Chapter 35 Wine
Warden Voss
“Yes,” Arclight replied after a moment. “I was
informed.”
He lifted the glass, took a slow sip, and licked his lips, all while keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“There is no need to search Spark,” he continued calmly. “A girl with such coloring would be… conspicuous. I do not permit conspicuous things to wander freely.”
His fingers tapped once against the stem of his glass.
“Unlike other districts,” he added, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement, “I maintain order.”
“You maintain fear,” I corrected softly.
A flicker of something passed through his eyes — not anger, not quite—but interest.
“Fear,” he said, tasting the word, “is simply a more efficient form of order.”
He took a slow sip of his wine again, his throat moving smoothly as he swallowed.
“You may conduct one sweep,” he said at last. “One. My patience does not extend beyond generosity.”
“That is all I require.”
His gaze lingered on me.
“I do wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “whether your visit is truly about a missing girl.”
The chandelier above us crackled faintly as wax dripped from candle to metal.
“Do you remember Helena Valen?” I asked.
The change was subtle but unmistakable.
His posture did not shift, but the air around him tightened.
“Of course I remember her,” he said. “She was the only woman of our generation who ever outshone me.”
There was no fondness in his voice. No nostalgia. Only calculation.
“She is dead,” he continued, swirling the wine in his glass. “And I remain.”
The statement was simple. Final.
It was not grief that colored his tone.
It was victory.
“Do you know anything about her children?” I asked carefully.
Arclight’s lips curved slightly.
“Do you truly believe Helena would ever have allowed her children within my reach?” he replied. “She despised me. Quite publicly, I might add.” His gaze lowered to the surface of his wine. “Wise of her.”
The words were almost reflective.
Almost.
I set my goblet untouched upon the table.
“Thank you for your time, Prefect. I will not disturb you further.”
I began to rise.
“Finish your wine.”
The words were spoken lightly. Yet they halted me instantly.
“I must keep a clear head,” I replied evenly. “The night is long.”
Arclight stood as well.
The movement was unhurried, but the shift in the room was immediate. He closed the distance between us in three measured steps. Up close, I could see how perfectly controlled he kept himself—no excess movement, no wasted breath.
“I said,” he repeated softly, “finish your wine.”
There was no raised voice. No visible threat.
Which made it far more dangerous.
“That bottle,” he continued, glancing toward the table, “traveled across three borders. I paid handsomely for it. Men died ensuring it reached Spark intact.”
His caramel eyes returned to mine.
“You will not insult me by leaving it unfinished.”
The air between us felt thin.
I held his gaze for a long moment, measuring.
Then I reached for the goblet.
The wine was heavier than I expected. Darker on the tongue. It carried a sweetness that lingered at the back of the throat like velvet.
I drank it all. Quickly.
When the glass was empty, I lowered it to the table.
“Thank you, Prefect.”
His expression softened into something disturbingly pleased.
“That,” he said quietly, “is how cooperation should look.”
His hand lifted slightly, and I noticed the faint scars across his knuckles, all from hurting women and children.
“If I happen to find the girl you seek,” he continued, his tone almost conversational again, “I will expect further demonstrations of goodwill.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor where the children had been taken.
“More little boys,” he said. Then, after a pause, “and girls.”
The casual way he added the last word carried no hunger, no lust—only ownership. As though he were discussing livestock.
I inclined my head once.
“Bring me the girl unharmed," I said. "And you will be compensated accordingly.”
His smile widened faintly.
“I always am.”
I did not wait for dismissal.
I touched the orb at my collarbone.
The palace dissolved into streaks of gold and white.
My tower reformed around me in cool darkness.
The fire had burned lower. The night beyond the windows had deepened.
I stood still for a moment, steadying myself.
The wine lingered faintly in my blood, but my thoughts remained clear.
Lucien Arclight believed himself untouchable. He believed fear was permanence.
One day, he would learn the difference between control and inevitability.
And when that day came, I would not require wine to make him kneel.
\-----
Magnus
Maps covered nearly every inch of my desk. Sheets of ancient parchment overlapped one another in uneven layers, their edges brittle and curling from age. Some had darkened with time to a deep yellow-brown, while others were so worn that the surface thinned near the creases. Ink that had once been bold now appeared faded and uneven, the lines of rivers and mountain ranges barely visible under candlelight.
I had been studying them for hours.
I was searching for the Lost Kingdom of Celestia, the homeland of the Emberborn. According to the oldest records, it had stood apart from other kingdoms, isolated by water, terrain and protected by its own formidable craftsmanship. It was there that Waldo Wycliff, the most renowned blacksmith of the Emberborn, had forged the dragonclaw blade.
If the dragon was truly awake, then I needed that sword.
It was the only weapon ever recorded to pierce dragon scale. Not merely wound or irritate, but penetrate. Wycliff had forged it using an actual dragonclaw, shaping the material into a blade dense enough to withstand heat and strong enough to cut through scale that no ordinary steel could breach.
If I possessed that sword, I would not need to match the dragon’s strength. I would only need the opportunity to use it.
Power did not depend on physical force alone. It depended on leverage.
I unrolled another map carefully, pressing its corners flat against the desk. This one depicted territories from before the Collapse, when borders had been broader and kingdoms more numerous. I examined the mountain ranges, traced the coastlines, compared the markings to three other maps already open beside it.
There was still nothing.
Even the oldest cartographers whose works survived made no clear reference to Celestia’s precise location. Some mentioned trade routes. Others referred to “the high kingdom beyond the eastern ridges.” But no coordinates, no fixed boundaries, no definitive placement.
Erasing a kingdom from record was not as difficult as people believed. Burn enough archives, silence enough witnesses, and history narrowed into rumor.
A sudden flutter of wings cut through the quiet of the chamber.
I looked up immediately.
A raven burst through the open window, its wings beating hard against the air before it landed directly on my desk. The force of its arrival scattered several maps onto the floor.
I had not been expecting correspondence. Not at this hour.
The bird stilled, claws gripping the wood, its black eyes fixed on me.
I removed the small piece of parchment from the capsule on its leg.
It was from Ryven.
My jaw tightened as I read.
Another team of Enforcers gone. Wolves this time.
And the girl, still nowhere to be found.
I crushed the parchment in my fist.
“Damn you, Ryven,” I muttered.
I pulled a fresh sheet toward me and dipped my quill in ink.
The words came easily.
Find the girl or I’ll take yours.
I sealed the message inside the capsule and secured it to the raven’s leg.
It launched into the night without hesitation.
With a small movement of my hand, the scattered maps lifted from the floor. The parchment sheets rolled themselves tightly and aligned in an orderly stack before floating across the room into the wooden chest where I stored archival materials. The lid closed softly once they were inside.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the empty surface of my desk.
The dragon.
The girl.
The sword.
Three elements of the same conflict.
If I secured the girl, I could control the dragon.
If I found the blade, controlling the dragon would be far easier.
And if I controlled the dragon, I controlled the outcome.
I extinguished the candle beside me. Time for sleep.
There was much to do tomorrow.