The Rot in the Rib
932 Words
DARIUS POV
Doors were still smoking. So was my hand when I broke the first man's neck.
He wasn’t a wolf. His throat was too soft. He trembled when I lifted him by the throat and pinned him to the pillar.
“Who opened the north gate?” I said.
He pissed himself. “Ravyn. He paid in silver. Eldritch paid in promises. Both said the girl would fall tonight.”
I broke his neck. Mercy was for men I trusted.
Thorne stepped over the body. His sword dripped.
“Northern scouts are dead, Alpha. All six. Gutted. No tracks.”
He held out a shard. Gray bone. Carved from a staff.
Eldritch.
And in the dead guard’s palm, a brand. Voss’s crest. Melted into the skin.
Insiders.
In my keep.
“Get them out,” I said. “Every man who stood that watch. I want names by midnight, or I’ll carve them out myself.”
The hall emptied in seconds. The stench of blood and ozone lingered. And under it, the roaring.
Silence.
It hit me like a dagger to the skull.
For eight years, the curse has lived in my blood. Voss’s poisoned dagger.
It gnawed at my ribs, made my wolf scream, made my mind rot.
And it made me barren. The blade didn’t just cut flesh. It cut the line.
Since that night, I’d taken women. Vespera. Others before her.
None of them ever quickened.
By now, one of them should have carried my heir. By now, I should have a son screaming in this keep.
But the rot saw to that. They made sure I’d die heirless.
Since the day he cut me, quiet was a myth.
But for three seconds in that hall, when her light flared and hit me—
Nothing.
No voices. No pain. No beast tearing at the inside of my ribs.
I braced both hands on the war table. The wood splintered.
Her power flared in the dirt. I felt it. My wolf went quiet for the first time in years.
Gods.
I wanted to go back. I wanted to stand in that light until the rot choked.
I punched the broken table instead. Pain shot up my arm.
“She is not my cure,” I told the empty room. “I don’t need saving.”
A lie. My wolf knew it. My wolf was already pacing toward the tower.
“Alpha.”
Thorne. He didn’t look at me. No one did when the rot was loud.
“The smith is waiting. You said to reforge the collar.”
She shattered it. In the hall. With that violet fire.
Whatever she was, it didn’t burn me.
Whatever she was, it made the dagger curse recede for a few blessed minutes.
“Make it heavier,” I said. “Crypt iron. Binding runes. If her magic breaks it again, chain her to stone.”
“And the high ridges?”
“Dawn.”
“We test her. In the cold. In the pain. We find out what she is...”
My voice dropped to a snarl.
“...and if she can give me back what they stole.”
Thorne left. The door shut.
Alone, I let my head fall back. The roaring came back. Louder. Furious, I’d tasted calmness and walked away. Withdrawal. From her.
Voss’s daughter. The prisoner. The witch with the violet spark.
The only thing keeping the dagger curse at bay.
The only chance I had of ever siring a child.
I laughed once. It sounded broken.
“If a Silverfang is the only thing keeping me alive, Elara,” I whispered to the dark, “then Voss has won.”
I would not need her.
But until I figured out how to kill what was in my blood,
I would use her.
I walked to the window. The moon hung low. Its silver light poured over the keep. My wolf paced harder. The curse gnawed at my ribs like teeth on bone.
I pressed my palm onto the scar. The pain flared. I welcomed it.
She eased it. Her skin. Her heat. Her light.
I hated that truth more than I hated Voss.
I would chain her tighter. I would break her faster. I would make her body crave me until she forgot her own name.
And when the curse finally died, I would decide if she lived.
The door opened. Thorne stepped in again.
“Vespera is outside. She wants to speak to you. Alone.”
I turned. My hand tightened on the hilt of my dagger.
“Send her in.”
The door closed behind him. I waited. The bond tugged at my chest. Elara was somewhere in the tower. Awake. Watching. Plotting.
Vespera entered. Her green silk clung to her body. Her eyes were sharp.
“My king,” she said. Her voice was soft. “The girl is dangerous. The Council is right. She weakens you.”
“She nearly burned down the Great Hall last night.”
I smiled. It was cold.
“She keeps me alive.”
Vespera stepped closer. Her fingers brushed my arm.
“I can keep you alive too. I always have.”
I caught her wrist. My fingers locked like a trap.
“You are not her.”
She flinched. Her eyes flashed with hurt and rage.
I let her go. “Leave.”
She turned and walked out. The door slammed.
I stood alone again. The curse burned hotter.
Elara.
Her name was a chain around my neck.
I would break her before she broke me.
- Writer
