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The Zyrrith had driven its stinger deep into the man’s side, and his body seized instantly, locking rigid as the venom flooded him. His scream died in his throat, strangled into silence as he collapsed, eyes wide, trapped inside his own unmoving body.

Alive and helpless.

In a blink of an eye, that grotesque mouth stretched wider still before it sank into his flesh. Feeding.

Solas shoved his sword through the creature’s side, a spray of gore raining down on the male bleeding out. Half his torso had been torn through, blood gurgled from his mouth, Solas raised his sword, slicing it through the male’s skull in one fluid movement, putting the poor bastard out of his misery.

Another death. Another I could not save from the monsters created in my image.

I succumbed to the monster beneath my skin, letting it rise to the surface. The world became nothing but movement and violence.

I ripped them apart, one after another. Steel and shadow carving through bone as they felt my pain. My retribution. The streets ran slick with their blood and their buzzing turned to broken silence.

Caelum and Solas cut through the rest beside me, leaving nothing standing.

The last beast hit the ground, and the oppressive buzzing finally died. An eerie quiet washed over the village. Only our ragged breathing and the soft whimpering of the injured dared to break it.

I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow. This was always the hardest part. To stop killing. To sate the unhinged need to spill blood and split flesh, beyond those who deserved it.

One. I began to recite the countdown I had used since I left the Mourning Woods a century ago. I can step away from the darkness.

Two. I am Rythos Draven.

Three. I am more than the monster within me.

Slowly, the darkness eased and shadows sunk back into me with a cooling sensation that stung as if it were trying to tear me apart for shoving it back into its cage.

“The Commander of Death,” a woman gasped, emerging from one of the cottages lining the cobblestone street. More followed—wide-eyed Fae spilling from doorways, their fear melting into something dangerously close to relief as they took in the ruined bodies of their attackers.

Cheers broke out. Clapping. Raised fists in triumph.

I stilled.

This is the part I hated most. The way they looked at me as if I were not a monstrosity, but a saviour. If only they knew I were cut from the same mutated cloth as the monsters who slaughtered them.

“The rules this war has been played by are over,” my voice boomed with authority. “Nowhere is safe.”

They quietened, gathering around us with something dangerously close to worship shining in their eyes. “If you want to survive, travel to Obsidian Castle and take refuge within its walls.”

I looked to Solas and Caelum, nodding at them wordlessly. We sheathed our weapons and began dragging the dead towards the town square.

I was a creature bent to the will of destruction, but the sentiment of a respectful funeral was important to me. A death was a death. Each of these people meant something to someone. And without proper care, a soul killed by a monster became trapped in their rotting corpse for eternity.

Aldric dragged dead bodies without complaint, determination etched into the sharp lines of his face.

I was not sure how much time had passed. Too much, considering where I needed to be. Who I needed to save.

You do not save her. The Fire Fates’ words reverberated through my mind, and I ground my teeth as I pulled the last corpse into the square.

One hundred souls. Slaughtered for a curse that they wanted no part in. I knelt next to the pyre we had built, flicking a lit match at the bodies. They caught with the aid of Caelum’s magic pressing against it, urging them to burn.

The first notes that passed my lips were deep and haunting, a song in a language that was no longer. It scraped its way into the world from my chest like something dragged from a grave.

Silence fell amongst the villagers, gathering around us in a circle. Joining hands. Enduring their grief together.

The flames crackled, burning flesh filling the ozone with a sharp, unnatural tang.

My voice weaved through the ancient, broken ballad. It coiled through the air, slipping between the living and the dead, threading through smoke and ash until it found what it had always been meant for.