A Vow of Vengeance and Silk

Chapter 25: Chapter Twenty Six: Corruption Edge



Kaelan's breath rattled in his chest, each exhale flecked with blood. Seraphine pressed her makeshift bandage harder against his thigh, the fabric soaking through too quickly. The black veins beneath her own skin pulsed with a sickening rhythm, mirroring the dying spasms of the crown across the hall. "Rooted deeper than bone…" The whisper coiled in her mind like smoke. She clenched her corrupted hand, nails biting into her palm. Not yet. Not while he's breathing.A splash echoed from the shattered archway. Seraphine snatched Pip's dagger, whirling to face the water, Rook hauled herself onto the broken marble, her crossbow lost, one arm hanging uselessly. Blood matted the hair above her temple, and her mismatched eyes burned with fury. Behind her, Brick emerged like a mountain rising from the deep, water sluicing off his massive shoulders, the hooks still embedded there weeping fresh crimson.

"Took you… long enough," Kaelan managed, his voice a threadbare rasp. Rook's gaze swept the carnage, the withered crown, the mound of dying thorns, Kaelan's ashen face, Seraphine's black-veined hand gripping the dagger. Her good eye narrowed. "What in the Seven Hells did you do, Viper?" "Wounded the heart," Seraphine said, her own voice sounding distant. "It didn't like that." Brick grunted, lumbering toward Kaelan. He knelt with surprising gentleness, his huge hands probing the gash on Kaelan's thigh. "Needs stitching. Fire. Clean blade." He looked up at Seraphine, his expression unreadable. "Your hand." Seraphine instinctively pulled her corrupted arm back. The veins throbbed, a dull ache spreading toward her elbow. "It's nothing." "It's something, " Rook countered, stepping closer. She didn't flinch from the sight. "Crown's mark. Saw it on the others before they… changed." Her milky white eye seemed to see too much. "How deep is it in you?" Before Seraphine could answer, Kaelan's hand closed weakly over her corrupted wrist. His skin was still too cold. "Seraphine… look at me." She forced her gaze away from the spreading blackness and met his eyes. Pain lived there, exhaustion, but also a fierce, unwavering focus. "You fought it," he breathed. "You hurt it. That means it can be hurt." He coughed, a wet, wrenching sound. "Don't… don't let it tell you otherwise." A fresh wave of agony lanced through her temple. The crown's whisper surged, no longer weak, but sharp and venomous; Foolish child. You only pruned a branch. The roots remain. And they remember your blood. Visions flooded her, not of power or vengeance this time, but of decay. Her skin cracking like dry earth, thorns erupting from her fingertips. Her eyes turning empty black voids. Kaelan's lifeless body at her feet, vines curling possessively around his throat. This is your future. Your inheritance. Seraphine gasped, staggering back. Her corrupted hand spasmed, the dagger clattering to the floor. "Seraphine!" Rook grabbed her shoulder. "It's… still in my head," Seraphine choked out, pressing her clean hand to her temple. The thorn burned like a coal. "Talking. Showing me…" Brick ripped a strip of leather from his belt, tightening a tourniquet high on Kaelan's thigh. "Need to move. Water rising. Dead things stirring." He was right. The black water lapped higher at the shattered edges of the hall. Shapes moved beneath its surface, not skeletal figures now, but thick, root-like tendrils probing blindly, drawn by the crown's distress or Seraphine's corruption. Rook cursed, scooping up Pip's dagger and pressing it back into Seraphine's trembling hand. "Listen to me, Viper. That thing *feeds* on fear. On despair. You want to fight it?" She jabbed a finger toward the broken crown. "Then fight dirty. Make it angry." Kaelan tried to push himself up on his elbows, face paling. "Rook… the eastern tunnel…" "Collapsed," Brick rumbled, hefting Kaelan's arm over his massive shoulders. "Only way out's up. Through the gardens." The gardens. Where the black roses dripped narcotic sap. Where the crown's influence was strongest. The crown's laugh echoed in Seraphine's skull. Come home, daughter. Let me show you your true roots. Seraphine looked down at her corrupted hand. The black veins pulsed, a traitorous rhythm beneath her skin. She clenched it into a fist, feeling the unnatural strength thrumming there. "Alright," she said, the word tasting like iron. "We go through the gardens." She turned toward the archway leading upward, but her corrupted hand twitched, not toward the exit, but toward the dying mound of thorns where the crown lay broken. A silent command whispered through her vein; "kneel", For a terrifying heartbeat, her legs trembled, muscles obeying a will that is not hers…


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