Chapter 15 - Bad Faith

  Kain stood in the pressure-heavy silence, senses stretched thin as he ran through outcomes faster than he could commit to any of them.

  To his right, he caught the edge of it—Amon’s grin slowly carving its way across his face. Not wild. Not reckless. Excited in the way only someone who wanted this could be.

  On his left, Talen vibrated in place, weight shifting, breath quick. Every muscle in him looked coiled, like restraint was a physical injury. Kain felt it slipping. If he didn’t ground this now, the room would decide for them.

  Behind him, Dom stepped forward and shrugged the massive pack from his shoulders. It hit the stone floor with a heavy thud that echoed longer than it should have. Practical. Ready.

  Logess hadn’t moved at all—but his expression said everything. Jaw tight. Shoulders rigid. This was exactly the kind of situation he despised: too many variables, too little information

  Kain exhaled slowly.

  Too many sparks. One wrong word. One wrong step. This could collapse into blood in seconds. Kain stepped forward. The movement was small, deliberate—but it drew every eye in the room. He felt it immediately. The shift in weight. The subtle tightening of bodies. If anything, the tension sharpened, like a blade being honed rather than sheathed.

  So much for calming anyone down. He didn’t turn back, but he felt them behind him. Kain exhaled once through his nose. Alright. Control first. Outcomes later. He raised a hand—not threatening, not placating. Just enough to signal that he was speaking now. “Who’s in charge here?”

  The question landed cleanly. For a moment, no one answered. Then the woman at the front stepped forward half a pace. She didn’t summon Veyra. Didn’t posture. She met his gaze evenly, eyes sharp and unblinking. “We all are,” she said. “Every one of us in this room.”

  That got a reaction. Amon shifted beside him, amused. Kain caught the look out of the corner of his eye—Really? That’s your answer?—and ignored it.

  “Fine,” Kain said calmly. “Then I’ll talk to all of you.” He let the silence stretch, just long enough to force attention. “We didn’t come here looking for a fight.”

  Behind him, he felt it immediately. Amon turned his head toward him, disbelief written all over his face. Why would you say that? practically radiated off him. Talen stiffened like someone had yanked his leash. Kain didn’t break stride. “We came to speak,” he continued. “Preferably to whoever leads you.”

  A flicker passed through the group. Not anger. Something closer to calculation. “Our king isn’t here,” the woman replied.

  Kain nodded once, accepting it without challenge. “Then I’d like to negotiate.”

  That word did more than any show of force could have. The room didn’t relax—but it loosened. Just a little. Weapons didn’t lower, but grips shifted. Stances softened from immediate violence to wary assessment. Trade wasn’t weakness here. It was leverage.

  Kain felt Amon’s attention snap back to the room, interest rekindled in a different way this time. Even Logess looked marginally less miserable. Good. This could still go wrong. But for the first time since they’d entered the chamber, it didn’t feel inevitable.

  Kain paused. He let his gaze drift slowly across the room, really looking at the hybrids surrounding them. Not just their Veyra. Their bodies. Their posture. Their eyes. They didn’t look strong. They looked depleted. There was a hollowness to them, like animals conserving what little energy they had left. Shoulders slumped just slightly. Breathing measured. Movements economical in a way that wasn’t discipline—but necessity.

  Hungry? Thirsty? Kain’s eyes flicked back toward the paths they’d taken down into the ravine. The city above had been empty. No civilians. No children. And everyone here—every single one of them—was already far along in their transformation. Hybrids? Where was the rest of their people?

  The answer settled in his chest like a weight. It’s too hot. Not just uncomfortable—unsustainable. The Scarabs would need to stay below ground during the day to conserve energy. And if that was the case… His eyes narrowed. They don’t have water. Or not enough of it.

  Kain took a breath. This was a gamble. If he was wrong, they would be offended. This could turn the room violent instantly. But if he was right— “Would you be interested,” Kain said evenly, “in trading for Brightwater?” The reaction was immediate.

  A few hybrids lost their composure entirely—heads snapping toward the woman at the front, eyes wide, breathing suddenly uneven. One took a half step forward before stopping himself. The woman didn’t move, but her mouth twitched. Just barely. Kain felt it click. So that was it. Koi hadn’t come to the Crater out of ambition. He’d come out of desperation.

