Chapter 22 - A Throne Born From Ash

Tears streaked his face with a precision that seemed almost artistic, each drop accentuating the anguish as he gently caressed Argent’s cold, pale face. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if savoring every fleeting moment of connection with her lifeless form. At a distance, the seers whispered among themselves, their eyes flitting between him and the others, their murmurs laced with doubt and suspicion about his loyalty. Despite the weight of their judgment, Hound lay there, unmoving, consumed by his grief for the remainder of the day.

“A streaking silver flame, burning through the streets, destroying property and reducing citizens to ash without discernible cause... there’s only one person who fits the description,” Blanc stated as he entered the room, stepping through the shattered remnants of the door with his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. Emily trailed closely behind him, her steps cautious, while Bleak staggered in after them, his face battered and bruised from his clash with the seers.

“Leave us,” Blanc commanded, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of authority. The others obeyed without hesitation, disappearing like ghosts from the room. Only Hound remained by Argent’s side, his body a monument of silent sorrow. Bleak, battered and bound by chains, slumped against the wall. Emily stood with a syringe filled with liquified ether in her grasp, her expression unreadable. A seer lingered nearby, his tools of torture gleaming ominously, and Blanc himself stood at the center, a picture of restrained grief and unshaken composure.

“I brought this in case you’d prefer to numb yourself from the pain of her loss,” Emily offered, crouching beside Hound. She held the syringe out to him, her tone soft, yet there was a trace of hesitation in her voice. “With the symbiote fully integrated now, your body should metabolize ether naturally.”

She tilted the cold steel needle toward her neck and injected herself. Her eyes glowed a vivid green, her skin shimmering faintly as her veins illuminated a bright, unnatural blue before settling back into their normal tone. “It clears my head,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, tinged with something that bordered on vulnerability. “I understand why you were addicted.”

Hound’s gaze shifted briefly toward her, his voice low yet firm as he replied, “Your body is not core-infused. You’re penniless without your parents’ wealth. You’ve got no job; an ether addiction will destroy you.”

“I’ve altered the formula to make it less harmful to the human body. As I’ve told you before, this is my specialty,” Emily countered, her voice sharpening slightly. Without waiting for permission, she injected the remaining ether into Hound’s arm. He didn’t react, nor did he stop her.

Blanc’s voice broke the silence with a cold jest. “Ironic, isn’t it? Bound by soul ties, enemies turned master and slave. Then again, a dog is always loyal to its master.”

Slowly, Hound rose to his feet, his movements deliberate and heavy with intention. Each step toward Blanc was unhurried, the sound of his feet against the floor echoing ominously in the room. He stopped mere inches away, his hand resting lightly on Blanc’s shoulder. Hound’s gaze bore into Blanc’s unseeing eyes, his voice a quiet yet powerful tide of emotion. “She loved you, Blanc. The way a daughter loves her father.”

Blanc’s stoic mask cracked ever so slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to keep his composure. “I know,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

In a gesture both unexpected and intimate, Hound pulled Blanc into an embrace. Blanc, caught off guard, didn’t resist, his body trembling as he allowed himself, for once, to grieve not as Argent’s superior but as a father mourning a child. His quiet sobs filled the room as Hound’s voice whispered against his ear. “I promised her I wouldn’t harm the cause she fought for. I intend to keep that promise.”

Blanc’s relief was fleeting. Before he could respond, flames erupted from his body, their silver tongues consuming him with a ferocity that left no room for escape. Blanc screamed, the sound raw and primal, yet Hound’s arms held him tight, the flames illuminating his calm, unflinching expression. The seers burst into the room, their movements frantic, but it was too late. By the time they reached Blanc, there was nothing left but ashes.

“I’ve always hated being called a dog,” Hound said, his voice calm but edged with venom. He allowed Blanc’s charred remains to fall to the ground, his hands brushing off soot as if ridding himself of an unpleasant memory. “Perhaps now you’ll understand... respect isn’t earned through servitude. It’s forged through fear.”

He turned to face the seers, his voice rising to a commanding roar. “The organization abides by one sacred rule. You kill the king, you become the king. Isn’t that right?”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The seers’ tattoos burned brightly, their bodies convulsing as if caught between worlds. One by one, they dropped to their knees, their heads bowed low. Their voices rose in unison, trembling as they declared, “Yes, sir!”

“Good,” Hound said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. He turned his gaze toward Bleak, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Now, what shall I do with you?”

At his command, the seers bound Bleak to a chair. Hound positioned Argent’s body upright against a shattered glass pane, his voice soft as he addressed her lifeless form. “I want you to watch this, my dear friend.”

He turned to Emily, his tone gentle yet laced with chilling authority. “Argent never listened. I expect better from you. We’re going to change this island—both River and Rivermirror. I need us to always be aligned. Am I clear?”

Emily hesitated, her voice faltering as she answered, “Yes... yes, sir.”

“Good.” Hound’s smile widened. “Now, take a knife from one of the seers.”

“She will skin your entire body clean. Revealing only the flesh beneath”, he said to Bleak.

Emily’s hands trembled as she obeyed. Her hesitation was brief, though, and as the blade sliced through Bleak’s skin, precision honed from years at the academy took over. Her expression hardened, the initial reluctance giving way to a grim focus. By the time she reached his feet, a chilling satisfaction gleamed in her eyes.

The seers prepared a cooking pot with boiling water and a fire underneath at the hotel room as Bleak’s screams and agony went on. 

The room was filled with Bleak’s anguished screams, his cries echoing like a haunting melody. Hound, ever calm, issued his next command. “Now, take the hammer. Break his bones.”

Emily hesitated again but complied. Each swing of the hammer sent shockwaves through the room, the sound of breaking bones blending with Bleak’s desperate pleas. Hound’s laughter rang out, dark and unrestrained, as he watched her work.

Bleak’s voice cracked, desperation thick in his words. “You haven’t even asked me anything! What’s the point of this without questions?”

Hound’s laughter only grew louder, his tone mocking as he replied, “I don’t care what you have to say... I just want to see you suffer.”

Emily didn’t wait for Hound’s order to swing the large hammer first dislocating his jaw, then shattering the bones in his knees. Then followed, his shattering ribcage. The plastic chair broke from the hammer’s impact.

When Emily finally paused, breathless and shaking, Hound’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “She will drag you, and dump you in the pot”

Emily didn’t hesitate this time. As Bleak’s body sank into the bubbling water, his screams rose to an otherworldly crescendo.

“That’s a good girl,” Hound whispered as he hugged her from behind, meeting no resistance from her. His hands travelled from her stomach to her bloodied curvature of her breasts, then to her neck, and with a smooth slow movement with his hands, he turned her face to meet his, and their lips met passionately as Bleak continued to boil in the pot screaming as if he were possessed, losing the battle of life and death.

“Why are you quiet Argent?! You’re never quiet! Tell me, Are you proud of me? ARE YOU PROUD?”. Hound’s laughter echoed once more, his voice rising in a chilling crescendo.