Dot knelt close to a pillar , iron chains biting into his wrists as he stared at Ysmay's severed head. It rested on a bloodstained wooden block, her eyes still wide in frozen surprise, dark hair matted with drying crimson.
The sight pulled him under.
Flashback
"You're no fun, Dren-kid," Ysmay teased, perched on the gnarled edge of an ancient oak, legs swinging lazily. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling her mischievous grin.
"We're not related," Dot snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Ysmay tapped her temple with one finger, eyes sparkling. "Surprisingly, he talks."
Hooves thudded softly on the forest path. Dren appeared, swinging down from his horse with practiced ease. A woven basket of fresh-caught fish and wild herbs dangled from his saddle.
"Dren!" Ysmay cried, leaping from the branch and launching herself at him. "I missed you! He's no fun at all—why do I have to babysit him?"
"Wait—wait—" Dren stammered, but she collided with him anyway. The basket tipped, and fish, onions, and bundles of thyme rained down over both of them.
Dren gently pushed her back, shaking his head. Dot watched, eyes widening in surprise at the easy affection.
Then Dren froze. Something slick and writhing slithered across his scalp—a small octopus, tentacles tangling in his hair and brushing his cheeks.
Ysmay burst into laughter, clutching her sides.
Dren glared at her, then glanced down. Tiny crabs scuttled across the front of her tunic, pinching at the fabric.
Ysmay followed his gaze. Her scream pierced the forest.
For the first time, Dot laughed—deep, genuine, heartfelt.
Dren and Ysmay stared, stunned. They had never heard that sound from him. Then their own laughter joined his, echoing through the trees like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Cut to the present
No. It isn't true.
Dot's thoughts raced, frantic and denying. His chest heaved. Rage boiled up, hot and unstoppable.
Dot's fingers trembled against the chains.
He lifted his head, chains rattling, and locked eyes with Boldr.
"I'm going to kill you," he growled, voice low and venomous.
Boldr's lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile.
The Allthing council
"The prisoner has confirmed the boys death, We haven't heard a word from vespers —The demon spawn has been long dead," one lord reported, voice clipped.
"Im not asking about him, is there any information on Valthor." one asked
The heavy doors swung open. Everyone rose as the Grand Regent entered and took the central seat. His robes were deep crimson, edged in gold; his face lined with years of command.
"I heard the report from Quitfrot," he said, settling heavily. "Have the Knights of Valor been dispatched to aid in driving back the demons?"
A hesitant voice answered. "No, Grand Regent. It seems the four we sent handled the attack themselves."
The Grand Regent coughed, a dry, weary sound. "Ever since the mages' realm fell, demon incursions have multiplied. No one remains to suppress them at the source."
"True, Grand Regent," a man in a red cloak interjected, "but we must focus on the greater threat. We suspect someone is orchestrating these attacks."
"Who?" the Grand Regent demanded.
Every head at the long table—twelve in total—turned toward the man in red.
"We aren't certain yet," he replied carefully. "Not until we have answers."
"Nonsense," another lord muttered.
"Grand Regent, sir," a third spoke up, "we've received a recent rumor of raids at East Bay. Someone calling himself a Monarch. His army is massive—full of Spartans, they say."
"Is this confirmed?"
"Not yet."
"Send scouts to verify it. And any information about Valthor and the false knight with him?
Someone answers no.
"Find him. Before he fully understand what he's capable of." The Grand Regent rose and strode out. The council stood in silence until the doors closed behind him.
**Somewhere in Yutor**
Blood pooled thick and black across the cobblestones. Bodies lay crumpled, soldiers in red tabards stepping over them without pause. A man crawled forward, gasping, only for a spear to drive through his back with wet finality.
The scene shifted to a shadowed tent. A chained prisoner slumped against the post, bruises blooming across his face.
"What happened to the pirates here?" the interrogator asked, voice calm.
"I have no answer to that," the prisoner said.
The man's expression tightened. "Bring them in."
The tent flap opened. The prisoner's wife and young daughter were dragged inside, wrists bound.
"Stop! Stop—I'll give you anything! Don't hurt them!"
"Answer. What happened to the pirates?"
"They were killed by mercenaries," the man sobbed.
"Their names?"
"I don't know!"
"Kill them."
"Wait—please! All I know is they traveled with a royal. Also One of them… one can't die."
The interrogator smiled thinly. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Thank you. Please—leave my wife and daughter. Kill me instead."
The man stepped outside as screams rose behind him.
"What were you doing?" a woman snapped. "The Lord Commander is waiting."
"Shut up. I'm coming."
He lit a cigar, the flame briefly illuminating the sigil on the tent ahead: a dragon with the head of a tree, scales twisting into bark.
Back to Dot
"You stand accused of the mass massacre of innocents," the cloaked judge intoned.
"How do you plead?"
Dot met his gaze with cold steel. "Go to hell." He spat.
Boldr stepped forward. "He pleads trial by combat to the death."
Vespers, standing close to Boldr, hissed, "That wasn't the deal. You said you'd give me the boy. Let me take him to the Council, Arthur."
"Seize her," Boldr ordered.
Guards clamped irons around Vespers' wrists.
"This wasn't the plan, Arthur! I decide what happens to him. I deserve justice!"
"Take the hag to her cell," Samson said. He turned to Dren, whose face was ashen, eyes hollow. "And the mercenary, too."
*Flashback*
"We have the boy you've been traveling with," Boldr said. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
"Take the deal, Arthur," Dren replied quietly. "The Greenhood's daughter, and I'll fight with you in your war."
"No."
"ill just take the boy's head instead, for his crimes".
"Then take my head."
"No, Dren!" Ysmay cried, pressing a knife to Boldr's throat.
Boldr's eyes gleamed. "No, friend. I want you to suffer—for what you did years ago. You think I'd forget?"
Ysmay turned—and froze. Elizabeth stood behind her.
A blade flashed. Ysmay's head fell.
Dren shattered.
Elizabeth smiled that same strange, cruel smile.
Present
Dren was dragged away, chains clanking. A guard leaned close to Boldr and whispered, "Your brother the king wishes to see you."
Outside the city walls, Yiva and Sylric crested the final ridge. The capital sprawled before them—towers piercing the twilight sky, banners snapping in the wind.
To be continued…