Thaldruna’s laughter rolled through the chamber, a deep, guttural sound that rattled in Elysian’s chest like stones tumbling in a well. She was enjoying herself—too much. The air in the room shifted, dense and stifling, as if Elysian were no longer among trolls but instead upon a stage built for her amusement.

  “Sharp as ever,” the Matriarch said, her voice both praise and mockery wrapped in velvet. “Still so young, yet already so clever.” She turned, slow and deliberate, her gaze sweeping across the room like a blade. Vrakdur stiffened. The others paled and looked down as if their feet held answers. Thaldruna clicked her tongue, the sound cutting like a reprimand. “Look at you all,” she drawled, her words heavy with disappointment. “Ancient as trees, yet as foolish as children. Learn from this boy.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Trolls who could crush boulders looked suddenly small, like children caught misbehaving. Then, Thaldruna’s gaze swung back to Elysian. Her grin spread wider, like savoring a cornered rabbit.

  Elysian’s pulse jumped. The hair on his arms prickled like needles.

  “You’re right, boy,” she purred, each word coiling in the air. “I want something from you.” Her eyes glittered, dark and bottomless. “Do you want to guess what it is?” She paused. Her grin widened, revealing teeth far sharper than any smile should hold. She was now totally different from the kind grandmotherly mask she showed before. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? I think you already know.”

  Elysian’s heart stumbled, but he forced his face into stillness. For half a breath, his eyes widened—then narrowed, sharp as glass.

  ‘BloodShade? Or is it the Eye of Sacraeon?’

  The questions hit like a blade. He swallowed it down, masking his fear with a furrowed brow, pretending to ponder.

  ‘Play the fool and buy some time.

  Hey… Eye. Are you there?’

  Elysian reached inside him, toward the quiet presence of the soulforged artifact. Nothing—there was no response.The pit in his stomach yawned wide.

  ‘Why are you silent now, of all times? Damn it, say something!’

  The silence stretched, cold and hollow, and Elysian’s stomach knotted tighter. His face must have betrayed something, because Thaldruna’s grin deepened, spreading across her face like a crack in stone.

  ‘Has she gotten her hands on Eye?

  No…that’s absurd. The b*stard’s probably ignoring me. Like always.

  Then, if it’s not the Eye… then it’s BloodShade.’

  Elysian’s mind raced, threads of panic unraveling into something sharper, colder. His teeth clenched.

  ‘Kaerthlyn and Brodhar had been there when I killed the Night Howler. BloodShade’s power hadn’t gone unnoticed. Of course, it didn’t! Someone like her who lives this long wouldn’t miss something this important.

  Damn it! I should have known.’

  Elysian met Thaldruna’s gaze again, and he could see there was recognition and amusement there. His gut twisted like a knife.

  ‘This is why I hate using BloodShade. Powerful beings like this might get interested in it. And my fear was proven right.’

  “From your expression, it seems you’ve already guessed what I want,” Thaldruna said, her voice carrying a weight that made Elysian’s chest tighten. She nodded knowingly, her gaze sharp. “If you give me that knife—”

  The Matriarch’s words splintered in the air as sudden loud footsteps echoed from the corridor. A half-troll burst into the chamber, his sandals scuffing across the ancient wood.

  “What are you doing, Tavrok?” Vrakdur barked, irritation showing in his voice. The clan leader’s lip curled in a snarl, though his gaze flickered warily to Thaldruna—as if waiting for her reaction.

  The Matriarch’s expression had already shifted, slipping back into its impenetrable calm. A mask of patience that, Elysian realized, was far more unnerving than he previously realized.

  “We’re holding an important council meeting here,” Vrakdur growled, his voice like grinding stone. “You can’t just enter as if this is your house.”

  Tavrok skidded to a halt before them, pale and wide-eyed as he stood under the weight of Vrakdur’s fury. Sweat traced lines down his temple, but his jaw stayed firm.

