Eryshae

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Vael

The gates of the Eberflame estate loomed like iron fangs in the night, their golden crest glinting beneath the watch-lanterns. Cool air slithered through the trees lining the estate road, each leaf trembling with more than just wind. Somewhere far behind them, Emberhold's festival fires were still burning.

Mira kept the reins tight as she drove the carriage forward, her assassin's calm only betrayed by the tension in her shoulders. The raccoons pulling the carriage chittered softly, restless but obedient under the subtle touch on their bridles.

Vael didn't move. Slumped in the back of the enclosed carriage, her eyes fluttered half-shut, lips parted just enough to simulate the effect of a mild narcotic. Her skin had been dusted with a pale powder to make her look more wan, more delicate. Her hair was mussed and cascading down around her shoulders like ivy gone untamed. The golden chain cuffs shimmered with each shallow breath she took.

She looked like a prize. A gift wrapped in shame and softness. The carriage creaked to a halt. "We're here," Mira murmured, slipping from her seat and landing silently on the gravel path. A stable attendant; young, unbothered; approached, yawning as he reached for the reins.

"Fancy cargo this late," he muttered, eyeing the raccoons with a mix of boredom and wariness. "She's for the master," Mira replied coolly, tossing him a coin. "Don't let them bite."

The boy chuckled, leading the raccoons away toward the hidden pens beneath the stable eaves. "I've seen worse things than noble pets," he called over his shoulder. "Though I can't say I've seen a lady so still. Drugged, is she?"

"She's what she needs to be," Mira said, her tone flat. Two guards approached, draped in the crimson half-cloak of House Eberflame's private guard. Their eyes flicked toward the open carriage door and widened slightly. "Oho," one of them said under his breath, elbowing the other. "Didn't think we'd see her trussed up so quick."

"Nobles and their appetites," the second muttered, grabbing Vael under her arms as Mira directed them. They hauled Vael out as if she were unconscious baggage. Mira led them wordlessly across the courtyard stones, through a servants' hall that reeked of lavender and iron, and up the stairs to the estate's main wing. The guards didn't question the route; they'd clearly been instructed.

They reached the wide oak doors of the study. Inside, firelight cast long shadows against the ancient stone walls. The stained-glass windows glittered with reds and ambers, like blood caught in crystal. A large map of the Eryshae Peninsula dominated the back wall, its painted coasts edged with runes and troop markers. The air smelled of old leather, perfume, and something older; burnt resin, perhaps, or sealed promises.

Ruwan Eberflame sat with one leg crossed over the other, a teacup balanced in his gloved hand. Victoria; silent and ever-unnerving; stood at his side, her face calm as she refilled his cup from a steaming pot.

"Set her down there," Ruwan said, gesturing to the rug before the hearth. The guards complied. Vael allowed her body to go limp, heart pounding, each breath a careful performance. Mira knelt beside her, checking the golden chains, brushing a hand against Vael's wrist as a subtle signal.

They were inside. Ruwan sipped his tea slowly, his eyes never leaving Vael's body. "Finally," he murmured. "The Eryshae's darling. Delivered like a wrapped tithe." He looked to Mira with the barest flicker of a smile. "Well done."

Ruwan rose from his chair with a leisurely grace, setting his teacup down on a carved obsidian saucer. Firelight glinted across the gold trim of his dark tunic, throwing fractured light against the stone floor like a shattered sun.

He approached slowly, footsteps soft but full of authority. His eyes raked over Vael's bound form with a glimmer of triumph, the barest twitch of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "After all this time," he said, voice silk-wrapped steel, "it's almost disappointing how easily legends fall. The Blood-Bound Flame of Eryshae, broken down to chains and silence."

Vael didn't move. Didn't breathe too deeply. Her heart thundered in her chest like fists against a coffin lid. Mira stood still, hands behind her back. Watching. Waiting for the moment.

Ruwan turned to her. "You've done well, Mira," he said smoothly. "You've proven your loyalty beyond doubt. You'll be rewarded. Rest now. Return to your quarters. Your next assignment will come shortly. Victoria, you may leave as well." As Ruwan glanced at Victoria by his side.

Mira blinked. That wasn't the plan. That wasn't the plan at all. Her gaze darted to Vael; still unmoving on the rug; and back to Ruwan. She didn't step forward, not quite, but her voice came with a rare crack of uncertainty. "I thought I was to remain and; "

"You thought," Ruwan said, cutting her off with a raised finger. He didn't raise his voice, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable. "You've done what I required. Don't presume your usefulness exceeds the hour." Mira's jaw flexed. Her eyes lingered on Vael. Just long enough to send an unspoken message: Stay alive.

Vael, still slack and motionless, caught the briefest flicker of guilt behind Mira's mask. It was like a crack in a porcelain statue; tiny, but impossible to ignore once seen. Mira bowed stiffly. "As you wish, my lord." She turned.

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The study doors opened without a creak and closed again behind her with a muffled thud. Vael was alone. Ruwan exhaled slowly, as though savoring the scent of victory. He crouched before her, examining her face.

"I wonder what you're thinking right now," he said softly. "If you're awake in there. If you're pretending. If somewhere behind those clever eyes you're already dreaming up how to kill me."

He leaned closer, one gloved finger trailing along the line of her jaw. "But here's the thing about dreams, my dear Vael." He smiled. "They don't last."

Vael didn't twitch. Didn't blink. She let her limbs hang heavy, her breath shallow and slow; just enough to mimic the dull haze of a potent sedative. But beneath her lashes, she watched him. Every movement. Every shift of tone. Every crack in his mask.

