Dawn painted Sylvanthresh's courtyard in pale gold as Arutoria Duskborn stared at the communication crystal in her palm, its glow long faded. The memory of William's voice still hissed in her mind like static.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, William?" Her own words from hours prior echoed back—sharper now, tinged with the chill of hindsight.
"You'll understand soon. For now… just watch." His reply had been infuriatingly calm, the crystal humming with Stormrend's distant crackle.
"Just watch? You killed one of Leofric's subordinates. If he discovers this—"
"The count was a pawn. I removed it. Nothing more.And he was going to betray father." A pause, then colder: "Keep eyes on Garios and Robert. Their moves reek of outside influence. And Arutoria? Every cut I make… severs a threat to both our houses."
She'd gripped the crystal tighter, thorns pricking her palm. "Then why not tell Leofric?"
"Honor blinds him. But you, you… adapt."
Now, in the cold morning light, Arutoria's fingers tightened around the locket at her throat—a habit when lies pricked her conscience. "I'll help you," she'd finally said, the words tasting of ash. "But hide nothing else."
The Count's mansion back in Blackmoor echoed with Edmund's laughter, the new Count sprawled in his father's velvet-cushioned chair, a goblet of wine sloshing in his unsteady grip. Toasting to his own ascension, he thought bitterly—until the candles guttered.
A cloaked figure materialized from the shadows. Before Edmund could scream, a cloth soaked in something sickly-sweet clamped over his mouth.
He awoke to the drip-drip of moisture and the skitter of chitinous legs. Cold stone bit into his knees. "Who dares kidnap the Count?!" he slurred, the wine's warmth replaced by creeping dread.
Ira flung him forward. His palms slapped against a floor slick with… Were those webs? Glass vials lined the walls, glowing with neon liquids. Beetles scuttled over his boots.
She yanked off her hood, honey-brown eyes glinting in the eerie green light. "Celebrating so soon, Edmund?" Her voice dripped with mockery. "No tears for your dear Father?"
"What are you—let me go!" He scrambled back, but the door was already a distant silhouette.
Ira crouched, her smile a sickle. "Oh, we're just beginning."
Edmund's voice wavered, but he jutted his chin. "You c-can't do anything to me, Ira. Harm me, and the blame on your family deepens."
Click. Her tongue struck the roof of her mouth like a serpent's warning. "Unusually smart today," she purred, tracing a finger along a shelf of amber vials. Insects hissed in their jars. "But wrong."
She turned, the greenish light carving her face into something skeletal. "I can't kill you. But torture?" A vial rattled as she plucked it free, liquid inside swirling like molten envy. "Confess, and I'll make you forget this room. Forget me."
Her smile widened—not a curve of lips, but a crack splitting porcelain. Edmund recoiled, boots scraping against the damp stone as she stepped closer.
William's black stallion Nyx's hooves thundered through the forest, Elara's arms cinched tight around William's waist as pine needles whipped past. Beside them, Aurelia's white mare glided like a specter, her ice-blue gaze flicking to the bandits trailing behind.
"What do you plan on doing once you return?" William called over his shoulder, voice steady despite the breakneck pace.
Elara's grip tightened. "I don't know, I—" The words died, swallowed by the wind.
"We'll figure it out," he said, softer.
She rested her cheek against his back, her smile fragile as dawn. "You helped me back then… and now. Thank you, William."
He stiffened imperceptibly. "You saved my life. Consider this a debt repaid."
Aurelia watched from the corner of her eye, the way Elara's fingers trembled against William's cloak. She knows, she thought. She knows what happened to William in that missing year.
Back at Ira's place, the dim candle light flickered against stone walls, casting jagged shadows over the broken body at her feet. She glared down, her honey-brown eyes burning with frustration. "Persistent bastard," she muttered, delivering a sharp kick to the skinless, quivering form. His fingers were shattered, nails ripped clean off, dried blood caking the floor beneath him.
She crouched beside him, her voice low and dangerously smooth. "Listen, Edmund, all of this will end if you just tell me who did this." She pulled a small vial from her belt and poured its shimmering liquid over him. His flesh began to mend, muscles weaving back together, skin knitting over exposed wounds, his body slowly returning to its original state.
Edmund sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing with defiance. "Fuck off."
A flicker of rage crossed Ira's face before it twisted into something darker. "You fucking bastard!" she snarled. Grabbing the back of his head, she slammed his skull against the cold, unforgiving wall with a sickening crack. His breath hitched, but she wasn't done. A small, black centipede curled around her finger, its legs twitching eagerly. With a wicked smirk, she pressed it against his temple, forcing it into his ear canal.
Edmund's body convulsed, his breathing turning ragged. The moment the centipede wriggled inside, his lips parted in a strangled gasp, then a full-bodied scream. He thrashed against the stone, muscles seizing as if fire crawled beneath his skin. Ira only watched, her expression unreadable, as his wails tore through the chamber.
"This will keep happening," she whispered, her voice almost gentle beneath his agonized cries, "until you talk, Edmund."
Rowena's chambers in Frostspire were bathed in the cold blue glow of the spirit tome, its pages rustling faintly as shadows danced along the walls. The spirits—translucent wisps of silver and gray—darted between shelves, tugging at her hair and giggling in whispers only she could hear.
"Could you… come here for a moment?" she asked, fingers brushing the tome's weathered spine.
The spirits stilled, their murmurs thickening like fog. One drifted closer, its form flickering as Rowena held up a charcoal sketch—a swirling tempest with eyes like fractured lightning.
The room plunged into silence.
"That's the Storm Entity," a spirit hissed, its voice the creak of ancient timber. "A higher being…" Another recoiled, its edges fraying. "Your brother… knows it well."
Rowena leaned forward, her cerulean eyes widening. "My brother?"
The first spirit dissolved into mist, its final words echoing. "William…"