59.- Threads of ice

The metallic stench of Alatar's blood still saturated the chamber, a nauseating echo that mingled with the dungeon's thick, oppressive air, forming an atmosphere that gripped Lyra's throat like an invisible claw. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the scene unfolding before her, horror clawing at her insides with icy talons. The mage's lifeless body lay just steps away, a crimson pool spreading across the moss, while the creature that had once been Kaelan growled in the shadows, its jaws snapping as it gnawed on the torn-out heart. Faelan, beside her, sobbed silently, his body trembling like a dry leaf in the wind, his courage—once sharpened by years of charting paths and dodging traps—reduced to ashes under the weight of this hell. Lyra clenched her teeth, a scream trapped in her throat, her mind repeating a desperate plea: Gods, let this end soon. But the gods had no voice here—not in this place where the cold she'd felt in the forest still vibrated in the walls, an echo of the purple-skinned woman's fury that had damned them all.

Silence returned to the chamber like a smothering blanket, broken only by Faelan's choked whimpers and the squelch of moss beneath his soaked knees. Aurora turned her gaze to him, her amber eyes glinting with a glow that cut deeper than any dagger. He remained kneeling, head bowed, his body shaking as a wet puddle formed beneath him, the acrid smell of his fear blending with the blood and earth. Lyra looked at him, her heart twisting at the sight of the cunning scout who'd once read the forest like a book now reduced to a broken shell, his wit drowned in terror.

"And you, scout," Aurora said, her melodious voice dripping with a playful menace, each word a blade wrapped in velvet that sliced through the air. "What will you do now? Beg for your life like that pitiful mage? Offer me maps you don't have?"

Faelan raised his head slowly, his eyes—once alive with spark and guile—now flooded with a raw terror that gleamed like unshed tears. He tried to crawl back, his hands scrabbling for an escape that didn't exist, fingers sinking into the damp moss that held him like a net. "No… no, my lady," he murmured, his voice a trembling thread that snapped with every syllable, barely audible over the chamber's oppressive hum. "I'll… I'll do whatever you want. Just… don't kill me."

Aurora approached, her steps echoing with a calm that clashed with the chaos she'd unleashed, and with a delicate finger, she lifted Faelan's chin, forcing him to meet those amber eyes that seemed to shred his soul into pieces. "Interesting," she said, her tone cold but laced with a cruel delight that made the air quiver. "I see fear in you, scout—a fear so exquisite. But there's more… a wasted cunning, now shattered. Perhaps…" She paused, her smile curving like a scythe, "you could serve me as live bait."

Without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head toward Kaili, a subtle motion heavy with authority, gesturing at him with a disdain that needed no words. Kaili understood instantly, her lips curling into a smile that promised pain, a flicker of her fury from the broken dance—rage that had shaken the dungeon days before—flashing in her dark eyes. She advanced with deliberate steps, her membranous wings rustling with a whisper that cut through the air like an unseen blade, the runes on her purple skin flaring—golden, silver, red—like embers of a frozen fire.

"Please…" Faelan begged, his voice a pathetic whimper that broke into a choked scream as Kaili reached him. With a motion swift as a whipcrack, she seized his left hand, her iron fingers closing around the trembling flesh.

"No," was all he managed before the dry snap echoed through the chamber. Kaili tore off his pinky finger with a single yank, blood spurting like a crimson spring, splattering the moss and staining her boots with a vivid red. Faelan writhed on the ground, his face contorted in agony, his free hand clutching at the bleeding stump as a gut-wrenching scream ripped from his throat, reverberating off the walls like an echo of his own ruin.

Kaili eyed the bloodied finger in her hand, her lips twisting into a sneer of pure contempt. "Pathetic," she growled, her voice icy and laden with scorn, as if Faelan's suffering were a trivial annoyance. With a casual flick, she tossed it to the creature that had been Kaelan, which snatched it midair with a satisfied grunt, devouring it in an instant, leaving only the wet echo of its jaws snapping shut.

"Now," Kaili said, turning to Faelan, who whimpered on the ground, his body convulsing as blood continued to flow, "maybe you'll grasp that your life's worth nothing—only what my Queen decides to do with your scraps." Her runes flared with a silvered edge, a reflection of the fury that had chilled the forest, a wrath that needed no words to cut deeper than her claws.

With a gesture to the golems, she signaled them to take the mutilated scout away. Lyra watched, helpless, as the earthen golems hoisted Faelan by his arms, dragging him across the moss, his blood leaving a crimson trail, his moans fading into the distance like a broken lament. The weight of the horror crushed her, her body trembling as the chamber's cold—the same cold she'd felt in the forest—seeped into her bones, an echo of the "icy inferno" Kaili had unleashed, still lingering in every corner of this cursed place.

When silence reclaimed the chamber, Aurora turned her gaze to Lyra, who stood frozen, her mind teetering on the edge of collapse. Faelan's blood still stained the moss before her, mingling with the acrid reek of her own bladder giving way, a warm puddle spreading beneath her knees. Nausea churned in her gut, her vision blurring as terror consumed her, but she couldn't faint—not here, not under those amber eyes that flayed her alive with every glance.

