Page 31 of Betraying the Beast

“You forgot this,” she said.

Ceryn stepped back instinctively. “That was meant for Vael’Zhur. I can’t use it now—not on him.”

Elodia’s smile was faint. “Then perhaps you should see the whole truth.”

The dagger floated toward her, slowly rotating.

With reluctant fingers, Ceryn caught the hilt.

Her breath caught.

Carved into the opposite side of the handle, barely visible in the dim light, was another name.

Aladar.

A sharp chill raced up her spine. “What... what does this mean?”

Elodia’s hands folded like a scholar delivering a lesson. “You may only use the blade once. No wound will miss its mark. One strike—fatal. But it will only kill the one whose name is carved into its hilt.”

“So who is Aladar?” she asked, heart thudding.

Elodia only stepped back, beginning to fade again. “You must discover that for yourself.”

“Is it Auren? Aldaric? Someone else?” Her voice shook now.

Elodia’s reply was solemn, gentle, damning.

“You must decide who your true enemy is, Ceryn. Who will you save?”

Then she vanished, her final words lingering like smoke.

“Who will you choose?”

Ceryn stood alone beneath the trees, the dawn pale and sickly at the horizon, the dagger cold in her hand. Somewhere far off, the roaring continued—closer now.

She spun toward the sound of footsteps and voices. Leaves rustled. Shadows emerged through the mist.

Aldaric.

Clad in full armor that shimmered like oil-slicked steel, he stepped into the clearing like he owned the world. His presence devoured the space—tall, imposing, radiating cruel confidence. Beside him, Rorik loomed, impassive, unreadable beneath his helm.

“Do you have what I want?” Aldaric’s voice was sharp, cold, the calm before a killing blow.

Ceryn’s fingers closed around the dagger, and she forced herself to slip it into her waistband, covering it with her cloak.

“I brought it,” she said, lifting the satchel over her shoulder but not offering it. “Not until I see my mother and sister.”

Aldaric’s smile was thin and hungry. “You think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

He took a step forward, eyes gleaming. “I’m dressed for battle, girl. Do you know why?”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I don’t need you anymore.” He gestured, and two soldiers flanked her. One gripped her arm like iron. The other seized the satchel and handed it to the warlord.

Aldaric peered inside but barely glanced at the contents.

“You couldn’t break the curse,” he said flatly. “You found no cure. No true path forward.”

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