Chapter 16 - Beneath the Bloodless Dawn

The first light of dawn crept over Eryndor's broken skyline, a cold, gray veil that did nothing to warm the blood-soaked stones of the Square of Sorrow. Magnus Varik stood amidst the wreckage, his breath steaming in the chill, his human form trembling from exhaustion and the curse's lingering growl. The altar's ashes smoldered, the priestess's ichor staining his hands, but the silence was a lie—Vyrnathra's chant still echoed in his bones, faint but unyielding, a promise of worse to come. Isabella's escape gnawed at him, her parting words a splinter in his mind: The Mother's children are everywhere. The city he'd sworn to protect was a stranger, its heart beating to her rhythm.Lirien knelt nearby, binding her wounded leg with a strip of torn cloak, her storm-gray eyes scanning the square for threats. Jakob stood guard, his sword sheathed but his hand restless, his face carved with grief for the fallen Brotherhood—now only three, their names heavy on Magnus's tongue: Veyne, Torren, and a wiry youth called Sarr, barely old enough to hold a spear. The air reeked of blood and ash, the runes on the walls dim but alive, pulsing like a wound that refused to close."We can't stay here," Lirien said, her voice hoarse but sharp, cutting through the haze. "The cultists scattered, but they'll regroup. And Isabella—she's not done with you."Magnus's jaw tightened, the beast stirring at her name, its hunger a blade twisting in his gut. "She'll answer for this," he growled, his voice raw, human but threaded with the beast's edge. "But first, we secure the city. The keep—my council's there. If Eryndor's fallen, I'll know it from them."Jakob's eyes darkened, doubt flickering. "My lord, if the keep's compromised—""Then we cut through," Magnus snapped, claws twitching unbidden, the curse flaring at the thought of betrayal. He turned to the Brotherhood, their faces pale but resolute. "Veyne, scout the northern streets. Torren, Sarr, hold the square's edge. Signal if anything moves."The men nodded, moving with the grim efficiency of those who'd seen too much death. Magnus led Lirien and Jakob toward the keep, the city's labyrinthine alleys closing around them like a trap. The streets were unnaturally quiet, windows shuttered, doors barred, but eyes watched from the shadows—human, perhaps, or something worse. The curse pulsed, sharper now, as if Eryndor's stones were soaked in Vyrnathra's will.They reached the keep's outer gates, their iron twisted, guards absent, blood streaking the cobbles in patterns too deliberate for chance. Magnus's heart sank, the beast growling, eager to tear into whatever waited inside. Lirien's spear lowered, her posture tense, while Jakob's hand hovered near his sword, his loyalty a tether Magnus clung to."Stay close," Magnus said, pushing the gate open, its hinges screaming in protest. The courtyard beyond was a slaughterhouse—guards lay strewn, their throats torn, their faces branded with Vyrnathra's claw. The keep's doors hung ajar, torchlight flickering within, casting shadows that writhed like living things.A figure emerged from the gloom, not a cultist but a woman, her silhouette framed against the torchlight. She was tall, her auburn hair cascading in waves, her emerald gown torn at the shoulder, revealing pale skin marred by bruises. Her eyes, a deep hazel, locked onto Magnus, and the air shifted, charged with something primal, electric. The beast stirred, not with hunger but with a longing that burned deeper, sharper, catching him off guard."Lord Varik," she said, her voice low, melodic, but edged with steel. "You're alive. I prayed you would be."Magnus froze, the curse pulsing in time with his heart, the beast's growl softening to a purr. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rough, fighting the urge to step closer, to breathe her in.She stepped into the light, her beauty striking, raw, like a blade honed by grief. "Selene Arwyn," she said, her gaze unwavering. "Daughter of Lord Arwyn, your father's ally. I've been hiding since the marked came. The council—they're dead or turned. The keep's theirs now."Lirien's spear didn't waver, her eyes narrowing. "Convenient you survived when no one else did."Selene's lips twitched, a flicker of defiance. "Not convenient. Desperate. I know these halls better than they do. I've kept them at bay, but not for long."Magnus studied her, the beast's instincts screaming—she was no cultist, no werewolf, but something about her