CHAPTER TWENTY The Negotiation
361 Words
They do not bow when they enter the clearing.
That is how I know they are not afraid.
Three of them step forward from the treeline, shapes pulled tight around something that doesn’t fit properly inside skin. They wear faces like masks—too smooth, too symmetrical—as if copied from memory rather than grown. Their feet never quite touch the ground.
Astridr flanks me, close but not touching. The line we drew still holds.
“We come in accordance with the old laws,” the middle one says. Its voice is layered, several tones speaking at once. “We request parley with the keeper.”
Not my name.
My function.
“I didn’t request you,” I reply. My throat mark burns, steady and watchful. “Speak anyway.”
The thing smiles. “You are tired.”
The word lands like a blade sliding between ribs.
Images press at the edges of my mind—sleep without pain, silence without vigilance, a world where the cracks are no longer my responsibility.
Astridr growls softly. A warning.
“We propose a balance,” the envoy continues.
“Release one boundary. Just one. We will retreat from the others. No more pressure. No more suffering.”
“And when you want more?” I ask.
“When you are weaker,” it answers honestly.
Rage flares—hot, clean. “You don’t negotiate in good faith.”
“No,” it agrees. “We negotiate in inevitability.”
I step forward before Astridr can stop me. The ground hums under my feet, recognising the choice even before I finish making it.
“There will be no release,” I say. “No bargains. No sharing.”
The envoy tilts its head. Curious. Almost pleased.
“Then we will wait,” it says. “And we will teach the world how to pull you apart.”
They fade back into the forest, leaving the air colder, heavier.
Astridr exhales slowly. “That was a declaration of war.”
I nod, my hands shaking now that it’s over.
And somewhere deep beneath the land, something answers—
Not with words.
But with patience.
- Writer
