His eyes flash with delight. “Now there’s a proposition I’m dying to hear.” He turns smoothly, gesturing toward thegrotesque palace behind him. “Come. Let’s not linger in the wastes too long. Even I can’t control all of my creatures’ thirsts.”
I keepmy body close to Daisy’s as we follow Maelkar through the twisted paths of Noxthrallia. The swamp thickens around us, black water flowing beneath warped bridges of rotted wood and bone. Vines drip from twisted trees, slick with decay, and the air reeks of wet earth and something rancid beneath. The shadows never seem to stay still, and every step feels like we’re walking deeper into a nightmare.
The Shadowtongue leads us to his palace—if you can call it that. It rises from the mire like a corpse clawing its way out of the earth. Made entirely of blackened bone and corrupted soul stone, it moans softly with the wind, the stolen souls woven into its walls still trying to scream out for help. Daisy clings tighter to me, her gaze darting around the decrepit courtyard. Even brave as she is, this place is a fucking nightmare; and we haven’t even stepped inside yet.
“Welcome to my little home,” Maelkar purrs, spinning on his heel with his arms stretched wide, facing us with a grin that makes my skin itch. “Forgive the decor. Bones are in fashion this century.”
I don’t respond, my jaw flexing as I watch him closely.
“And this,” he gestures to the tall twisted doors behind him, “is where your salvation begins, or your doom. Depending on how well you negotiate.”
He throws a wink in my direction, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to punch his fucking face in.
“We didn’t come for games,” I growl.
“You came to bargain with temptation incarnate, princeling. Everything is a game to me.” His eyes slide to Daisy again, his tongue slowly dragging along his lower lip. “Especially her.”
Daisy narrows her eyes, lifting her chin. “I’m not some prize to be toyed with, Maelkar.”
He tilts his head and grins wider, his sharp teeth glinting. “No, sunshine. You’re the storm that’ll drown kingdoms. But even the fiercest storms can be bottled… if you find the right vessel.”
I place myself between them, letting what little of my power I have flare, thick black smoke coiling around my shoulders. Just enough to remind him that I’m not in the mood for riddles or flirtation.
He sighs dramatically in response. “Fine. Come in, come in,” he mutters, sweeping the doors open with a wave of his hand. A low groan echoes from within, like the house is alive and reluctant to host us.
We step into the hall of bone and souls, the air thickening instantly. The walls pulse faintly, veins of violet corruption glowing beneath their surface. Maelkar walks ahead, the door groaning closed behind us as we follow him to a chamber that sits deep inside the palace. The floor is a circle of carved runes, black and slick with something that looks like oil… or blood. In the corner is a dark obsidian basin, smoking faintly.
“So,you wish to turn her immortal.” He smirks.
“How—”
“The whispers, Korithax. Even your shields aren’t strong enough to keep everything hidden.”
I grit my teeth. My mental walls were fucking impenetrable; there was no way he could get through them, surely.
“This is where the rite will take place,” Maelkar says, voice suddenly lower. “But first… payment.”
“Name it,” I snap.
Maelkar looks between us, then speaks slowly and deliberately. “I want a memory. One you treasure. One that hurts. One that burns.”
I frown. “Okay, fine.” I go to step toward him.
“No,” he says softly. “Hers.”
I feel Daisy freeze beside me, and I feel the fury bubble inside of me. As if sensing the growing rage inside of me, Maelkar turns his eyes to mine.
“No harm will come to her. No mark left behind. I only want to taste what made her who she is. To understand the fire I’m being asked to ignite.”
“Absolutely not,” I snarl.
“Then the rite does not happen,” Maelkar replies with a shrug, as though we’ve just declined fucking tea. “Your choice.”
I turn to Daisy, but she’s already staring at him, unblinking. Her shoulders are squared, and her chin is raised. She stands at five feet five inches, but she currently faces the Shadowtongue as if she were also seven feet tall.
“You’ll take a memory, but I’ll still remember it, right?”
“Of course,” he says sweetly. “It will merely taste… dimmer. A page half-burned. Still there, but harder to read.”
