Feral Mage 3: Chapter 30

After meeting with Mark, Bryce went into the yard with his girls and trained. Well, he trained in throwing the quills of his Quill Wyvern Aspect, the girls instead gathered around Vex as she tried to teach Omelet a command for flying. The scene was almost comical as Callie and Janna tried to persuade Omelet to take flight while Vex waited, ready to say the command. Omelet spent much of his time walking between Callie and Janna, seeing which would relent and give him the treat they held.

Despite the tension in the city and the guild, the moment was peaceful, and Bryce spent more time than he should have just watching the women in his life. The moment couldn’t last, though, and Bryce dropped his Quill Wyvern Aspect after he started to show accuracy with his throws.

“I’ll be back later tonight,” Bryce said to the girls. “It’s time I went and saw Isabelle.”

Callie’s gaze hardened.

“I can come with you,” she offered.

Bryce shook his head.

“I think this is something I need to straighten out with her myself.”

Janna frowned.

“Be careful, Bryce,” she warned.

He then felt Vex grab his jacket, a worried look on her face.

“Isabelle, not bad, she just…” Vex started to say, but her face shifted to one of concentration, and she mumbled in beastkin. “…What’s the common word for misguided?”

“She is a gang boss,” Janna stated, her tails flicking nervously as she looked at Vex.

Callie didn’t say anything, but she did nod in agreement with Janna.

Bryce placed a hand on Vex’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“I think I get what you mean. Isabelle didn’t do this out of malice, but she did do it without asking me first. That’s why this needs to be between me and her.”

Vex released his jacket, allowing him to leave.

He started walking through Witchbrook toward the Rim. The City felt almost empty, with so many people already having left. Those who remained either planned to fight or had nowhere else to go.

The Red Lace was still operating, and as usual, the workers of the brothel greeted him as he arrived. Bryce was sure these girls fit into the latter category of those remaining. He was sure their boss had a plan should the city fall. After all, Isabelle still controlled much of the drow tunnels under Witchbrook that smugglers used.

When he got to the second floor of the Red Lace, he knocked on Isabelle’s office doors and entered when she responded.

“Darling,” the gang boss greeted.

He strolled to her desk, staring at the mirror hanging on the wall behind her, Ciarra visible in it as if she were standing behind Isabelle.

“I did a little redecorating since your last visit. Do you not like the mirror? You have such a serious look on your face.”

He kept his gaze locked on the redhead sea elf instead of the Goddess.

“We’re in serious times, Isabelle,” he said, arriving at her desk. “The city is going to be attacked soon.”

He pulled out the Wyvern fang and slid it toward her. Isabelle picked it up, her fingers running along the point as she examined it.

“So you got your monster,” she said, meeting his eyes and gesturing to a seat.

Bryce nodded, but remained standing.

“The route will now be safe for your fences,” he said.

Isabelle pulled out a sack of coins and tossed it onto her desk. He took the coins, hefting the bag to feel the weight, then slipped it into his pocket.

“Now, are we gonna talk about our little date?” Isabelle asked, twirling a lock of her hair.

Bryce’s gaze drifted to the mirror, looking at Ciarra. “I want you to tell me about your Goddess.”

Isabelle smiled at him, and she stood from her chair.

“I knew this time would come,” she said with a heavy sigh as she walked around her desk. “I did promise I’d tell you anything you wanted.”

She moved to the center of the room and pushed aside a rug, revealing a small door. She grabbed the latch and opened it.

“Follow me,” she said with a smile. “I’ll tell you about our Goddess.”

Bryce gritted his teeth at those words and followed her down the passage. The stairs took them below the Red Lace and eventually opened into a round chamber that Bryce realized was part of the drow tunnels. His gaze landed on the statue of Ciarra that stood before a deep pit in the center of the room, and his grip tightened on his sword.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t have many worshipers. Such a shame, really. She is a wonderful Goddess, though perhaps a bit…” She tapped her chin. “Feral, maybe, is the best word to describe her.”

Isabelle walked to the statue while Bryce took in the room. Chains hung from the walls. The wooden floor was scarred with fingernail marks where people had been dragged toward the pit. He walked near the pit itself, and the stench of decay hit him. Then, he saw bones scattered in the sand at the bottom.

When he looked back at Isabelle, she was watching him.

