Page 83

The words came out tight. Small.Terrified.

Lilja's eyes gleamed with malice.

"Oh, darling," she said, crouching just slightly. "That's better. Fear becomes you."

She stood and smoothed her tunic. The pendant on her neck caught the light—twisting, intricate, wrong.

"All will be revealed in time," she said sweetly. "Why don't you sit back and watch the show..."

She tilted her head, all mock affection.

"...for however long you've got left."

Lilja turned to move towards the door, Steine following her.

Seren's desperate voice followed her.

"Why did you kill Highclaw Draken? You loved him."

For a moment, Lilja didn't turn. Then she slowly pivoted on her heel, that gliding, unnatural grace returning as she faced Seren full-on.

"Oh, Seren," she said, voice syrup-thick. "It was never about love."

She took a step closer, the flame from the single lamp casting shadows across her glowing skin and sharp, white smile .

"Draken... was a pawn. A beloved heir. To what was owed to me. Through my father." Her voice lowered, curling around the words like smoke. "But like all pawns, he had an expiry date. I told him, he would rue the day he betrayed me with that Astrid creature."

Seren whispered "You ambushed him. Like a coward."

"Tactics," Lilja corrected, not bothered about being called out. "You can't tip a kingdom with brute force. You tip it by breaking what holds it up. His daughter was very very useful."

She moved closer still until only the low table stood between them.

"I needed him to fall. Brutally. I needed the tribe to reel. To question. To look inward instead of outward. Chaos is fertile soil, witchling. And we're ready to harvest."

Steine's presence loomed behind her, silent and wrong.

Seren stared into the flame-lit face of the breathtaking woman who'd murdered Draken and marked her tribe like livestock.

Whatever Lilja saw in Seren's expression must have pleased her—there was a subtle shift in her posture, a cruel softness in her smile.

"Well," she said lightly, brushing her pale fingers down the edge of the cell door, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to share, now that it's all over."

Seren tried to hold an impassive expression. But her hands were shaking .

Lilja tilted her head. "As we speak, my army marches toward Vargrheim.

Quiet and relentless. The wards don't extend as deep as the caves.

We have had lots of fun going back and forth, watching your tribe feel safe behind the wards.

We just... didn't want to risk you dying before we'd extracted what we need. "

She smiled, but her eyes were endless pools promising unspeakable pain. "Don't worry. You'll still be useful. For a little while longer."

She wandered to the flickering lamp and lit another, her face now clearer in the orange glow.

"Even as a child, I knew," she said, idly inspecting her nails. "I was meant to rule. Draken? He was a soft target. Twelve years old and coming of age. One flash of my lashes, a little tilt of the head, pale skin in the moonlight—and he thought himself in love."

Her eyes glittered with amusement. "My mother dragged me away before I could finish what I started. She thought it was to protect me. How sweet."

She paced slowly, eyes never leaving Seren. "But I had my fun in her tribe. And when I came back? The handfasting was over. Astrid." She spat the name like a poison. "I hate that name."

Lilja's smile thinned into something far more vicious. "So I came here. To Starnheim. The Highclaw fell harder than Draken ever did. Pity he loved his little Lunara so much."

Then her voice dropped, low and dangerous .

"You see, Seren. My mother never knew what I was."

She raised her chin.

"I am a portal—a gateway between realms. And this," she gestured to the man beside her, "is Cadomir. Son of Mammon. A cambion."

Cadomir stepped forward, shadows clinging to him like an old blood stain. He was already tall, but now, with a soft hiss, he began to shift—no, to shed. Like peeling off skin.

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.