Chapter 39: Wayward

It hesitated, and for a heartbeat, nothing moved: The wind through the trees, the crackle of frost beneath shifting weight, and the descent of snow against the earth— but the portal. It pulsed patiently and alive, as its edges warped the air.

For a long moment, silence reigned in the forest, stretching longer than necessary. Finally, it exchanged glances between the portal and Vaeron, who watched him with detached interest, and the portal then landed on him again.

“W-What do you take me for?” It hissed, shooting daggers at him that never quite sharpened into glare. “That I’d risk myself again?”

“I was hoping you’d have learnt the difference between help and release, but it seems the distinction appears more arduous than it ought to be,” Vaeron deadpanned. “You’ve been obedient. Save what little energy you have and return from where you came from,”

Its breath misted in uneven bursts as it straightened, forcing a dignity its body no longer possessed, and scoffed bitterly. “A-And might you not desire to seek that information?”

“What I desire exists well beyond the living and non-living cognition, rest assured,” Vaeron replied evenly.

It let out a huffing, awful laugh. “Then why keep me?” it snapped. “If I am beneath your curiosity, beneath your wrath, why not end it?”

Vaeron’s gaze lifted at that slowly and deliberately. His eyes were not angry but they held the calculative weight of mystery, as though every word spoken was already measured against its consequence. “Because you’ve been compliant,” he responded, almost deferentially. “And amenability deserves gratuity,”

It studied him intently with suspicion tightening its expression. Then its attention returned to the portal as shadows pulsed beside it. It was unstable but open – wide enough. Real enough.

It was drawn to the energy like honey in the mouth of a child, and for a fleeting moment, it ignored the cost that came after. Cold power spilled outward, whispering of freedom, of distance, and of escape. It reached for the creature with a hunger that mirrored its own, and at that moment, the promise of liberation was far greater than the risk.

Could it trust the words of a Sin? Could he—for real this time, offer it freedom?

Vaeron watched the creature wrestle with its own decision. Seconds passed, and still the portal throbbed softly with a constant pull. Even with its uncertainty greater, he knew the outcome. It always chose the same way.

It glanced back at him, eyes narrowed with disbelief and something close to hope. “Y-Y-You’re… letting me go?” It rasped.

Vaeron’s expression didn’t change. “Perhaps,”

The creature’s shoulder rose and fell as it steadied itself, tightening its jaw as though resolve were something it could force back into place. “That’s not an answer,” It seethed, its words scarcely more than a ragged breath. And then it sighed, the sound brittle. “And why… Why should I trust you this time?” It stated the obvious, staring at those deceptive hazel eyes.

He regarded it for a long moment before answering. “You shouldn’t,” he said at last with a voice born of glaze, and a look of enigma. “But desperation has never cared for wisdom,”

That seemed to settle something in it as it swallowed, returning its gaze toward the portal. It no longer had the strength to run. The effort alone made its limbs feel distant and uncooperative. There was no energy left to fuel a gateway, no power to tear open an escape before the being standing in its way closed the distance.

So it stood there, breathing shallowly, watching the portal pulse in hypnotizing energy. Trapped by exhaustion as much as by circumstance, it realized the truth it had been avoiding. What was there left to lose this time?

With a hoarse exhale, it crawled, dragging itself inch by inch toward the distortion, leaving a shallow trail in the snow where blackened blood and soot stained the white. Each movement was slow and deliberate, forced through a body weakened by pain and exhaustion rather than will, and a low groan slipped from its throat before continuing.

Occasionally, it paused because its body failed to keep pace with its intent, but its desperation was sharper than the pain. The portal loomed closer with every small advance and its pull grew stronger the nearer it came. It lifted its head once, just enough to confirm it was still there, still open, and that was enough to keep it moving.

It crawled on, leaving a shallow trail with marks that spoke less of escape and more of desperation behind. When it reached the edge and crossed the threshold, the portal reacted with tendrils of shadow brushing its skin, before it snapped back open.

Without warning, it was thrown out violently, hitting the snow hard enough to knock the breath from its lungs. The creature’s claws tore through ice as it skidded across the ground before coming to a stop at Vaeron’s feet and the portal collapsed behind it with a sharp, final crack.

The impact forced what little breath it had left from its lungs in a wet, broken gasp. The creature convulsed, clutching at its chest as if something inside were being reeled back on an invisible chain. Black veins surged once more beneath its skin, from the influence that had taken hold. “Y-Y-YOU L-LIED!” It screamed, its voice breaking under the crushing pressure.