“She’s not a gentle Goddess,” Isabelle said. “But she is a real Goddess, unlike those in the temples crafted by the Kingdoms to keep us on short leashes.”

She bowed before the statue of Ciarra.

“Why did you do it?” Bryce asked. “Why did you give me this curse?”

Isabelle pouted when she raised her head.

“Darling, it’s not a curse. It’s a blessing. I performed the ritual because you were the best one to help my Goddess, and you needed her help as well,” Isabelle said. “She needs a champion to be her force in this world, and you need her strength to survive and keep those you care for safe.”

Bryce sneered.

“Blessing? I didn’t ask for this, Isabelle. I didn’t ask for her to slice my back open and try to turn me into a Chimera when I failed to kill the Wyvern,” he yelled. “Undo it!”

His voice echoed through the small room, and a roar responded from the pit. A roar he recognized. He looked into the pit and saw a small door at the bottom.

“That’s a Howler,” he said, then looked at the bones. “You’re making sacrifices to her by feeding one of her children.”

“Only trash like the Black Knife assassins and their hunters,” she answered, standing.

Then she drew her twin swords with a sad smile, and Bryce unsheathed his sword, taking a stance.

“I can’t undo it, Bryce. Even if I could, I wouldn’t,” Isabelle said as she moved away from the pit, her swords angled as if to strike. “All I did was let Ciarra know you existed. She saw the potential in you, same as me, and bestowed her blessing.”

Bryce shot forward, swinging his blade. Isabelle whirled, one of her swords coming up and meeting his. The sound of their clash rang out through the room.

“Darling, I knew we’d end up dancing,” Isabelle said with a laugh. “Just make sure you don’t have two left feet.”

She pushed forward, her blades hissing as she slashed through the air at him. He blocked, then shifted into his own strike. Isabelle shot back, out of his blade’s reach.

“If you’d pull on your magic, you could easily defeat me,” she teased. “I wouldn’t mind. Ciarra’s the one who taught Cain how to use Aspect Magic after all.”

He recalled a faint memory of Ciarra standing over a weeping Cain, making a promise to the first Aspect Mage. He pushed it from his thoughts as his sword met hers. This wasn’t the time for reflections on the past.

“So you’ve always used the strength Ciarra gave you,” she taunted before Bryce pushed her back.

He dodged another strike, grabbing her sword arm and shoving her off balance. Like a dancer, Isabelle twirled, regained her footing, and came at him again. He had to admit, the cleric was skilled with a blade. Skilled enough to go toe-to-toe with any Iron Rank merc from the guild hall, maybe even Callie if she didn’t use her Bloodline of Thorns.

“Tell me, darling,” she said, her blade twirling through the air as steel rang against steel. “If you didn’t have the blessing, where would you be now? Would you be alive? Would the Princess be alive?”

He gritted his teeth.

“You should have asked me,” he demanded.

Isabelle smirked.

“Would you have said yes?”

She lunged, her blade catching his arm with a shallow cut. He slashed back at her, his sword grazing her cheek and cutting a few strands of hair that fell to the floor.

She pouted at the sight.

“Darling, you’re going to ruin my cut. I just styled it.”

She dodged several more strikes, but Bryce was backing her up to the wall, and soon she wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

“I didn’t ask to be your Goddess’s champion!” he shouted.

Isabelle scoffed.

“This isn’t like what they taught you at the temples, Bryce! The real Divine take, they demand, and we serve. They’re not part of some grand pantheon plotting what’s best for their worshipers. They are at war with each other, and we are merely their foot soldiers. You didn’t ask, I didn’t give, Ciarra chose you!”

Their swords clashed again. Bryce’s foot came up and pushed Isabelle back into the wall of the room. He swung his blade as she struck the wall, stopping just at her neck. Isabelle dropped her swords and looked at him, tilting her head to give him a clean cut.

“I don’t regret it. If my Goddess’s Champion decides to take my life, so be it,” she said, closing her eyes, a look of bliss on her face.

Bryce swore, pulling the blade away from her neck and sheathing it.

“Stay away from me,” he said, turning and leaving the hidden room.

He only glanced back once, seeing Isabelle sitting on the floor, watching him leave with a forlorn expression. Vex’s words rang in his mind.

…Misguided.