Chapter 36

“ What do you want?” I asked, my voice cold. I tried to keep my expression neutral, unwilling to show him any fear, but it was a battle I was losing.

Hezron leaned back in his chair, taking a leisurely sip of wine. “ So many questions.” he said, setting his goblet down with a soft clink. “ I thought you might enjoy a proper meal. You must be tired of the scraps they’ve been feeding you.”

I eyed the table warily. It was filled with more food than I’d seen in weeks, but I knew better than to trust Hezron’s generosity. “ I’m not hungry,” I lied, my voice steady but strained.
Hezron chuckled, his smile widening. “ Oh, but you should be. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you? Beaten, starved, locked away like some criminal. My father’s methods are…brutal, I’ll admit.” He paused, his gaze flicking over my bruised face. “ But I’m not my father.”

I flinched at his words, sensing the lie behind them. Hezron was every bit as dangerous as Kyrell, just in a different way. “ I don’t need your pity,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

Hezron’s smile tightened. “Pity? No, I don’t pity you. I admire you.” He rose from his chair and strolled around the table, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the faint scar running along his jawline. “ You’re strong. Resilient. My father thinks he can break you, but I see the fire in your eyes. It’s… intriguing.”

I stepped back, putting distance between us. “ If you brought me here just to talk, then you’re wasting both our time.”

Hezron’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing.

“ You’re not in a position to make demands.” He grabbed a grape from the table and popped it into his mouth, savoring it slowly, before continuing, as though he was in no hurry. I watched him, my stomach churning not from hunger but from the unease that settled within me. He acted as though this was just another casual conversation, yet every word he spoke was laced with implications far more dangerous than he let on.

" I brought you here because I thought you might enjoy a decent meal and some fresh air while my father is out," he said, leaning back in his chair. His casual demeanor was a thin veil over his true intentions.

“ Where did your father go?” I dared to ask; my voice tinged with cautious curiosity. I didn’t expect him to answer, but I had to try. Every piece of information about Kyrell’s movements could be the key to my escape.

Hezron smirked, and to my surprise, he answered without hesitation. “ My father is off looking for far-off descendants who were born without the mark, like you. They can pass through the barrier and scavenge what food they can find. Oddly enough, there’s been a surge of babies born without the mark recently.” Hezron’s gaze turned thoughtful, as if he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind. “ We’ve been training them to become warriors, able to slip through the barrier and return with supplies. Because they are born without the mark…” He reached up and touched the faint outline of the cursed symbol on his own forehead. “ They are the only ones who can cross over, even if only for a limited time.”

He paused, studying my reaction, and I forced myself to keep my face neutral. I didn’t want him to see how much his words affected me, how every new detail was like another thread in the complex web of this cursed kingdom.

Hezron continued, his voice lower now, as if he was sharing a secret meant for my ears alone. “ Once they cross the barrier, the mark appears on their foreheads, just like ours. But the moment they come back, it disappears again, almost as if the barrier itself can’t quite decide if they belong inside or outside.”

I listened intently, absorbing every piece of information he gave me. Kyrell’s search for those born without the mark made sense now. The barrier was not an impenetrable wall but a selectively permeable gate that allowed only those without the curse’s mark to pass, and even then, only temporarily. I wondered what it felt like for those descendants—being dragged back by the invisible force of the curse, a constant reminder that they could never truly be free.

“ How many of them are there?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“ A dozen or so, maybe more,” Hezron replied, swirling his wine thoughtfully. “ But most are just children. Barely old enough to wield a sword, let alone fend for themselves on the other side. But there are older soldiers, spies who have found out information for us.” He shrugged, the casual dismissal of their struggle chilling me to the bone. “ They’re useful, though. They bring back what they can, and for a moment, they taste freedom, even if it’s fleeting.”

I felt a bit of sympathy for those children, used as tools in Kyrell’s relentless pursuit of power. They were trapped just like me, their only value seen in their ability to pass through a barrier that held them captive. I could only imagine the false hope they felt each time they crossed, thinking maybe, just maybe, they’d find a way to stay on the other side.

Hezron’s eyes flicked back to mine, his gaze sharp and probing. “ I see the wheels turning in your head. You’re wondering what it all means, aren’t you? Why you don’t have the mark, why you were able to pass through the barrier when others can’t.”

He was right, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. I just stared back, keeping my expression guarded.

“ Truth is, we don’t know why some are born without it,” Hezron continued, his tone almost reflective. “ My father believes it’s a sign, a crack in the curse. He thinks that if he finds enough of these descendants, he can weaken the barrier or break it entirely. But it’s not enough. He needs something more,” his finger hovering over his goblet. “ The one with the blue flame.”

A chill ran down my spine. Hezron’s words confirmed my worst fears—that Kyrell was hunting me for more than just pleasure or control. He saw me as a key, a way to finally shatter the curse that bound his kingdom. But what I didn’t understand was how my elemental powers fit into a curse cast by a witch. Could the blue flame truly have the power to alter magic that had nothing to do with elementals? No matter what, he can’t find out that I am the one with the blue flame.

“ What if he’s wrong?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“ What if all of this… the training, the searches… it’s all just a dead end?”

Hezron’s expression tightened for a brief moment, his facade slipping. “ Then we continue as we always have—trapped and desperate. But my father doesn’t tolerate failure, and he won’t stop until he finds a way to break free.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. Kyrell’s desperation made him dangerous, and his willingness to exploit anything and anyone to break the curse made him even more so. But Hezron’s ambition was different, more insidious. He wasn’t just following his father’s orders; he had his own agenda, one that involved me in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend.

He took another sip of wine, his gaze never leaving mine. I turned away, my thoughts churning. Hezron’s words left me with more questions than answers, each one more unsettling than the last. Was there a way for me to leverage this newfound knowledge? Could I use what I now knew about the descendants, the mark, and the barrier to find a way out of Dravonia for good? Or was I destined to remain caught in this cruel cycle, forever at the mercy of a king and his son?


*****

( Kaden )


As first light of dawn broke over the horizon, we set out, following the faint glow of the amulet Cassandra had crafted for us. Its shimmering arrow was our only guide, leading us toward Meara. Cassandra had packed us enough food for the journey, but no amount of provisions could ease the sense of urgency tightening in my chest. Every second we spent on the road felt like another second wasted, another second that Meara was out there, alone.

Initially, I thought about cutting through the Magical Forest to save time, but one glance at Deon and I knew it wasn’t an option. He wasn’t fully healed yet, the venom from the Shadowfang’s bite still visible in his pallor and the slow, deliberate movements he made. Cassandra had made me promise to look after him, and that meant taking the safer, longer, route around the forest’s borders.