms folded.

If she’s beyond that guard, I need a distraction or a direct approach.

A pang of frustration runs through me—I can’t enthrall him as easily as Zareth might, and my chaos magic is less about subtle illusions than shattering direct defenses.

But a cunning trick might do. I toss a pebble down a side passage.

It clatters, echoing. The guard jerks his head, drawn to the noise.

He hesitates, then moves to investigate, hand on his sword. Perfect.

I slip forward, scanning each door for a clue.

One is slightly ajar, faint lamplight glowing within.

A swirl of arcane wards hums around the frame, but not enough to bar me if I keep my magic low.

I press my ear to the gap—no voices. Possibly she’s inside alone, or asleep.

In that moment of indecision, my hunger to see her drives me. I ease the door open, sliding inside.

The chamber is modest but comfortable—a bed with rumpled sheets, a writing desk, a single brazier for warmth.

My heart lurches when I spot her near the window, gazing out at the orchard.

She stiffens, snapping around, dagger materializing in her hand.

She always did have lightning reflexes. Her eyes flash with alarm, and then recognition.

“Eryx,” she breathes, tension coiling in her posture. She’s clad in a loose tunic and fitted trousers, hair half pinned up, giving her a rumpled, morning-after look that stirs something potent in my gut.

I raise my palms, stepping away from the threshold. “I came quietly,” I say in a low murmur. “Your guard is distracted. We have a moment.”

She doesn’t lower the dagger. “So you keep slipping into Vaelith’s domain. Are you that desperate to get yourself killed?”

A half-smile curves my lips. “Desperate to secure your cooperation, maybe. We’re running short on time, considering Zareth’s latest stunt. Word is he tried to collar your mind.”

She grimaces, eyes burning with memory. “He nearly succeeded. But I turned the tables.” She sighs, letting the dagger tip lower. “I suppose you heard the rumors. He’s recovering from psionic backlash, no thanks to me.”

A surge of satisfaction warms me. “Well done,” I say, stepping closer. “If the entire city saw him cower, it might embolden those who want Orthani shaken up. Another sign you’re more than some pretty captive.”

She snorts softly, though her gaze flickers with reluctant amusement. “I’ve never been a ‘pretty captive.’ Now, why are you here? If Vaelith catches you?—”

I lift a hand, cutting her off. “I know the risk. But we still have unfinished business, you and I.” My voice dips. “We parted on half a deal. I need confirmation: will you stand with me when I strike Orthani’s council? Or do you plan to remain Vaelith’s hidden blade?”

A swirl of emotion crosses her face: anger, longing, suspicion. She sets the dagger on the desk, though within arm’s reach. “Before I commit to anything, I need you to tell me the truth about the Red Purna. Did they set me up? I keep hearing that they sent me into Orthani as bait.”

I grimace, cursing internally. The time has come to lay out a measure of honesty.

“They wanted a spark to ignite tensions with Orthani. You were that spark, yes. They knew if you were caught, the city would overplay its hand, giving the Red Purna justification to launch bigger assaults. Their plan partially hinged on you riling Orthani. They never expected you to survive this long.”

She stiffens, fists clenching. “So they wanted me as a sacrificial pawn?”

My throat tightens at the raw betrayal in her eyes. “Pawn might be harsh. They believed you strong enough to do damage. But yes… they assumed Orthani would either kill you or spark a war they could exploit. For them, any outcome served the cause.”

She turns away, staring at the brazier, breath coming in ragged drags.

The quiet in the room thickens with her mounting anger.

“So they never cared if I escaped or was enslaved,” she whispers, voice trembling with fury.

“I was disposable. All that talk of uniting purna, preserving our legacy—just a ruse.”

I exhale. “They do want purna to thrive, but their methods are ruthless. They see you as a catalyst, no more. Look, I’m not defending them.

My contract with them is purely transactional.

They pay me to sabotage Orthani. But I have my own reasons for bringing the council down—my family’s blood is on Orthani’s hands.

Our goals overlap. But the Red Purna’s betrayal?

I had no part in that. I wasn’t high enough in their ranks to decide your mission. ”

She whirls, eyes blazing with wounded fury. “So you let me walk into that trap anyway. Did you even try to warn me?”

My chest tightens. “By the time I learned the details, you were already in Orthani. I tried to find you, intervene. That’s why I approached you after your capture. I wanted to salvage something from the Red Purna’s twisted plan. Believe me, I never wanted you caged or tortured.”

She glares, lips pressed into a taut line. Her breathing shakes, a swirl of emotion pounding through her. “Damn you,” she hisses, “I can’t decide if you’re less monstrous than them or just more cunning.”

A pang of guilt resonates. But the flicker of desire I feel for her also surges.

I can’t deny how the interplay of her anger and vulnerability stirs something in me.

Shaking off that distraction, I step forward, lowering my voice.

“I won’t deny I’m cunning. But I promise, I didn’t relish your suffering.

Why do you think I keep sneaking in to see you?

I want to help you unravel Orthani from inside. ”

She scoffs, though the heat in her gaze betrays deeper conflict. “Help me, or help yourself? You want the council gone for revenge. Ai’s well-being is just a side note.”

I stiffen at mention of the child. “It’s not a side note. I know you care about her. If saving her helps keep you invested, then yes, I’ll make it a priority. But my vendetta stands either way.”

She narrows her eyes, scanning me as if searching for a lie. “And you think I’ll just sign on, join your rebellion, because we share a mutual enemy?”

I step closer, letting my chaotic energy swirl subtly.

The tension between us crackles, reminiscent of the orchard’s hush.

“Yes,” I say, voice dropping. “Because you despise Orthani more each day. They nearly let Zareth enslave you. They hold Ai as a bargaining chip. Vaelith, for all his seeming mercy, remains their loyal dog. Sooner or later, they’ll turn on you too. ”

Her jaw flexes. She wants to deny it, but we both know Orthani’s cruelty lurks behind every corner. “I won’t jump into bed with you—figuratively or literally—just because you offer an alliance,” she growls.