  To scout the well. To measure strength. To decide whether they could take it by force before they ran dry. This wasn’t malice. It was survival. Kain continued, his voice calm, deliberate. “I assume that wouldn’t be your decision to make,” he said, glancing around the room. “Which is why I didn’t come here to fight you.” He looked back to the woman. “I came to speak with your king.”

  The woman hesitated. For a heartbeat, Kain thought she might refuse outright. For another, that she might attack. Then seconds stretched—long, unbearable seconds where the room seemed to hold its breath. Finally, her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not a snarl. A decision. She lifted one hand and made a sharp, downward motion. “Clear the chamber,” she said.

  The response was immediate. Hybrids turned and moved in perfect silence, dispersing through the doors they’d emerged from only moments earlier. No arguing. No hesitation. Footsteps faded into stone until the massive room felt suddenly, unnervingly empty. Only the projectors remained—stationed behind her, alert but still. Kain’s muscles tightened. This was the point where things usually went wrong. He shifted his stance subtly, ready for the rush that never came.

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  The woman turned and looked directly at him. “Follow me,” she said. “I’ll take you to our king.” Kain held her gaze, searching for any sign of deception. He found none. Just resolve. His group started forward instinctively. She turned back sharply. “Only one.” The words landed like a blade “The rest will wait here.”

  Tension spiked immediately. Amon’s grin widened by a fraction. Talen rolled his shoulders like he’d been waiting for an excuse. Dom remained still, unreadable. Bale’s Veyra knuckles flared faintly. Kain raised a hand. “Hold.” He exhaled slowly. This wasn’t a moment to posture.

  “I’ll bring one,” he said. “The rest stay.” Logess stiffened as Kain turned toward him. “You,” Kain said.

  Logess’s jaw tightened. “Of course,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t want you choosing someone enjoying this.”

  Kain ignored the comment. He leaned in toward Amon briefly and lowered his voice. “If this goes bad,” he said quietly, “don’t wait for us.”

  Amon’s eyes gleamed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Kain straightened and gave the rest of the group a final look. “Stay sharp.” Then, without another word, he stepped forward. Logess followed, clearly irritated, clearly alert. It wasn’t a hard choice. Amon and Talen wanted a fight. Logess wanted to survive. Right now, Kain needed someone who thought like that.

  The woman turned and began walking, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone. Kain and Logess followed. And as the distance grew between them and the rest of their group, Kain couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever waited ahead was already watching.

  They walked down a stone hallway carved so precisely it felt intentional rather than decorative, the walls close enough to funnel their attention forward. The air was cool and dry, carrying a faint mineral scent that reminded Kain of the cavern beneath the crater. Each step echoed softly, stretching the silence until time itself felt distorted, as if the passage were testing their patience rather than their distance.

  Kain finally broke the quiet and asked the woman her name, his voice low and measured. “My name isn’t important.” She didn’t look back when she answered, her pace unchanged. “No one’s name matters here except the king’s.”

  The words settled uncomfortably. Not arrogant, not defensive. Just fact. She followed it by stating she was the captain of The Cut’s guard, as if rank alone was sufficient identity. Kain took that as confirmation that The Cut wasn’t just a description of the ravine, it was a belief system. A place where individuality had been sanded down into function.

  By the time they reached the doors, Kain’s curiosity had sharpened into caution. Two massive stone slabs stood before them, taller than anything he’d seen in the crater, their surfaces scarred with old impact marks that hadn’t been repaired. Guarding them were two figures nearly Dom’s size, broad and immovable. Veyra coated their chests and shoulders in thick layers, shaped like armor but fused to their bodies, dull light pulsing slowly beneath the surface as if it were breathing.

  The captain stopped and gave a brief command. “Notify the king.”

  One guard turned and slipped through a narrow opening between the doors, which closed behind him with a muted grind. The wait was short but heavy, the kind that made Kain acutely aware of his breathing and the weight of Logess standing beside him.

  The guard returned and spoke without ceremony. “The king will see them now.”

  As they entered the chamber, the woman immediately stepped aside and knelt, her movement sharp and practiced.