  “Stop lashing out, Vrakdur,” Thaldruna chided, her words full of disapproval. The room hushed as the rebuke landed, leaving Vrakdur to bow his head like a chastened wolf. “Think for once.” She sighed, an exaggerated gesture, before fixing her unrelenting stare on Tavrok. “Why would he dare interrupt—me, here of all places? Hmm? Well, child?” Her tone sharpened at the edges, turning the question into a warning. “You—do—have something important to say, don’t you?”

  Tavrok swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but his feet stayed planted, his eyes resolute. Whatever had brought him here, it gnawed at his insides like a sickness.

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  “Yes, Matriarch,” he managed, dipping his head in respect before the words rushed out. “It’s the people we sent to Draen’Volruk…” He stopped abruptly, as though choking on the weight of his own news. He took a slow breath and forced himself forward. “They failed. None survived.”

  Elysian’s pulse quickened, but he remained silent, locking himself behind a mask of indifference. He could feel his heartbeat pounding behind his ribs, but years of experience had taught him restraint—how to be invisible when needed. Still, he listened with the sharpness of a hawk.

  Their words, fortunately, remained in human language. A slip born of urgency, no doubt. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed the oversight, or perhaps it was the kind of chaos that eclipsed caution. Elysian didn’t care. He seized the opportunity, letting every word—every tone—etch itself into his mind.

  ‘Draen’Volruk… What happened there? What kind of danger sent them to their deaths?’

  Tavrok tried his best to stop his emotions from spilling over, but his voice betrayed him—strained and ragged, every syllable trembling with the weight of the catastrophe they faced. The council chamber, once steeped in tension, now sat with unnerving stillness. Even the most powerful trolls in the room—Vrakdur included—seemed to blanch at the half-troll’s revelation, their confidence buckling under the blow.

  ‘Whatever they’re talking about, it’s not just failure. It's a disaster.’

  Elysian watched. He waited. Each second stretched long and thin as he gathered whatever information he could. Carefully, his gaze drifted to Thaldruna. For just a fleeting moment, he caught it—something raw and fragile flickering behind her eyes—pain, maybe even grief. It passed as quickly as it came, smothered beneath her ageless composure, as unyielding as ancient stone.

  Elysian flinched when her gaze snapped toward him, sharp and knowing. He quickly looked away, fixing his attention on the floor.

  The Matriarch sighed, slow and measured, then glanced at Kaerthlyn. “Kae, take our young friend outside,” she said gently, her tone softening.

  Elysian stole a glance at the half-troll girl. Kaerthlyn’s head hung low, her face streaked with grief she barely managed to suppress. Her knuckles brushed her eyes, wiping away her tears. Still, she nodded, her voice small but steady. “Okay.”

  Thaldruna’s attention swung back to Elysian. This time, her smile was gone. Her voice, too, had lost its usual teasing hum. “Child, we’ll finish our discussion later. Don’t do anything foolish.” Her gaze held him, pinning him where he stood. “Remember—we still hold your people in our hands.”

  The weight of her warning struck like a blow to Elysian. His face paled despite himself, but he gritted his teeth and forced his voice steady. “Understood.”

  Kaerthlyn gestured toward the exit. “Come on,” she said softly.

  Elysian fell in step behind her, his boots dragging against the polished wood as the council resumed their meeting. This time, their voices dropped into the guttural, rolling cadence of their native tongue.

  ‘So much for listening.’

  As they walked deeper into the shadowed halls of the colossal tree, Elysian’s mind churned, thoughts twisting like storm winds. His gaze wandered to Kaerthlyn, his eyes narrowing as they traced the curve of her neck. An idea flared like a struck match, slithering through him, dark and dangerous.

  ‘She’s important to Thaldruna. If I take her hostage…

  I could use her. Bargain for my life. For Grimwatch. For Ironspire. Maybe even more.’

  Kaerthlyn walked ahead, oblivious to his scrutiny. Her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her own grief, each step echoing softly in the silence.

  Elysian’s jaw tightened as his thoughts spiraled deeper. His gaze burned into the back of her neck, his hand twitching at his side. The option was there—within reach. All he had to do was act. But the longer he stared, the clearer the image became—the Matriarch’s fury, swift and unrelenting. The soldiers at Grimwatch, cut down without mercy. The people of Ironspire, helpless against the tide of trolls. The blood. The screams.

