Page 38 of Orc’s Gallows

The ropes descend.

Not from the gallows—from the air itself. Witch-hair nooses dropping like serpents, coiling around necks and wrists and ankles. One of Halvard’s men goes down, screaming as the rope constricts around his throat. Another stumbles, caught by bindings that seem to appear from nowhere.

“Your men die for you.” The Judge’s words drip with false sympathy. “Just as they’ve always died for you. Cannon fodder for the Gallows Warden’s authority. Bodies to throw at problems too large for one man to solve.”

I reach the platform.

Ismerie is bound to the central beam, ropes coiled around her wrists and neck and waist. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow, her amethyst-flecked eyes locked on mine with desperate intensity.

I’m here. I’m coming. Hold on.

The Judge steps between us.

Up close, the wrongness of its form is overwhelming. I can see the individual bodies woven into its fused shape—men and women and children, their features frozen in final moments of terror. Some of them I recognize. Some of them I killed.

“You stand on the bones of your victims, Gallows Warden.” The Judge spreads its arms wide. “How does it feel to see them rise?”

“Like every other day in this city.” I raise my blade. “Death doesn’t stay buried in Blackhook. I’ve always known that.”

“But you never cared.” The Judge sharpens. “Never questioned. Never hesitated before pulling the lever.” It gestures at Ismerie. “Until her. Until the brand demanded you protect a death witch instead of executing one.”

“The brand didn’t demand anything.” The words come out harder than I intended. “I chose to save her. I chose to defy the council. I chose to tear apart everything I’d built because⁠—”

“Because the magic compelled you.” The Judge’s stolen faces twist into expressions of contempt. “Because instinct overwhelmed reason. Because you’re no different from the beasts who howl at the moon—a slave to urges you can’t control.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” The Judge leans close, and I smell grave-dirt and old blood on its breath. “Then prove it. Release the claiming. Break the bond that binds you to her. Show me that your devotion is more than magical compulsion.”

Break the bond. Let her go.

The thought rises unbidden, poisonous in its simplicity. If I release the claiming, the Judge might let her live. Might accept her as an anchor without destroying me first. She could survive, even if we’re no longer bound.

But Era’s rule holds: both parties must want separation.

And I don’t want it.

“No.” The word comes out unwavering. Certain. “I’m not releasing her. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“Then you condemn her.” The Judge straightens to its full height. “To watch her mate die. To sense the sigil tear itself from her flesh as your life ends. To spend the rest of her existence knowing that your stubbornness killed you both.”

The ropes around Ismerie constrict. She gasps, her body arching against the bindings.

I attack.

The Judge is faster than it has any right to be.

My blade carves through the space where its chest should be, but the merged form simply shifts—bodies rearranging themselves to avoid the strike. Arms sprout from shoulders, hands grasping for my neck, faces screaming accusations from positions no living creature could occupy.

I duck under a reaching limb, slash at the rope-woven robes, feel my blade bite into witch-hair and stolen flesh. The Judge shrieks—a hundred voices harmonizing in pain—and I press the advantage.

But I’m fighting on its throne.

The gallows respond to the Judge’s will. The platform tilts beneath my feet. The ropes reach for me with hungry intent. The death wards carved into every surface blaze with cold light, draining my strength with every second I remain on this cursed timber.

The mating bond sears against my flesh—Ismerie’s fear flooding through the connection, her desperation matching my own. She’s struggling against her bindings, dark power crackling at her fingertips, but the suppression ropes are holding. Even a death witch can’t break free of witch-hair bonds while her magic is bound.

I need to reach her. Need to cut her free. Need to⁠—