The sun was rising behind the tattered garrison walls, casting long shadows over the aftermath of battle. Blood mingled with dust, weapons lay abandoned, and the cries of the wounded had faded to silence. In the center of the ruined outpost, Selena stood over the northern captain, his arms bound tightly behind him with enchanted rope Kael had conjured. His lip was bloodied, one eye swollen shut, but his pride… remained intact.
Selena crouched before him, her voice cold and commanding. "You're going to tell me everything. Who are your people, and why are you taking the shadowkins?"
The captain laughed bitterly, spitting blood to the side. "You really want to know?" He looked up at her with eyes that held no remorse—only fire. "Fine. You've earned the tale."
He shifted, sitting straighter despite his wounds. "We've lived on our island—north of these cursed lands—for thousands of years. Peaceful. Hidden. No enemies, no monsters, no magic. Just men. Curious men. And as with all things, curiosity grew. We built ships, explored the oceans. Found an island to the east—beautiful but deadly. Creatures of flame and fang. Magic pulsing through the very soil. We called it the Beast Isle. We lost many good men there."
Selena didn't flinch. She listened, her hands resting on her thighs, ready for anything.
"So we turned our eyes south," he continued, his voice taking on a proud edge. "That's when we found them. The gray-skins. The shadowkin. Living quiet lives with their strange magic. No monsters, no resistance. They wouldn't teach us their secrets. Wouldn't share their power. And when we tried to take what we needed—oh, they defended themselves, but they never struck first. Pathetic, really."
Luther's jaw clenched nearby. Arya and Kael exchanged silent glances.
The captain leaned forward. "It took a man named Billmar to show us the way. He captured one. A living shadowkin. He skinned him alive." He grinned wickedly. "Said their magic clings to their skin like a second soul. If they die, the magic dies with them. But if you peel it away while they still breathe—" He mimicked tearing something with his fingers, "—you get armor that resists their magic. Turned the tide."
"You're monsters," Selena whispered, disgust twisting her voice.
"No," the captain said, pride gleaming in his gaze. "We're survivors. We're visionaries. We don't want your war or your people. We want their gift. And if they won't give it… we'll take it."
Kael's knuckles turned white. Stormclaw growled, low and dangerous.
Selena stood. Her hands trembled, not with fear, but with fury. The others closed in, the silence between them humming with the weight of choices yet to be made.
"You'll never touch another shadowkin again," she said quietly.
The captain's lips twitched. "You think this ends with me?" He shifted suddenly, yanking a hidden blade from beneath his coat—one last desperate act. "Then die with your dreams, witch!"
The blade arced upward toward Selena's chest—but stopped.
Luther's sword plunged through the captain's back, bursting through his sternum. The dagger clattered to the ground, and the captain gasped.
"No more," Luther said, voice quiet but resolute. "You don't get to speak again."
The captain collapsed forward, lifeless, the last of his breath slipping into the blood-soaked earth.
Silence fell once more—thick and reverent.
Selena stared at the body, then at Luther. "Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded once. "He was never going to stop."
Arya stepped closer, placing a hand on Selena's shoulder. "Now we know what we're up against."
Kael looked down at the corpse, then to the rising sun beyond the garrison walls. "And we know what we have to do next."
Together, the group turned away, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on their shoulders—but their resolve stronger than ever.