Chương 217: Chapter 74: Monumental Mistake

An hour later, Selena opened her eyes. It was not a sudden awakening, but a slow emergence from the depths of a dense, strangely restorative sleep, as if the ring Мгла itself, after claiming its price, had granted her a dreamless rest in exchange. She stretched, feeling the subtle cracks of her spine, and scrutinized the cave. Silence still reigned, broken only by the distant dripping of filtered water and the baron's hoarse, regular breathing.

Looking out from the entrance, veiled by vines, she verified that the crescent moon night was still an ominous, black blanket studded with cold stars. There was still time. She turned and walked toward where Scargoth lay, bound to the stone column. The man was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling with a sonorous rhythm, his snoring echoing in the chamber in an almost grotesque manner. Selena exchanged a glance with Fjora, who remained on guard beside an oil lamp whose flame danced low.

The Nordic girl nodded, almost imperceptibly. —The sleeping potion was very effective, my lady —Fjora murmured, her voice a sweet, strange contrast to her martial figure and her expression carved in granite— Although his sleep lasted longer than I had anticipated. —It is time —Selena said, lowering her voice until it became a whisper heavy with intent.

The words came out tense, and she noticed her hands were trembling slightly, a fine tremor that was not out of fear, but from concentrated adrenaline, from the emotional abyss she was about to cross. —This must begin immediately. She sighed, a sound that was lost against the stone. Then she approached the baron. Her movements were precise; she took his left arm, indifferent to the flaccidity of the flesh beneath her touch. With the tip of a small, sharp dagger, she pricked the pad of his index finger.

A drop of dark blood welled up, gleaming in the lamp's light. Selena carefully collected it in a glass vial. The prick, though slight, was enough. Scargoth stirred, an animal grunt escaped his lips, and his eyelids snapped open under the blindfold covering his eyes. —Who goes there? —his voice was rough, heavy with sleep and an instant fear that he tried to cover with arrogance— If you reveal yourself, I will only let my guards cut off your hands. It is not necessary for you to pay with your life.

Selena did not respond with words. Her answer was the pommel of her short scimitar, which sank with precise force into the baron's solar plexus. The sound was dry, a smothered umpf that cut the air. Scargoth doubled over, his mouth open in a desperate attempt to breathe that did not come. The difficulty was evident and violent; the white blindfold covering his eyes darkened slightly from the sweat of sudden agony.

—Scum —Selena said then, her voice was not a shout, but something worse: a flat declaration, loaded with a rage so cold it burned— You, a thing I do not even consider human… forgive me? She spat in his face, a gesture of visceral contempt. —I see that some insects do not know their place. Fjora, with her usual synchrony, handed her a dagger whose blade had been heating red-hot in the lamp's flame. Selena took it without hesitation and applied it directly to the baron's bare thigh.

The flesh sizzled, a brief and nauseating sound, followed by the smell of burning skin. Scargoth's scream, harrowing and sharp, filled the cave, bouncing off the walls like the wail of a wounded animal. —Be grateful I have not come for your life! —Selena interrupted him, her voice sharp— You know why I am here. She laughed, a dry, humorless sound; it was a mask, it was well-designed theater. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. —You know very well.

Her performance of the Omnipresent Shadow, of that nebulous and feared entity, was yielding results. She noticed it in the man's physical change: he began to tremble uncontrollably, a tremor that ran through his whole body like a chill of pure panic. The blindfold over his eyes grew wetter, this time not from sweat, but from tears. —It is not my fault! —he sobbed, his words broken— I did what the organization asked of me.

I sent food where I was asked to, with the money they paid me I bribed guards, cooks, and spies… The plan went as it should have. You cannot blame me for what happened! He uttered "happened" with a brittle voice, loaded with a terrible fear of something Selena had not yet named. —The part about fleeing to Theosyra… it is only a rumor from my political enemies. They hate me, yes, they hate me! —He improvised desperately, trying to create an alternative narrative— After all, none of them possess my wealth.

You must understand… it is not that I was seeking to flee from the organization. —You are like a desperate anurhy after seeing you are outnumbered —Selena observed with disdain. Then she took a small blue glass vial out of her pouch. Inside, a viscous, amber liquid moved slowly. It was an alchemical poison, a mild one by slaughterhouse standards, but designed specifically to attack nerve endings, causing sharp, persistent pain. A favorite toy among slavers to break wills. —I have a gift here.

One you know well, because you use it on your slaves who refuse to cooperate. It is Tears of Saint Vitus. The name, like a tormenting spell, took immediate effect. Scargoth writhed against his bindings, as if trying to sink into the stone. —I will talk! —he screamed, his voice ruined by terror— I will talk, but do not use it, please! He trembled convulsively, as if an internal winter were freezing him.

—First of all —Selena said, leaning in until her breath brushed the man's ear— I want you to tell me why send the girl to Terracanto. Why do all that. If you failed the protocol… She left the sentence hanging, an incomplete threat more powerful than any detail. —I did as I was ordered! —Scargoth gasped— The girl was sent because she was vital to the organization's vision in the future. I was given no more information… after all, I am only one more link in the chain of intermediaries. What I do know…

because they told me… they were seeking to find a new connection. They did not tell me with what or for what. That was all I know, please, do not hurt me! His teeth chattered, knocking against each other at a frantic pace. Scargoth was, deep down, a coward. A parlor monster who crumbled at the first display of violence directed toward him. —What did you do with the letter? —Selena asked, and this time her long-suppressed rage burst forth in her voice like a geyser— The letter with the seal of House Solendra?

She could not contain herself. Her closed fist, hardened by years of training, slammed into the baron's ribs. The blow sounded deep, bony, and Scargoth let out a smothered groan, losing what little air he had left. —I only did what was asked of me! —he managed to spit out, regaining his breath between whimpers— What she asked of me. I kept the letter in the estate's safe, until someone arrived looking for answers… Tears were flowing freely now, mixing with sweat and drool.

—Everything was for the good of the mission, I swear it! She could not be wrong… she is, after all… He shut his mouth abruptly, as if he had bitten his tongue, the terror of revealing a name still being greater than the physical pain. —I understand that you do not wish to reveal it —Selena said, and her tone was almost sympathetic, which made it all the more terrifying. With a swift movement, she ripped the blindfold off his eyes.

Scargoth blinked, dazzled by the faint light of the lamp, his bloodshot eyes searching for his interrogator. Selena waved the vial of Tears of Saint Vitus in front of his face, the amber liquid gleaming sinisterly. But then, something shifted in the baron. Perhaps seeing that his captor was a young woman, of average height, lacking the intimidating presence of a professional executioner, a spark of his original arrogance reignited. A twisted, bloody smile formed on his lips.

—Whore —he spat, regaining an unexpected strength— You're barely a meter and a half brat. He let out a short laugh, loaded with contempt and desperation. —I am a fool… surely you only wanted information to extort me. What will you do? Run to your dead parents while I gut them in front of you after giving you the money? The mistake was monumental. Selena did not answer. She did not need to.

With the calm of someone conducting an experiment, she tilted the vial and let a single drop of the amber liquid fall into each of Scargoth's open eyes. The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. The pain must have been indescribable, a chemical fire directly in the optic nerves. The scream that tore from the baron was not human; it was a harrowing, primal shriek that seemed to rip through the very air of the cave.

He writhed with superhuman strength, his bindings creaking, his body convulsing in a spasm of pure agony.