Ruwan rose again and turned his back to her, stepping toward the towering windows that overlooked the burning horizon of Emberhold. The amber in his study; housed in a crystalline reliquary; glowed with a low, smoldering pulse. Its light danced across the walls like a heartbeat that didn't belong to any living thing.

His voice came low, almost wistful. "They think I want power. That I crave dominion, titles, armies. No." He spread his arms slightly, as if opening himself to some unseen audience. "I want divinity." His voice hardened.

"They've forgotten what it means. The Eryshae tribes with their roots and their balance. The city-states with their crab gods and water-bound oaths. All of them crawl in circles, worshipping guardians who do nothing but watch." He turned toward the Amber; reverent now, almost prayerful.

"But I remember. I remember what the Titans once were. What they wielded before they fell. This world wasn't made with balance. It was shaped by will. Desire. Fire. War. Sacrifice."

His eyes gleamed, catching the amber light. "The Titan's Amber remembers. It sings to me, Vael." He stepped back toward her, lowering himself again until he was crouched at her side.

"I will burn down the false forests. Shatter the brittle oaths of the old Guardians. I will not kneel before roots and riddles. When I rise; when we rise; there will be no more bargains. No more balance. Only a world shaped by my hands."

His fingers hovered near her collarbone. "You were to be my bride, Vael. My flame. A queen of ashes beside a god. But even if you refuse me now… you will still play your part."

He stood again, walking toward the reliquary. "When the Amber opens fully," he said softly, "I will speak the True Name. The one buried beneath the First Sin. The one that unmade the Treant's Roar."

His hand pressed against the amber's casing. It pulsed like a dying star. "And when I do, this world will not just tremble." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It will kneel."

Ruwan turned away from the reliquary and reached for the amber. His fingers caressed its surface with almost sensual reverence. The golden-red core pulsed beneath its polished shell; like fire caught mid-breath, like memory bound in fossil. He lifted it carefully, holding it up to the lamplight as if trying to drink in its essence. It cast ripples of molten gold across his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes.

"So much history," he murmured, voice thick with hunger. "So much potential." He turned it slowly, watching the veins of shadow spiral within its heart; like tendrils reaching for something long buried. After a breathless moment, he exhaled and lowered the amber.

With delicate precision, he rewrapped it in the dark cloth and slid it into the ornate lockbox behind his desk. He turned the key twice and sealed it with a whisper of a lock.

Then, he turned to her. Vael fought the instinct to brace herself. Ruwan crossed the room in two strides. Without ceremony, he grabbed her by the upper arm, his grip hard and impatient. "Time to bring you somewhere more... personal," he muttered, as if speaking to a possession instead of a person.

He hoisted her half up, half dragging, half carrying her body from the study. Her boots scuffed against the carpeted floor. The gold chain cuffs clinked softly with each step. The hall outside was quiet; too quiet. Somewhere distant, a servant whispered. A candle guttered.

But no one stopped him. No one questioned it. Ruwan's word in the Eberflame estate was law. As the heavy door of the study thudded closed behind them, Vael kept her body slack, her breathing slow; but her heart thundered in her ears.

Not yet.

Not here.

But soon.

He had touched the Amber with reverence. Now he would make his greatest mistake. He was taking her deeper into the lion's den. And she had teeth of her own.

The door groaned open on well-oiled hinges. Ruwan pulled her inside with little ceremony, the heavy chains around her ankles clinking across the marble floor. The air shifted. It was warmer here; thick with perfumed smoke, sandalwood and something darker underneath… like scorched cedar and old blood.

The room was lavish. Ornate tapestries hung like silent witnesses on the walls; depictions of ancient kings, treants wreathed in flame, and golden beasts devouring suns. A four-posted bed loomed near the far wall, draped in red silks embroidered with Eberflame's sigil: a thorned sun bleeding at its edges. Candles flickered in wrought-iron sconces, and shadows danced like serpents around the chamber's edges.

Ruwan's grip tightened on her arm. He dragged her halfway into the center of the room and released her with a shove. Vael allowed her body to crumple, falling to her knees in a practiced sprawl. Her hair fell over her face. She stayed limp. Listening.

Behind her, the door clicked shut. Then came the metallic clunk of the lock turning; slow, deliberate. A silence. Then: "There. Just you and I now," Ruwan said, his voice low, intimate, touched with madness.

He paced behind her. She could hear his boots against the marble; soft but assured. Then, the faint rustle of him unfastening his coat, the sound of it sliding off his shoulders and being set aside. She didn't dare look. Not yet.

"I thought I'd feel... triumphant," he muttered, more to himself than her. "But it's not quite enough, is it? Having you here. Seeing you brought low. Even this isn't enough."

A pause. "I wonder what your people would think, seeing their little flame curled at my feet like a broken offering." Vael's fingers twitched against the stone; barely. Controlled.

His footsteps approached. She felt his presence loom over her, smelled the smoke and wine on his breath. "I used to admire you, you know. The speeches. The way you looked at that crowd. Even Sam; poor, stupid Sam; believed you had the spark."

Silence again. Then a soft sound. The scrape of a chair being pulled out. He sat down behind her. Watching.

Judging. Unraveling. "You'll come to understand," he whispered. "They all will. The Amber shows me things. It tells me how this ends." Vael exhaled shallowly through her nose. Time was narrowing. She didn't know where Mira was now. If the guards had seen something. If the Amber was still secure in the study; but she did know this:

The lock had clicked behind her. The monster was monologuing. And within reach of her thigh, just under the corset Mira had helped her into was a blade.

Still hidden.

Still sharp.

Not yet.

Not yet.

But soon.

The moment would come.

And when it did…

Ruwan Eberflame would learn that some flames were meant to burn gods.