"Ready to cooperate, adventurer?" Aurora said, her melodious voice dripping with a playful contempt that cut deeper than any scream. She stepped closer, her movements echoing with a calm that mirrored the grotesque throne of Thal'Korath's bones, a relic whispering divine laments beneath her weight. "Or would you rather be my next broken toy?"

Lyra shook, her body on the verge of collapse, but she nodded faintly, not out of hope, but because death was the only alternative she saw in those unrelenting eyes. She knew her life hung by a thread, and every word she spoke would be a desperate bid for one more moment in this hell.

"Good," Aurora said, her smile curving like a hook, cold and sharp. "I see you're sharper than your companions—that amuses me." With a flick of her hand, the roots on the floor rose, twisting like living snakes, and lifted Lyra with a deceptive gentleness, setting her on her feet before her. The moss beneath her boots was soaked with blood and urine, a sticky reminder of her own fragility.

"Now," Aurora continued, her tone a cruel game wrapped in velvet, "tell me everything you know about the Guild's plans. Every detail, every rumor, every whisper you've heard. And in return…" She paused, her amber eyes gleaming with a twisted promise, "I'll give you a gift—you'll forget this place, your companions, my face. Your mind will be mine, an echo that serves without knowing. Isn't that what you crave, to escape this nightmare?"

Lyra stared at her, her mind clouded by terror, a flicker of confusion slicing through the fear. "A… a gift?" she murmured, her voice a broken whisper, barely audible over the deafening thud of her heart.

Aurora nodded, her smile widening, but there was no warmth in it—only a cold delight that froze the blood. "That's right. You'll forget—you'll stumble back to your miserable life, no trace of this place in your head. But don't be fooled," she added, her tone hardening like a dagger's edge, "I don't want your gratitude or your heartfelt loyalty. Just your blind obedience, a useful puppet for my game. Speak, or I'll tear what's left of you apart and use it to feed my flowers."

Lyra swallowed hard, a knot tightening in her throat. There was no hope in that offer—only a trap masked as salvation, an invisible thread that would bind her to this Demon Queen even if her mind forgot. But what choice did she have? Death lurked in every shadow, in every flare of Kaili's runes, in every bone of the throne that seemed to murmur her doom. She nodded again, her head bowing as if the weight of fear had snapped her entirely.

"I swear," she whispered, her trembling voice a faint echo in the chamber. "I'll tell you everything… my lady."

Aurora laughed, a crystalline sound that rang through the walls like a thousand shattered bells, her amusement as cold as the air around them. "Excellent," she said, leaning toward Lyra until her breath brushed her face, a chilling whisper that smelled of black flowers and ancient blood. "Let's begin, then. Tell me, adventurer, what do you fear most in this world?"

Lyra shuddered, her eyes brimming with tears as the words formed in her mind, torn out by fear rather than will. "I… I fear… being alone," she stammered, her voice breaking as memories of her farm—the silence after her parents' death, the empty nights—spilled out uncontrollably. "I fear the silence… the emptiness… and now…" She looked at Aurora, her tears falling to the moss, "I fear this—I fear never escaping."

Aurora listened, her amber eyes glinting with a cruel interest, as if each of Lyra's words were a thread she wove into a larger tapestry, a plan stretching beyond the dungeon's walls, threatening to ensnare all of Eldoria. Kaili, at her side, watched with disdain, her runes flaring as she kicked Faelan's blood trail with a bored grunt. "Talk faster, worm," she hissed, her voice sharp, "or I'll rip out your tongue and make it sing for you."

From the shadows, the human—a figure Lyra couldn't name—remained still, his presence an odd contrast to the nightmare beings around him. She'd glimpsed him before, at the edge of her vision, a man with dark eyes watching her with a cold curiosity, as if her suffering were a rare plant he studied from afar. What was a human doing here, among these creatures of terror? Her fear-addled mind couldn't find answers, only a strangeness that piled onto her dread. He didn't move, didn't speak, his silhouette framed against the red orb's faint glow, hands clasped behind his back as he tilted his head slightly, as if Faelan's pain and Lyra's words were mere curiosities he filed away.

Kaili glanced at him for a moment, a playful spark flitting across her runes, a flicker that stood out against the cruelty she aimed at Lyra and Faelan. But her focus snapped back to the prisoner, her smile widening as Aurora continued her game. "Keep going," she growled, her voice an echo of the cold Lyra had felt in the forest, "or you'll wish you'd died with the mage."

Lyra pressed on, her voice halting as she unearthed every rumor, every secret she'd heard in Eastwatch's taverns—the Guild's plans to track the "anomalous activity," the suspicions about Nueva Eldrin, the names of captains and scouts lost to prior expeditions. Aurora listened, her smile growing with each word, weaving the threads of a plan Lyra couldn't fathom, a design poised to cast a shadow over Eldoria. The moss beneath her feet was cold and wet, the air thick with blood and despair, and as she spoke, she felt her soul slipping away, ensnared in the icy threads Aurora spun around her—a fate she couldn't see, but that had already claimed her.