‘There, Master,’ Greenhair said, pointing to the palanquin. ‘The tome is there.’ Her glance flitted towards Dreadaeleon for a moment. ‘It will be safer with you.’

Sheraptus, however, merely stared at her, as unexpressive as a man with flaming eyes could be, before he looked over her to Xhai.

‘Where is it?’ he asked the Carnassial.

She shot him back a look, as wounded as a woman with spike-encrusted shoes could. ‘The Grey One That Grins only wants the tome. The other things are-’

‘I would very much like to have it … them,’ Sheraptus said. ‘It would make me very happy.’ He pursed his lips, furrowed his brows; beneath the fire, he looked almost hurt. ‘Xhai … do you not want me to be happy?’

She recoiled, as if struck. An emotion, close to but not quite the fury that was present earlier, shook her features. After a moment, her face settled into one of cold acknowledgement. She turned her head away and barked a command.

‘ TCHIK QAI!’

There was a scrabble of boots, a few muffled curses from behind a massive, jutting ribcage half-buried nearby. Lenk’s ears immediately pricked up, his attention drawn towards the movement, his heart beating faster at the noise. The reaction did not go unnoticed.

‘ Ignore that,’ a cold voice snarled.

‘ The enemy is before you,’ a hot voice growled.

‘ Duty first. Betrayers die.’

‘ They will all die. They all betrayed you. Forget everything else.’

‘ Kill.’

‘ Listen.’

He did not hear them, felt them as nothing but flashes of hot and cold in his body. His eyes were locked upon the twitches of movement between the bones. He spotted glimpses of purple, but did not pay attention them. Before them, glimpses of colour, white and silver under the moonlight, moved swiftly, but erratically.

The movement stopped momentarily. There was another shout of protest, this one louder but not clear enough to be heard well. It was met with a snarling iron retort and a faint cracking sound. Lenk found himself surprised that he was wincing at the unseen blow, found himself surprised that he was leaning forward, craning his neck to see what emerged from behind the bones.

And despite the fear that had been growing in his chest since he had awoken, he found himself surprised to see a pair of emerald eyes, wide, terrified and searching.

He tried to cry out, tried to scream when he found he couldn’t. His throat was constricting, voice choked.

‘ No,’ another voice answered his unspoken question, ‘ speak not. Draw no attention. Not yet. He does not need you, does not want you. Survive first. Kill later.’

She looks hurt. She needs help. I need to-

‘ Soon. Tome first. Duty first.’

No! Not duty first, she’s more important. She-

‘ Fled. From you.’

What?

‘ Fear was in her eyes. She was right to show us.’

No, she-

‘ Does not understand.’

‘ Cannot understand.’

‘ Your duty … our duty … more important. She cannot see that. Looks away from it.’

She isn’t looking away now.

No response came; he wouldn’t have heard it, anyway. His eyes were locked on Kataria’s, and hers on his, as she was marched forward by ironbound hand and guttural snarls from purple lips. She put up minimal resistance to such, not that her bound hands would allow her much, in any case. Still, Lenk found himself surprised by her passiveness as she was ushered towards the knot of netherlings; he had expected her to be snarling, thrashing, biting and cursing.

To see that anticipated furious resistance emerge from the pale form emerging behind Kataria, however, was slightly more surprising.

‘And after I’ve chewed thoseoff, because I’m sure you things only claimto be females,’ Asper snarled at the netherling shoving her forward, ‘I’m going to rip your eyes out and eat those, too!’ She dug her heels in, shoved back at her captor, tried to break away. All futile efforts, their failures doing nothing to curb her tongue. ‘Get back, you slavering, sloppy little cu-’

‘I know maybe three of those words,’ the netherling snarled back, raising an iron fist. ‘And I don’t know what to sayto make you shut up, but I do know what to hit you with.’

‘ No.’

Bones shook in skin, sea retreated from shore, all eyes looked up and instantly regretted doing so. Sheraptus’ eyes were narrowed to fiery slits as they swept up to the netherling holding the priestess. Like a flower before fire, the females’ resolve withered, hands trembled, gaze turned towards the sand.

Asper’s did not, however. And from the sudden widening of her eyes, the slackness of her jaw, the very visible collective clench of every muscle in her body, it wasn’t clear if she even could. Nothing had seemed to leave her, least of all her fight. Rather, it was apparent that the moment she had met his eyes, something had instead entered her and had no plans of leaving.

And, judging by his broad smile, it was more apparent to no one than Sheraptus.

‘This is it,’ he whispered, stalking closer to her. ‘This is what I came to see, what I continue to see. This … utter rejection of the world.’ He lifted a long purple hand to her, grinned as she flinched away from it. ‘ That. What is that? Why do you do such a thing? You know you can’t flee, know you can’t escape, but you still try. Instinct dictatesthat you sit there and accept it, yet you refuse to. Why?’ He glanced up towards the sky. ‘I had once thought it was your notion of gods, with how often you pray to them, but I see nothing up there.’

His voice shifted to something low, something breathy and born out of his heart. Yet as soft as it went, it remained sharp and painful so that none could help but hear him. His eyes drifted from Asper’s horrified stare, searching over her half-nude body. Slowly, his hand rose to follow, palm resting upon her belly, fingers drumming thoughtfully on her skin.

Her choked gasp, too, could not be ignored.

‘It’s not gods, though, is it?’ His hand slid across her abdomen, as if beckoning something to rise from the prickling gooseflesh and reveal it to him. ‘No, no … something more. Or less?’ His smile trembled at the edges, trying and failing to contain something. ‘I just … can’t tell with your breed.’ His gaze returned to hers, a lurid emotion burning brighter than the fire consuming them. ‘But I dearly look forward to finding out.’

He turned away from her, his stare settling on Kataria for a moment, white brows furrowing. ‘And this one … doesn’t even put up a fight?’ He gave her a cursory glance, then shrugged. ‘I like the ears, anyway. Load them up.’

‘W-what?’ Asper gasped. Vigour returned to her as she was forced towards the black vessel, and she struggled against her captor’s grip. ‘No! NO!’ At that moment, she seemed to notice the others, bound on the sand. ‘Don’t let him do this to me. He’s going to … to …’ Tears began forming in her eyes. ‘Help me … help me, D-’

A rough cloth was wrapped about her mouth, tied tightly as she was hoisted up and over the netherling’s purple shoulder and spirited to the boat.

‘ Asper!’ Dreadaeleon cried out. ‘I can help you … I … I can.’ He gritted his teeth as crimson sparked behind his eyes, the magic straining to loose itself. ‘It’s just … it’s …’

‘Intimidating, isn’t it?’ Sheraptus shot a fire-eyed wink at the boy. ‘I felt the same way when I first beheld it … well, sans the pitiful weakness, anyway.’ He ran a finger along the crown upon his brow, circling its three burning jewels. ‘One can’t help but behold it, like a candle that never snuffs out.’ He considered the boy carefully for a moment. ‘Which, I suppose, would make you a tiny, insignificant moth.’