“Let me go!” The words blurted out twisted, high, shaking, more a plea than a command. And really, he wasn’t the one who needed saving. “That’s my sister! You can’t just, she’s sick, the ritual will kill her. Don’t any of you understand what the Sacred Vessel ritual actually does?”Elder Dorn’s voice sliced through it all cold, sharp, absolute. The same old man Aeris used to drag firewood to every winter, who’d patched up cuts on his hands and said things like, “You’ve got good, steady bones for hard work.” But now Dorn’s face was something new, nothing like anger. Just calculation. Hard, icy math.“Elder Dorn,” Aeris froze, clinging to one last scrap of foolish hope. “Tell them. Tell them to let her go. You’ve known us forever. She can hardly walk half the mornings. How in the world could she be a sacred vessel?”“The village has been chosen for imperial favor, boy.” Dorn’s voice was flat, empty, every word sounding practiced. He wasn’t even talking to Aeris, not really. “Do you unde

Pain shot down his arm from the dislocated shoulder, harsh enough that his vision blurred around the edges. He fought through it anyway, the same way he’d survived six years of exhaustion, not because he was strong, just because the idea of stopping never once felt like an option. His bare feet slapped against stone slick with condensation and something darker. The shackle still chained to his wrist swung wildly as he ran, catching flashes from the wavering torchlight in the chamber.“Stop him!” Thorne’s voice cracked, actually scared for once.Two mages broke from the outer ring, hands moving fast, their sleeves blazing with bright sigils as they scrambled to block his way to the altar. Aeris didn’t check his pace. He didn’t have a plan, or anything close to strategy, just a burning certainty that, if he stopped now, she’d die and he’d survive, and that trade was never going to be okay.One mage finished his incantation just before Aeris reached him, conjuring a wall of compressed ai

Mine.That word cut through Aeris, harsh and strange, as if it didn’t belong to him at all. It felt wrong, too desperate, too greedy, like hunger clawing under his skin. And for one dizzy, bone-deep second, Aeris knew it, whatever had nested in his chest during the ritual wasn’t just lending him power. It was alive. Awake. It wanted things he didn’t.But there was no time to really figure that out, or even get scared. The broad-shouldered mage’s eyes went wide and wild. He fumbled with a spell, panic making his hands shake. The woman with that icy, sharp glare started backing up, muttering fast, something about getting to Thorne. Only the cold one stood his ground. Sigils blinked to life along his sleeve, burning bright enough to hurt.“Vane,” the big mage croaked, voice flickering between warning and begging. “Vane, the reports never said anything about a Demon Core living in a human host. We have to back off. Regroup. Get help,”“I don’t run from shadows,” Vane snapped, not even gla

By the time Aeris and Alba reached the tree line, smoke was already curling above Stonevale, thick and ugly, scrawling across the sky like a warning. Even before he could see the village, Aeris knew something was deeply wrong. The flames weren’t the warm, controlled glow of hearth fires or cookpots. They raged in wild, hungry tongues, devouring rooftops and leaping from house to house. He saw it and felt his stomach drop. This wasn’t some accident. This was deliberate. He caught his breath, voice breaking. “No.” The word came out more plea than protest, but he started running, dragging Alba with him, ignoring the ache in his own bones and the fever-shiver still in his blood.They crested the last hill and, for a moment, just stopped. Everything they’d known was gone. Not even ruins, a graveyard of charred wood, shattered stone, piles of ash where lives and laughter had been hours earlier. The square, where just that morning neighbors had gathered in the sunlight, was now chaos. Carts

Out in the middle of nowhere, where the forest pressed in thick and close and even the most determined imperial hounds would wave off the chase, Rhea finally unrolled the full map near their little fire. The flames threw restless shadows across her face as Aeris edged closer, careful not to wake Alba. She was out cold at last, her breathing slow and even under the scrap of blanket Rhea had dug out of her pack, clinging to Aeris like he was a life raft. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her sleep so deeply.Rhea’s map looked old enough to belong in a royal archive, creases worn soft, corners curled, ink smudged in places but never unreadable. Seven names, seven places. Aeris tried to picture them, but most were just words to him. Capital manors, monasteries perched way up in the north, a laboratory sealed shut beneath a river. He was lost, honestly. But Rhea handled that map like it was her own hand, her finger traced the names, the route like she’d done it a hundred times i