  The room was enormous and bare, carved cleanly from stone, its scale swallowing sound until even breathing felt intrusive.

  Kain registered the echo of his own footsteps and then realized something was wrong.

  The man at the far end was already moving. No footfall. No scrape of stone. He advanced a few steps in complete silence, presence filling the space without effort.

  For a fleeting second, Kain wondered if he had walked into a kingdom of assassins.

  He pushed the thought aside and focused. He had to lock in. The man stopped and spoke, voice calm and level. “I am King Grishet the Twelfth.”

  The title alone carried weight. Kain’s mind flickered to lineage, to how long a kingdom like this must have endured, and then he shut that line of thought down before it distracted him. “It’s good to meet you,” Kain said. “I’m the current leader of the Crater.”

  Grishet studied him without expression. “What brings you here?”

  Kain didn’t hesitate.

  “I’m here to open friendly trade, in good faith.”

  The king’s gaze sharpened. “And what makes you think you possess anything we would want?”

  Kain felt the room tighten. “We have a surplus of brightwater,” he said. “We’re willing to trade it for pulsebark fruit, and to discuss a future military alliance.”

  As he spoke, Kain remembered what he’d heard from Sonen of the mountain kingdom. The strongest force in the region, and closest settlement to the Crater. If conflict came, The Cut would be the first shield. Or the first blade.

  The king’s composure cracked. The shift was subtle at first, a tightening around the eyes, a stiffness in his posture, but the anger behind it was unmistakable. “You think we need your help?” His voice rose as he stepped forward, the calm from moments ago evaporating. “It sounds more like you need us, and you’re trying to dress desperation up as generosity.” Kain opened his mouth to respond. The king cut him off with a sharp gesture. “The nerve of you,” he continued, voice echoing through the chamber, “to walk into our kingdom and pretend we’re some charity case, as if you’re doing us a favor.”

  He sneered. “No one in this world acts without ulterior motive.” The air felt heavier with every word. “You’re fortunate I don’t strike you down where you stand.”

  Kain frowned. Something didn’t add up. If the Cut wasn’t desperate, then the reactions earlier made no sense. The tension in the hybrids. The way their composure had slipped at the mention of brightwater.

  Kain’s eyes flicked to the captain. Her face had gone pale. Horror, unmistakable, flickered across her expression as she stared at her king. What are you doing? Kain wondered.

  Grishet’s voice boomed again. “Get them out of my sight before I lose my temper.”

  Before?

  The captain moved instantly, crossing the room and motioning for Kain and Logess to follow without meeting his eyes.

  They were ushered back the way they came, footsteps hurried, silence stretched tight between them.

  As they walked, Kain caught one last glimpse of the captain’s face. Concern. Confusion. Logess broke the silence under his breath. “That could’ve gone worse.”

  Kain exhaled slowly. “It also could’ve gone a lot better.” When they re-entered the previous chamber, the projectors stationed there snapped to attention immediately.

  The shift was sharp enough to be audible, boots scraping stone as posture replaced stillness.

  Kain’s group, by contrast, looked like they had been chilling, almost relaxed. Amon straightened with a lazy stretch, Talen bounced once on his heels, Bale rose without expression, and Dom simply adjusted the straps of his pack like nothing had happened. Amon tilted his head. “So?”

  Kain didn’t hesitate. “Horrible.”

  Logess exhaled through his nose and turned toward the stairs. “We should leave before that man decides to prove a point.” No one argued.

  They moved quickly, but not openly fleeing, climbing the stone steps the way they had come. The silence followed them, heavy and watchful. Just before they reached the bend in the passage, the captain stepped close to Kain’s side.

  Her voice dropped low, barely more than breath. “We will be in touch.”

  Kain slowed a fraction. When he looked at her, the concern was still there, etched plainly across her face. Not anger. Not hostility. Worry. Before he could ask what she meant, she had already stepped back, posture resetting, mask firmly in place.

  They continued upward. Light gradually returned as they emerged from the ravine, the oppressive stone giving way to open air. The path leveled out, and without a word, the group resumed their march away from The Cut. Kain walked at the front, eyes forward, thoughts anything but settled. Whatever had just happened beneath the ravine wasn’t finished.

  It had only been postponed.