pulled at him, a thread tied to his blood, his curse. Her scent was wild, like rain and cedar, laced with a fear she hid well. The beast wanted her—not to kill, but to claim, a desire that shocked him, forbidden by the laws of his station, his duty. He was lord, not lover, yet the thought of her skin under his hands burned through him, reckless and consuming."Prove it," he growled, stepping closer, his voice low, the beast's edge bleeding through. "Take us to the council chamber. If you're lying, you die."Selene's eyes flashed, not with fear but challenge, and she nodded. "Follow me. But be ready—they're not human anymore."She led them through the keep's shadowed halls, her movements silent, predatory, as if she'd learned to hunt in these walls. Magnus followed, Lirien and Jakob at his heels, the air growing thicker, the chant's echo faint but present, seeping from the stones. The beast paced, its hunger shifting—Selene's presence was a fire, and he was kindling, the curse twisting his desire into something raw, dangerous.They reached a stairwell, its steps slick with blood, and Selene paused, her hand brushing Magnus's arm as she turned. The touch was fleeting, but it ignited him, the beast roaring, his human restraint crumbling. Her eyes met his, hazel depths that saw the monster and didn't flinch, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just them—lord and noblewoman, man and beast, bound by a hunger neither could name."We're close," she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek, her voice trembling—not with fear, but something else, something that mirrored his own forbidden longing. "But if we die, I need to know you're worth it."Magnus's claws twitched, the beast urging him to pull her close, to taste the pulse at her throat, to lose himself in her. "I'm worth nothing," he growled, his voice raw, human heart warring with beastly need. "But I'll fight for you anyway."Her lips parted, a breath escaping, and before he could stop himself, he kissed her—hard, desperate, a clash of teeth and heat that drowned the chant, the curse, the war. She answered with equal ferocity, her hands gripping his bloodied armor, pulling him into a shadowed alcove, the stone cold against their backs. The world dissolved, duty and danger forgotten, as the beast took over, not to kill but to love, primal and unrestrained.Their bodies pressed together, her gown tearing under his claws, his armor discarded in a frenzy. Skin met skin, her warmth a stark contrast to the keep's chill, and Magnus felt the curse shift—not weakening, but blending, his humanity and beast entwining in a dance as old as blood. She gasped against his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood that mingled with hers, a forbidden union sealed in the dark. It was no gentle love but a storm—raw, urgent, a defiance of the gods and Vyrnathra herself, each thrust a rebellion against the curse that sought to claim him.Lirien's sharp cough broke the haze, her spear tapping the stone, her eyes averted but urgent. "Magnus, now," she hissed, Jakob's silhouette tense behind her, his face unreadable.Magnus pulled back, panting, Selene's eyes burning into his, her lips swollen, her breath ragged. "This changes nothing," she whispered, but her voice cracked, betraying the lie. She adjusted her torn gown, her defiance returning, and led them onward, Magnus's blood still singing with her touch.The council chamber loomed, its doors splintered, the chant louder now, a chorus of marked voices within. Selene paused, her hand on the wood, and glanced at Magnus, a flicker of fear in her eyes—not for herself, but for him. "They're waiting," she said, her voice steady. "And they know you're coming."Magnus nodded, claws lengthening, the beast eager now, fueled by Selene's fire, by the forbidden taste of her. "Let them," he growled, pushing past her, the door shattering under his strength.Inside, the chamber was a nightmare—councilors stood, their faces branded, their eyes red, claws sprouting from once-human hands. At their center was a new figure, not Isabella but a man, tall and gaunt, his robes black, his eyes twin voids that swallowed light. He smiled, a predator's grin, and raised a clawed hand, the chant surging."Welcome, heir," he purred, his voice a blade in Magnus's mind. "Vyrnathra's been expecting you."The beast roared, Magnus's vision tinting red, Selene's touch a burning memory as he charged, the curse alive, the war for Eryndor's soul erupting anew.