Page 163 of Soul Forge

Elda was led through a maze of hallways. She was shocked to find a castle even existed inside Darkhold, let alone one that was still intact. The walls were dark, the floors all black granite, and every window looked out onto absolute desolation. There were no roads, no landmarks. Only endless ruin.

They emerged into a throne room grand enough to rival the one Elda had grown up with, though it was dark and menacing. Every surface was reflective black stone or marble, casting images of her fear right back at her. Abraxos led her to an ugly black throne at the far end, forcing her down to her knees and looping her chains through a ring set into the floor. When she was secured beside it like a slave waiting for their master, he stepped back and smiled.

“Try to keep your back straight. My lord hates slouching,” he told her pleasantly. Elda wanted to tell him what she thoughtof his lord, but a door to her left swung open, and a new figure entered the room, flanked by Arden on one side and a pair of rotting soldiers on the other.

He was familiar. Tall and broad shouldered like his brother, but his hair was longer and still dark. The once green eyes were solid black, one of his feathered wings mangled by the scars left behind at the fall of Iliria. The wounds still burned, the remains of his feathers and parts of his skin lit with orange embers that would never die out. He smiled with sharpened teeth and a chill ran through Elda’s blood.

Standing before her was Malakai, the demon lord.

He didn’t speak right away, choosing instead to take a seat on his glass throne. He lounged against the arm and leaned down to look at her, studying her with hungry eyes. He wanted her to crack, to beg him for her life. She wouldn’t.

“A brave one, aren’t you?” he purred eventually. His voice was strange, lilting and soft but laced with a whispering tone as though several people were speaking at once. It wormed its way into her brain, raising goosebumps down the length of her spine. Elda looked away, her eyes falling on Arden. His expression was the same empty, glassy stare she’d noticed on the battlefield, his eyes almost entirely vacant.

“Did you lobotomise him?” she asked.

Malakai laughed, delighted by her bolshy attitude. “How interesting,” he commented. “And here I was, expecting you to be like the other snivelling royals I’ve met in my time. I think I like you, my dear.”

“I wish I could say the same about you. What did you do to Arden?”

“I enlightened him.” Malakai rested his chin on his closed fist. “I believe I should be the one asking the questions, considering your...predicament,” he grinned. “What do you know of the Compulsion?”

“I can’t use it. Didn’t learn it. Don’t want it. You kidnapped the wrong person if you’re looking for answers on how to enslave the Soul Forge.” She clung to false bravado like a comfort blanket, squaring her shoulders and meeting the demon lord’s eye.

“I know how it works,” Malakai replied patiently. “I was interested in whatyouknew. It’s disappointing that you won’t use the Compulsion, you know. You could save your friend a lot more pain.”

Elda’s back stiffened. ”Morepain? What have you done to him?”

“Nothing he can’t handle.” Malakai snapped his fingers, and the doors Elda had been brought through swung open. Cynthia wandered through them, pulling something behind her.Chains. When the Soul Forge stepped into the light, Elda couldn’t stop the strangled sob that escaped her. He was barely recognisable.

His beautiful wings had been sheared off, reduced to bloody stumps at his back. His pale hair was matted and stained red, more blood coating his skin. Everywhere Elda looked, he was wounded. Purposeful cuts littered every inch of his skin, steadily dripping blood as he limped on an obviously broken ankle. Vivid bruises mottled his face, one eye swollen shut, the other unfocused and the red dulled. Elda lurched forwards, yanking painfully against her chains when she saw Sypher’s lips had been sewn shut with coarse thread.

Cynthia dragged him through the throne room and up the steps, kicking his broken ankle to bring him to his knees. Tears spilled down Elda’s cheeks when he didn’t make a single sound, so far gone from reality that he didn’t seem to know where he was.

“Sypher,” she sobbed. “Look at me.” At first, nothing, and then his one good eye rose to look at her face. A spark of recognition, fleeting but definitely there.

“My, Cynthia, you’ve beenbusy,” Malakai commented, looking over his mutilated sibling like he was an amusing joke.

“We had to make up for lost time,” she grinned, brandishing the same dagger she’d stuck into Sypher’s shoulder in Rift. “He’s gotten used to this blade, though. He doesn’t react anymore. Look.” She grabbed his jaw, slicing the blade across his cheek. The Soul Forge didn’t even flinch.

“I do believe you’ve broken him,” Malakai chuckled.

“I’m sure he’ll scream when Lazarus gets a taste of him,” she beamed.

“Don’t you touch him!” Elda blurted, tearing her skin again in her efforts to yank the metal ring out of the floor.

“You have fire, little elf. I like fire.” Malakai leaned down and gripped her chin in his long fingers, pointed nails digging into her cheek. “Now I need something from you. If you comply, you end his pain. I need you to Compel him to unleash the demon soul in its full capacity. Do that, and I won’t let Cynthia hurt him again.”

“I can’t,” Elda told him, trying and failing to get her face out of his hold. Malakai inclined his head, forcing her to watch as Cynthia pulled Lazarus out of his sheath and slid the blade across Sypher’s lacerated bicep. The searing poison drew a faint moan from the Soul Forge, his body trembling as he struggled to stay upright.

“Can you Compel him now?” Malakai asked. Elda shook her head, more tears dripping down her cheeks. Another moan dragged an audible sob from between her clenched teeth. “I can keep at this forever, Flower. We’re immortal.”

“You don’t understand! I can’t Compel him!” She jerked violently away, not caring when Malakai’s nails tore bleeding welts in her bruised cheek. “I swore an oath with my life! If I Compel him, I die.”

“Show me the rune.” Elda lifted her chained wrist, exposing the oath rune on the inside of her forearm. The demon lord tapped his chin thoughtfully. “That does put a kink in my plan,” he murmured. “No matter. We’ll go about this the opposite way.” He motioned for Cynthia to switch places with him, moving to stand beside his brother as the red-haired witch took his throne.

“What are you doing?” Elda asked.

“Striking a bargain.” Malakai bent to look him in the eye, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Sypher, it’s been a while. Rumour has it you still hate me.” The Soul Forge gave no response. “Not playing nice, hmm? You’re not interested in a family reunion?” Again, Sypher was silent. “Fine, I suppose we can skip the pleasantries.” The demon lord snapped his fingers again, and Cynthia put Lazarus to Elda’s throat. Sypher made a noise at last, and Malakai’s smile widened. He slipped a knife from his boot, using it to cut the thread binding Sypher’s lips.

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