Chương 170: Five Coffins

Mirabelle sat atop her swept perch of rubble, watching the distant ring of reinforcements tighten around the center with mechanical precision. She had no idea where this sudden diligence had come from, considering the scum in the cult's employ. One of her kinsmen — Torv, one of her eldest, pale-haired and steady — landed beside her without a sound, folding his massive frame low. It was sometimes unbelievable to her that he was still capable of getting bigger when he transformed.

His voice cut through her numbed thoughts like butter: "Matriarch." He never called her queen anymore; neither of them could stomach the word.

"A Dreamer's broken through the eastern line. Alone."

"One?" Mirabelle's lip curled.

"Send Donovan's pack. Kill him before he reaches the ring, like the rest." The pale-haired man hesitated — a rare thing for him.

"There is hearsay that this Dreamer… is a Flesh-Shaper." Mirabelle's face scrunched with loathing disgust. Of course it was.

"I thought IT wasn't here!? I thought THAT THING evacuated with the Harths!?" Before she could continue, a pristine milky orb at her hip chimed, and the mage's voice slid out of it like oil finding a crack.

"Oh, don't you dare send your dogs after him and call it done. It's not that old coot playing butler with those Harths! This one — he's special…" Her voice was filled with lust when talking about this Flesh-Shaper.

"He's one man, a young one. Just prime for the picking!" Mirabelle didn't bother hiding her contempt.

"One man who has already gone through hundreds and is still standing!"

"Quite the sight, isn't it!?" The mage's tone brightened, delighted, like she was describing a favorite pastime. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"We've had our eye on him since his little tussle with Oni. A Dreamer who traded blows with a Noble-rank and lived to complain about it? That's not something you throw meat at and call solved." Mirabelle's claws dug into the stone beneath her.

"Then send your own."

"Working on it. This one Dreamer is sitting on a gold mine of untapped potential, y'know…" A pause, and something in the mage's voice sharpened — the amusement turned into a blatant and perverted sadism.

"Send a few Dreamers. Not your kin. Ours." Mirabelle let out a shaky breath; as long as her people weren't sent out to be used as a Flesh-Shaper chum, she was fine with whatever the cult had in mind.

"However," Mirabelle's heart dropped, "now that I think of it, your kin are much stronger than our cult's shoddy Dreamers…" the mage said, sweetly. Mirabelle's jaw locked shut around whatever she'd meant to say next.

"I'm bringing his muse to the center, and as long as his girl's still in that ring, he isn't going to stop. Not for a dozen of our best, not for a hundred, not even for a thousand! We're not interested in stopping him tonight, Mirabelle. We're interested in watching what he does when he can't… So play with him a little! Won't you? All for your family, right?" Mirabelle understood, then, with a cold and familiar disgust, exactly what this was. A test.

Her people's numbers were about to be spent like coin, to see how far a single boy could be pushed before he broke.

"Seventeen," Mirabelle said, flat.

"I'll send seventeen of my strongest. It ends quickly, and no one else has to bleed for your curiosity…" The mage chirped.

"Five." Mirabelle opened her mouth to speak, but her words came out as a hiss of air. She breathed in and spoke, "All five will die!?"

"That's rather the point, isn't it?" The mage's voice was almost gentle, which made it worse.

"Send five. Watch what he does with them. I want to see. Maybe you could force the clam to leave its shell, make him use his powers… Properly!" Mirabelle bit the side of her cheek.

"I'll go." The milky orb lit up, but no voice came out… a silent refusal. Mirabelle said nothing; there was nothing to say that wouldn't cost her more than she already had left to lose. She ground her teeth, raised a clawed hand, and five names left her mouth like a confession.

"Orri, Vermund, Geirolf, Svan, T-Torv, you have a task — Kill the Flesh-Shaper coming here…" She silently cursed to herself; the faces of the five were filled with courage. They all knew what was in store for them — and that alone made their sacrifice all the more painful.

'I'm going to kill that damn Mage one day!'