Page 50 of The War of Four Winters

"And when I wasn't enough anymore, you sold me to the elves," I said, pieces falling into place with sickening clarity. "Turned me into bait to catch something more potent."

"You understand!" Michail clapped his hands together, mocking. "I knew there was a reason you were my favorite brother. Yes, elven life force is remarkably... efficient. One elf provides what would take three or four humans." He gestured to Modir. "Show him."

The royal physician's serene smile never wavered as he reached inside his robe. He withdrew a crystal vial filled with dark red liquid. It pulsed with an internal rhythm, like a disembodied heartbeat.

"Pure elven essence," Modir explained, his voice clinical. "Extracted through a specialized process I've developed. The subject typically survives for several extractions before expiring, maximizing yield."

"Subjects," I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue. "People. Living beings."

Modir's expression didn't change. "Resources," he corrected.

I turned back to Michail. "There's no cure," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady as my world continued to fracture around me. "Not magical, not mundane. Not Andrej's blood. Not mine. Not these elves you're butchering. You're just buying time."

"Time is all any of us have," Michail replied. "I'm simply ensuring I have more of it than others." He approached, circling me like a predator. "With your connections to the rebel king, you could deliver us a truly valuable resource. Royal elven blood."

My stomach lurched at his meaning. "Ruith."

"Or Tarathiel." Michail's eye gleamed with hungry anticipation. "Or any of them. Selling you to the elves was strategic, no matter who came to claim you. All that mattered was getting close to them. You served your purpose. But you could still be of more value. Imagine what I could accomplish with royal elven blood. The king of the rebels himself, delivered into my hands."

The room closed in around me. Braziers burned hotter. Incense clogged my lungs and coated my tongue.

"You think I'd help you capture Ruith?" My voice scraped against my throat.

"No." Michail tilted his head. "I think you've been thoroughly corrupted. But that doesn't matter. Your willing participation isn't required."

My fingers found my sword hilt. Familiar metal, cool against my palm. Niro shifted behind me. Steel whispered against leather.

Guards filtered silently into the hall from side entrances, surrounding us.

I stared into Michail's exposed eye, searching for any remnant of the brother I once knew, but nothing remained.

"You won't win this war. Not against the elves, not against the Rot. There's no victory for you here."

"Victory?" Michail laughed. The sound bounced off the stone walls and rattled in my skull. "I passed beyond simple victories when the Rot first appeared. This isn't about winning anymore, little brother." He gestured to his masked face. "This is about survival. At any cost."

His hand moved. A signal.

The first guard came from behind. I spun, drawing my blade. The blade sang as it cut through the air, then met steel with a jarring impact that traveled up my arm.

Niro’s blade sang through the air in two precise strikes, and two guards fell. More rushed forward to fill the gap.

"Take him alive!" Michail shouted. "Kill the elf!"

Modir retreated behind the throne. He withdrew something from his robes. A vial of shimmering blue liquid. He uncorked it. Muttered words crept along my skin like insects.

I parried a blade and kicked a guard back. "Niro! We need to go!"

The general grunted, and we worked in tandem to clear a path. Three more guards fell. A path to the door appeared.

Cold air slammed into my back. My limbs turned to stone. Modir's spell. The blue liquid had evaporated into tendrils of mist that slithered across the floor. Frost formed on stone wherever it touched.

I lunged forward as if trying to escape the mist and two guards moved to intercept me. Instead of engaging them, I dropped, sweeping low beneath their blades. My shoulder hit the brazier's base. It toppled, scattering burning incense and hot coals across the floor.

The carpets caught immediately. Flames raced along intricate patterns, feeding on oil and incense. Smoke billowed upward and the blue mist ignited, flashing in brief, brilliant bursts of azure fire.

Guards shouted in confusion. Smoke stung my eyes, but also concealed us. Modir's concentration broke as he backed away from the spreading flames. Michail shouted orders no one could follow through the chaos.

I launched toward the window and kicked through the stained glass. Cold sea air rushed in. Below, harbor waters churned black and uninviting. This was not the main harbor where Captain Yisra waited, but a narrow channel between keep and outer wall.

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