Page 33 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"Because the truth is too terrible to accept," Sayven interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than his earlier shouts. "Because admitting we've been feeding our children to monsters for centuries would destroy what little hope we have left. Better to call us martyrs than acknowledge we're victims."
The chains rattled as something moved in the darkness, and I caught a glimpse of what might have been an arm—too long, too thin, with fingers that ended in points rather than nails.
"Your shadow prince fights so hard to keep you because he knows," the voice continued, closer now, as if he had moved toward the door. "Deep in his bones, he understands that when the darkness finally claims him, there will be nothing left worth saving. You're his anchor to humanity, but he will pull you down with him…”
"Stop," I whispered, but I couldn't pull away from the viewing slot.
"I can smell him on you," Sayven continued, his voice dropping to a purr. "His scent, his claim. But underneath that, I smell something else. Something that makes my mouth water. You're not just his mate, are you? You belong to others. Dragons, if I'm not mistaken. How fascinating."
Ice flooded my veins. "How could you possibly—"
"Because I can taste their marks through the stone, sweet thing. Dragon fire leaves such a distinctive flavour on the soul.”
My blood turned to ice. The marks on my throat and collarbone—the ones I kept hidden beneath layers of beads and jewellery—suddenly felt like they were burning against my skin. How could this thing, this corrupted shadow of what Taveth might become, possibly know about Sirrax and Tarshi?
"Impossible," I breathed, but even as I spoke, I felt the truth of his words settling into my bones like poison.
"Oh, but it is very possible, little flame." I could hear the smile in his voice, predatory and knowing. "The shadows tell me everything. They whisper of your dragon lovers, of the bonds that still tie your soul to theirs despite your shadow prince's best efforts to sever them. They're here, you know. In the cells below. Came looking for their lost mate."
My heart stopped beating entirely. "You're lying."
"Am I? Tell me, sweet thing, have you felt empty these past weeks? Like something vital has been torn away? That's not distance weakening your bonds—that's your precious prince trying to cut you off from them entirely. But dragon bonds are older than shadow magic, burn deeper than darkness can reach. Deeper than his pretty lies. They endure."
The corridor seemed to spin around me as his words sank in. The emptiness I'd felt, the aching void where my connection to Sirrax and Tarshi used to burn bright and warm—it wasn'tbecause they were dead or too far away. It was because Taveth had been actively working to sever them.
The revelation hit me like a physical blow, and I stumbled backward from the viewing slot, my legs suddenly unable to support my weight. The stone wall caught me as I sagged against it, my mind reeling with the implications of what Sayven had just revealed.
"No," I whispered, but even as I spoke the denial, pieces began falling into place with sickening clarity. The way Taveth's shadows had writhed with particular violence whenever I mentioned my other mates. The careful way he'd avoided direct questions about whether the bonds could be severed. The strange emptiness I'd felt growing stronger each day, like something vital was being slowly drained from my soul.
"My lady, please," Patir begged, pulling at my arm. "We need to leave. Now. Before—"
"He's been lying to you," Sayven continued, his voice following me down the corridor like smoke. "About the bonds, about your mates, about what he truly is. The shadows haven't chosen him as their vessel, sweet thing—they've already consumed him. What you've been kissing, what you've been letting between your thighs, that's not a man anymore. That's a puppet made of meat and darkness."
"Stop," I whispered, pressing my hands against my ears, but his words wormed their way through anyway.
From the darkness ahead came the sound of laughter, rich and warm and completely insane. "Oh, this is delicious. Love blooming in the shadow of madness. Tell me, sweet child, will you still claim to love him when he's carving pretty patterns in your skin? Will you whisper endearments when he's feeding your screams to the hungry dark?"
"We're leaving," Patir said firmly, pulling me back the way we had come. "Right now."
This time I let him drag me away, my mind too consumed by Sayven’s words to resist, though the maniacal laughter followed us until we reached the higher levels. By the time we reached the upper levels, my hands were shaking so violently I could barely hold them steady. The stone walls around us felt like they were pressing closer with each step, and I couldn't shake the feeling that shadows were reaching for me from every corner.
Each step away from Sayven's cell should have brought relief, but instead his words echoed in my mind with the weight of terrible truth.
They're here. In the cells below.
Could it really be possible? Could Marcus and the others have tracked me all the way to this hidden mountain city? My heart hammered against my ribs at the thought, hope and terror warring in my chest. If they were truly here, if they had somehow found me against all odds, then everything changed. But if Taveth discovered them...
I remembered his words in the garden, the cold promise in his voice: I would hate to see you cry when I tore them apart.
"My lady," Patir said quietly as we reached a more familiar corridor. "What that thing said down there—about your other mates being here—you can't trust anything that comes from the deep cells. The madness makes them say terrible things, cruel things designed to hurt you."
I wanted to believe him, wanted to dismiss Sayven's words as the ravings of a broken mind. But the certainty in that cultured voice, the specific details he'd known about dragon bonds and mating marks... How could a madman locked away in the depths know such things unless they were true?
“What happened to him?"
"Sayven was a good man once," Patir said, his voice barely audible. "Honourable, just, everything a shadow mage should be. He was so strong with the power that he lasted many yearsbefore the madness claimed him. But when it finally happened, it wasn't gradual like the others. It happened all at once."
“It wasn’t gradual?”