Vaeron watched with a flat expression. Even without the mask, he appeared terrifying, his bare features stripped of any pretense of restraint. He said nothing, allowing the silence to bleed into the forest, to coil tight around its lungs until the weight became unbearable.

“I didn’t,” he said and a pause lingered. A faint, cruel curve of his mouth tugged his mask when he added, “The portal did.”

“Y-YOU-!” The words barely left its mouth before convulsing, clutching at its chest as if something inside were being reeled back on an invisible chain. “Y-Y-You s-said… m-m-my r-re…re…” It struggled to complete the sentence.

“You must be a fool to regard mercy from me,” Vaeron retorted blandly. “And a greater one to believe it was ever freely given,”

Its scream pierced the air as whatever force held it tightened. The forest recoiled from its sound, however made Vaeron seem unrecognizable.

Those pitch-black eyes—once defiant—were wide now with unmistakable fear. Its breathing became hard and labored, “P-P-please… I… I’ve… t-t-told yuh… ev-everything… I kn-know—” It writhed, convulsing faster as an unnatural force seized it. Its body trembled violently, tendrils of shadow crawling across its form like ink spreading in water.

Vaeron’s cold eyes remained fixed on the creature’s striking agony. But no matter how much he inflicted, it didn’t ease the rage inside of him.

For a fleeting moment, the creature before him blurred, replaced by her image. Her delicate features, usually soft and serene, were twisted in pure agony. Eyes that once held innocence recoiled in terror, and lips that once whispered gentle sighs at his desirable sermon now screamed in unbearable pain. The vision struck him like a blow, shattering the fragile restraint he clung to and twisting it into a cold, consuming fury.

He extended a hand. The shadows leapt from him, coiling around the creature, wrapping it in cold, living darkness until it constricted, pulses of dark energy rattling through its bones, forcing it to convulse even more violently.

It happened so fast that even ordinary eyes could barely catch it, and the creature’s body began to crack, fracturing like stone turning to mist.

Agony ripped through its bones, each scream torn raw, half-choked, swallowed almost instantly by the forest. Then, with a final, convulsing shudder, it splintered into smoke-like shadow, writhing for a heartbeat before evaporating entirely into the air.

The forest was silent as snow fell steadily, brushing over the marks where the creature had once struggled. Vaeron stood still, those lifeless eyes fixed on the spot where it once lingered. Something black flickered in those orbs for a fleeting moment, before returning to its original color.

From the treeline, a figure emerged, moving with cautious, deliberate steps. The soft thud of his boots echoed through the silent forest, stirring the air with a strange, unsettling vitality that felt less profoundly wrong. “Took longer than necessary,” he remarked without a trace of amusement.

Vaeron didn’t reply.

For a long moment, silence reigned between them as neither spoke nor moved. The forest around them was still, the only sound the faint crunch of snow under their feet and wind that dared not stir.

Finally, “Any report on Stormhill’s advance?” Vaeron asked, advancing out of the forest, and Lorcan followed his lead.

“Just as predicted,” He responded, and his eyes narrowed in utter focus. Unlike before, there was no blood or soot marred in his features. His armor was clean now, but the chaos in those eyes was brittle, and not completely faded. “They march by tomorrow’s eve,” and he handed him a map.

Vaeron grabbed it. Those eyes swept over the map again, tracing the paths of enemy movement with precise calculation. “Their host will reach Irongate by first light,” he observed. “And the rest?”

“The southern column will strike the gates directly, as expected. The northern flank is slower, but it carries the siege engines and infantry to cut off supply lines,” Lorcan said.

Vaeron’s eyes pressed against the marked sigils of his forces. “Good. And the Black Guards?”

“Ready. They parade with the vanguard, as you ordered. Fully armed, fully prepared,” Lorcan replied, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as his thumb brushed the cold metal when they stopped for a fleeting moment.

“Mm,” Vaeron hummed. “Their discipline will be the edge we need. Corwin takes the western flank, and the rest remain in reserve. We’ll let them march into the trap,” he said, folding the map back in place. “And the arrangements? Supplies, decoys, reinforcements?”

“Everything is in place: decoy wagons to mislead the southern column, and hidden stores along the northern ridge. Every fortress we hold is stocked with every passage known to us,” Lorcan informed as they finally crossed paths away from that side of the forest. “Although, there’s still no word from Greymarch. If they don’t open their gates before dusk, we are ready to force them,”

Vaeron’s eyes darkened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips when he said, “Why don’t we pay Lord Greymarch a visit?”

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