“I react quickly when someone reaches for what’s mine,” what Kaelen said kept echo ringing in Soren’s head.
Soren froze for a fraction of a second, his heart giving a sudden, violent thump against his ribs.
He looked up, trying to read Kaelen’s face under the hood, but the Alpha was already looking ahead down the alley, his expression impassive and calm.
“The sign,” Kaelen said, gesturing toward a creaking wooden door ahead, marked with a faded carving of a three-eyed raven.
“That’s it, right?”
Soren cleared his throat, forcing his composure back into place.
“Yes.
Let me do the talking.
Brokers in the Reaches don’t respond well to Citadel authority.”
They pushed through the massive oak door,and stepped into a warm, low-ceilinged shop crammed with dusty bookshelves, glass jars filled with glowing liquids, and racks of dried herbs.
Behind a sturdy ironwood counter sat an elderly man with pale white hair, a rough scar running across his left eye, and sharp, calculating dark eyes.
He was carefully weighing a pile of shimmering blue dust on a small brass scale.
The old man didn’t look up as the door closed, with the doorbell ringing softly above it.
“If you’re buying health potions, the price is double today,” the old man rasped out, his voice sounding like grinding stones.
“If you’re selling stolen goods, I don’t buy Citadel iron.”
“We aren’t here for potions, Vane,” Soren said, stepping up to the counter, Kaelen moving right alongside him under the heavy cloak.
Vane slowly raised his head, his sharp eye scanning Soren’s pale face before drifting down to the way the two men stood awkwardly glued together under a single cloak.
A dark, knowing smirk spread across the old man’s wrinkled face.
“Ah,” Vane murmured, setting his brass weights down.
“A spell-cutter with a heavy guard.
two men bound by a rather rare piece of ancient enchantment?”
Soren didn’t bother denying it.
He reached under the cloak, pulling his left hand out just enough to reveal the rose-colored magic chain wrapped tightly around his wrist.
The metal pulsed with a soft, warm light in the dim shop.
“We need an anchor to break it,” Soren said directly.
“Something strong enough to unbind a High Alpha soul-bond without destroying our cores and frost pike pass is definitely destroyed by our enemies by now and it’s unreachable.
That’s the only way I know but I know you’d know better.”
Vane leaned forward, his dark eye gleaming with sudden curiosity.
He reached out a bony finger, hovering it an inch over the glowing metal, feeling the distinct, powerful aura radiating off it.
“A Rose-Iron bond,” Vane whispered, letting out a dry, wheezing whistle.
“Ancient High Citadel magic.
Nasty stuff.
You can’t break this with ordinary spell-dust or standard weapons, boy.
If you try to force it, the backlash will snap both of your hearts like dry twigs.”
“We know,” Kaelen interjected, his deep voice carrying an underlying edge of impatience.
“Name your price for the information.”
Vane looked at Kaelen, taking in the massive frame beneath the cloak and the faint, unmistakable pressure of an Alpha aura.
The old man’s smirk widened.
“Information isn’t free, High Alpha,” Vane said softly.
“The only catalyst capable of dissolving a Rose-Iron Tether without killing the hosts is the Sun-Drop Nectar—a rare magical resin found in the heart of the Sunken Ruins, three days south of here.”
“The Sunken Ruins?” Soren’s brow furrowed. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
“Those ruins are flooded with toxic dark magic.”
“Which is why the nectar still exists,” Vane replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
“Nobody stupid enough to go in ever comes back out alive.
But if you want that chain off your wrists, that’s your only path, and although it won’t kill it will still take something in return and it could be anything.
Just so you know.”
Before Soren could ask another question, the small bell above the shop door chimed loudly as two heavy-set men pushed inside, snow blowing in behind them.
They wore dark leather tunics over iron chainmail, bearing the sharp, silver wolf-head crest of Lord Boran’s Northern Pack on their shoulders.
Soren felt Kaelen’s entire body go completely rigid beside him.
“Old man,” one of the Northern scouts barked, slamming a heavy leather scroll onto the counter right next to Soren.
“Lord Boran’s hunting party has locked down the main roads out of Ash-Haven.
We’re looking for two runaways—a rogue spell-cutter with blonde hair, and a High Citadel Commander.
Have you seen them?”
The scout unrolled the parchment, revealing a remarkably accurate hand-drawn portrait of Soren and Kaelen.
Inside the quiet shop, the air turned deadly still.
Soren kept his head down beneath his hood, his left hand slowly reaching for the hilt of his silver dagger under the cloak.
Beside him, Kaelen’s right hand rested flat against the hilt of his broadsword, his muscles coiled like a spring, ready to strike the moment their cover was blown.
Vane looked at the poster, then slowly shifted his gaze toward the two hooded figures standing right in front of his counter, glued side-by-side.
Just when they get a lead on breaking the Rose-Iron bond—and learn it requires going into a toxic nightmare ruin—Lord Boran’s scouts walk right through the door.
Talk about terrible timing.
Do you think Vane is going to sell them out to the Northern Pack, or play along?
Drop your theories below!