Krak slinked across the dark, dank chamber, stepping so lightly he made nary a sound. Still, something in the silence felt loud, like the memory of thunder echoing long after the storm.
He stopped beside the captured Thronewarden, and a dry wet grin creeped across his face. The effect of separating the two had already begun to show—delight twisted in Krak’s chest as he watched the prisoner twitch and mumble.
"Send in the Ridgerunnersss," he ordered. "They must explain why you have failed to capture the Jewelsss."
At the mention of the others, Peet tensed. His body jerked. Somewhere deep beneath the madness, Artham clawed his way upward, rising from the chaos of his mind in a sudden rush of worry for his charges yet free.
The Ridgerunners scurried in like vermin, Zouzab bowing, scraping, and groveling with theatrical politeness. Krak regarded them with hooded eyes and posed the same question he had priorly asked.
Zouzab, the horrid creature, spoke first. His comrade stood frozen, pale, and mute with terror.
Zouzab’s voice was soft and silken, the kind used to save one’s own skin—regardless of whose blood might be spilled instead.
“I told the Fangs to search the forest, your gloriousness, but they refused! I alone ventured in and found the Jewel’s hiding place. I returned and told them where—but they were frightened. Frightened of the puny Glipwood creatures! They wouldn’t listen to me. Otherwise, they would have caught them all!”
Krak snorted—one, sharp sound. Not amused.
“Get out. I may have use for you, Zouzab, yet.”
He turned, slowly, to the silent Ridgerunner.
“As for you, ussselesss one…” he grinned, fangs just peeking past his lip, “stay. I’ll want to deal with you next.”
The Ridgerunner trembled. He tried to speak—words stuttered, crumbled—but then a Fang slithered close and hissed in his long ear. Whatever protest he’d had dissolved. He dropped to the cold stone, shuddering.
Krak turned to Peet. Or rather, to Artham.
"Where are they headed, Wingfeather?” he asked, savoring the question. “You don’t have to tell me. Go on—pretend you don’t know.” He drew out each word, as if tasting it. “I already do.”
Artham flinched. His brow furrowed. For the first time, Krak saw true fear rise like frost in his eyes.
“The Ice Prairies,” Krak whispered from behind. “No longer Fang-free.”
Then he chuckled in his ear. Low, guttural, the sound of something dangerous waking beneath ice.
Peet shrieked—high and broken—then thrashed against his chains, all madness and fury and helpless love.
Krak waved a hand.
Dismissed.
As he swept past the remaining Ridgerunner, Krak struck like a serpent—his arm snapping out, claws wrapping around the creature’s neck.
“Put him on the next sship,” he hissed. “I want them ssseparate.”
He left the room, each step impossibly silent.
And yet, the soundless weight of his tread made every prisoner shudder.
For though his steps made no noise, they felt loud—so loud that the mind had to invent the sound to stay sane. Or else go mad.
@Batwhacker the Freedom Fighter ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ @Lili Shakespeare (FF and FAR)
Hope you enjoy this too short chapter... I haven't been posting regularly for no reason, so I should start doing it more often!!! I tried to make this as unsettling as possible with word choices, grammar, and whatnot. We are really getting into the angsty part, which will last for awhile I'm afraid. I will try my best to sprinkle fluff and sugar in occasionally!!!
Last chapter:
**outraged screaming*