  ‘And even if I succeeded, what then?’

  Thaldruna wasn’t some petty warlord. She was ancient, a force that had watched empires rise and crumble. If she agreed to his terms, it would mean nothing. Promises could be broken. Contracts—even soulbound ones—could be outmaneuvered by a mind as old and cunning as hers. The conclusion hit him like a stone wall.

  ‘No. It’s a stupid move. A fool’s gambit.’

  Elysian exhaled heavily, the fire in his chest flickering into ashes. He rubbed a hand over his face, disgusted at himself for even thinking about it.

  ‘All I’d accomplish is killing everyone I swore to protect.’

  Elysian followed Kaerthlyn in silence, his boots scuffing against the earth as his mind spun, thoughts and half-formed ideas colliding in a frantic search for a solution.

  ‘There has to be another way. Another way out of this mess. I just need to find it—before it’s too late.’

  “Everything alright?” Kaerthlyn’s voice cut through the storm in his head, light but frayed with exhaustion. She glanced back at him, her eyes softer than he’d ever seen them, quietly searching his face.

  ‘Isn’t it ironic? She’s worried about me, while I was just considering taking her hostage. And shouldn’t I be the one concerned for her? She’s the one who just lost her tribe members—probably people she cared about.’

  Elysian thought bitterly. Guilt slithered through him, a cold knot in his gut. He suddenly walked beside her, mustering a smile. It felt thin and brittle, barely clinging to his face. “Yeah. Just… tired.” Then, the words just clung to his throat before he finally pushed them out. “You… Are you okay?”

  Kaerthlyn’s steps faltered, the question clearly catching her off guard. She looked away, her shoulders stiff as silence stretched. Then, after a beat, she spoke—quiet and hollow. “No. I’m not fine.” Her voice trembled, and when she glanced back at him, her eyes glistened. “I knew some of the thralgar who died in Draen’Volruk.”

  Elysian frowned. “Thralgar?”

  “Half-trolls like me,” Kaerthlyn explained quickly, her tone flat, distant. “And Draen’Volruk—it’s a coming-of-age trial for our clan.”

  “Ah.” Elysian nodded, processing the information. “Is it dangerous? This… Draen’Volruk?” He stumbled a bit over the word, his tongue tripping on the foreign syllables.

  Kaerthlyn’s lips twitched faintly, as if amused despite herself. “You said it right. Draen’Volruk.” Her voice softened as she repeated it. “It means the Depths of Becoming—of Transformation.”

  She sighed, long and heavy, as if the weight of the words themselves threatened to pull her down. “It’s not supposed to be dangerous. Sure, accidents happen. Sometimes someone dies. But…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “I’ve never heard of an entire group failing to return. Ever.”

  Kaerthlyn’s steps slowed to a halt, and when she turned to him fully, her face broke—tears pooling, spilling down her cheeks like silent rivers.

  Elysian’s throat tightened. He wasn’t good at this. Comforting people wasn’t something he did. Usually, he was the one others pitied. The one they offered empty condolences to. He hesitated, then awkwardly reached out, his hand settling on her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. The height difference between them made the effort almost comical—his hand barely reached where her elbow bent.

  Kaerthlyn didn’t seem to care. “I should’ve been with them,” she whispered. “It was my year. I was supposed to participate in the trial.”

  Elysian blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “What happened?”

  “Grandmother happened,” Kaerthlyn spat bitterly. Her hands curled into fists, trembling as her voice wavered. “She said I should wait. Told me I could go next year.” She choked on the words, tears falling faster now, unchecked and heavy. “I hated her for it. I was so angry. And then…” Her voice broke into a ragged sob. “Then they didn’t come back. I—I had this horrible feeling. I just knew.”

  Kaerthlyn dropped her face into her hands, shoulders trembling. “Now they’re dead. All of them. And I don’t know if I should thank her for saving my life… or hate her for letting them die.”

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