11. Interlude 1

Interlude 1

Fifteen years ago

The Shade glides over the ground, his black cloak flowing like dark water toward the Immortal female that holds his mark on her wrist. She's a simple jeweler who made enemies with the wrong people. Powerful people. The House of Steel does not enjoy their powers being shared outside of their house with enchanted items.

This particular Immortal, a hulder, had created jewelry that enhanced the beauty of any female Immortal who wore it, making all of her characteristics slightly more intense. Her eyes would shine just a touch brighter. Her curves would be just a little curvier, and her skin would be slightly softer. Nothing noticeable enough to pinpoint it, but it was like putting on a ring made them stand out the smallest bit more than the average female.

The House of Steel had come for the hulder, but she'd called for the Shade. He'd helped her to hide herself, letting the House of Steel think she was dead. He had saved her life as he had saved so many over the years. Then he'd disappeared, leaving nothing but a mark on her wrist. A shadowed reminder of the debt that she owed.

In a world where death and destruction can come with a glance, where the law of the land is that the strong survive and the weak do as they're told, it's an oddity that anyone can or will help in times of dire need. In fact, it's so unusual that the only person who does so is known throughout the world.

The small shop, hidden in the slums of the Hammer District outside of the House of Earth, is a far cry from the one she'd had in the midst of the House of Flame's Crown Market. The walls of that shop had been covered in gold and marble. Glass shelves had been hand blown by some of the finest House of Flame artisans.

This shop doesn't even have glass shelves. But the hulder female is still alive, and that's what matters. If the Shade hadn't stepped in and hidden her, she wouldn't be.

The stone pathway outside her shop is barely more than gravel with weeds poking through the cracks, sharp thorns on the green stalks waiting for the unwary. Yet, even the weeds seem to hide from the Shade's cloak as he moves to collect a debt.

Today, the hulder may question whether her life was worth the price he'll demand.

When he slides into her shop, the hulder is hunched over a workbench. She's beautiful as all hulders are, but her beauty lies less in her silky hair, soft face, or alluring smile as it would for most others. No, the thing that draws this one's prey is her eyes. "I'll be right there," she says without looking up. Those beautiful eyes are focused on a piece of silver that holds a cheap sapphire in its tines. The Shade turns around and locks the door before walking toward the hulder.

"It's time to pay your debt," he breathes. There's no need to growl or be impatient. No one forgets his voice any more than they forget the debt that decorates their wrist.

The hulder looks up at him, her long black hair framing her face in a way that only a hulder's can. Hulders are Immortals that typically feed on humans, using their attractive features and alluring voices to call them to her. All hulders are beautiful, but Amara is stern and sharp by their standards. Unlike so many of her kindred, she isn't so interested in the humans she typically feeds upon. Her fellow hulders make a sport of it while Amara's focus has always been her craft, feeding only when her hunger becomes too great to do her work to her exacting standards.

And today would be the last day she would ever make a piece of jewelry.

"What do you need?" she asks slowly, her tongue flicking out and tasting the air. It's a hulder's instinct to manipulate others. Her fox tail flicks behind her, trying to draw the Shade's attention away from her eyes as her pheromones slowly permeate the room.

It's her only weapon against him, and he's not interested. "I require a piece of jewelry. A ring, to be specific. And I require you to make it."

Amara breathes a sigh of relief. She's not afraid to make a piece of jewelry. She's one of the greatest enchanters in Draenyth, and truthfully, she'd be honored to make someone as powerful as the Shade a piece of jewelry.

"I'm listening," she says, no longer worried.

"I want this ring to enhance a person's passion. It needs to push them forward, no matter the costs. I want your passion. A hulder who cares less for her food than for the jewelry she creates. Single-minded devotion to her work no one else I've met has held."

The color drains from Amara's face. Everything has a cost, especially enchanting.

"You want me to sacrifice my passion ?" she asks. "But that's… everything. It's who I am. I'm nothing without it."

"You're alive," the Shade responds, as cold as can be. "You can find something else."

She shakes her head, her whole body quivering. He's asking something that she never imagined he would ask. That's what a true debt is worth, isn't it? He gave her life for many years. Now he's asking for something only she can give, and something she would never willingly give up for any amount of gold or riches.

It's cold. Heartless. Absolutely terrible. But it is fair, and that's the only thing that the Shade cares about. Balance. The one thing that the world has missed for the last fifteen years. Ever since the Houses were broken. Ever since he became an outlaw.

"I call in the debt," the Shade says, and magic flows through the air.

The mark on Amara's arm glows red hot, and she stares at it. All she has to do to make it stop is decide to do as she is commanded. A simple decision, and the pain will end.

She just keeps shaking her head. The Shade doesn't interrupt. It's her decision. Comply with his request or die. It isn't his place to change the outcome of this. He can't weigh in or try to convince her.

The mark grows, slowly consuming her arm. Her skin turns a sickening black. Liquid drips as the mark expands, turning her entire arm red and then black. What was once her skin and is now ash floats into the air. The scent of burned flesh replaces the smell of dust and metal filings, and still, both the Shade and Amara watch as she is slowly consumed by the mark.

Finally, as the flames reach her shoulder, she screams. All she has to do to stop it is to decide to make the ring. It would end immediately.

But to some, there are things more valuable than their lives. This is not the first time someone has chosen death instead of paying their debt.

Everything around Amara becomes dark and smoky. As the red-hot flame moves to her torso, it shifts and flows around her heart, flowing up her neck and limbs simultaneously, while leaving her heart untouched.

As her screams die in a smokey haze, the Shade steps forward and touches the unburnt section of her chest. Pure power flows from it to him.

There is a reason that the Shade has been hunted for fifteen years by two entire Great Houses and hasn't been caught. It's how he's known throughout all of Nyth, yet no one knows anything about him. It's how he can hear the whispers of his name a half-country away by a singular human who has learned the power of names.

There is only one person who has more power than the Shade: the King of the Immortals. The one who wears the Painted Crown. That man will only wear it for another fifteen years, and then there will be a chance to change things. A chance to bring balance back to the world.

But only if all the cards fall in just the right order.

The Shade has taken Amara's power, but he would rather have had that ring. It would be another tool to manipulate the world. If he can't align everything in the next fifteen years, it'll be too late.

And that will be the end of Nyth as he knows it.