They came as dusk captured the third day.
Chyrie finished wrapping and polishing the hilt of her rapier at sunrise, using the last of her hours to practice the positions Xiran taught her.
Over and over, she fought herself.
A scorch mark from the flaming doppelganger she summoned now impacted the wall.
Chains chafed her wrists as three men loomed around her, shoving every so often in an attempt to rattle the fortress of earth she'd spent days constructing around herself.
The Ceirvani men even strapped her into a bandelier, forcing her to carry the blades she'd forged.
She'd only blinked.
Not even her emotions could threaten the thick walls.
She built the foundation with painstaking force, reliving the memory of her capture so Anryth could no longer use it against her.
Chyrie knew tears lined her lashes when Courmasse came into view, even if she managed to swallow them back.
She stared in awe at the cliffside city, watching as Emberian people snuck peeks of her from boarded windows and hid in the once polished streets of quartz. The heels of her boots still clicked beneath her as they strode for the palace, several streets north.
Her attention lingered on the blood smeared roads, littered with food and debris from the Ceirvani brutality. A beautiful smokey pink with veins of white now murky and chipped.
Chyrie ignored the nausea, looking past the beaten city until all she could see was Anryth standing on the staircase before her.
His smirk reminded her of the adders lurking around in these caves, poised and ready to strike.
"Chyrivelle," he beamed. "So lovely of you to join us."
Tipping her head in acknowledgement, she refused to bow. After murdering her parents, capturing her brother, her friend, her soul, he'd been given enough.
"Anryth," she replied.
"Take her to Holding," Anryth commanded the brute holding her chain. "I've a few last minute touches to see to."
Without another word, he disappeared into her home, striding as if he'd carved the stone himself.
Chyrie grunted when the larger man, blond with wide shoulders, jolted her forward. He had the grace of a swamp monster with none of the legend. All she could interpret were the strange smacks his mouth made while he powered down apples.
He yanked her through the halls, leading her to the dungeons her family only kept as a formality.
When she rounded the corner, the blood drained from her face.
Slumped into the far corner, beaten within an inch of life, Cathan's ragged gasps chilled her to the bone.
Her brother's shuddered breathing changed as she was thrown into the room. Cathan lifted hollow brown eyes to her, bruised cheeks and smudged in grime.
"Chyrie..."
Her heart threatened to stop at the sound of his voice.
Chyrie raced to his side as the cell was locked behind them, kneeling down to take in her brother's crippled frame. In what condition were they deemed worthy of fighting?
"What happened to you..."
Cathan coughed and adjusted against the wall, gripping his ribs. "Anryth claimed it was justice—for what, I don't know."
Her stomach dropped.
Without thinking, Chyrie reached out her hands with a flash of flame and attempted to mend the broken bones she assumed lie beneath. Cathan winced as she worked, staring at the strange color of light emanating from her palms.
Instead of her golden auburns, the color sizzling from her fingertips radiated white and blue.
"What—"
"Shhh," Chyrie whispered, leveling him with a narrowed look. "Not not. I'll answer your questions once we are safe."
"Where have you been?" a roughened male voice called across the hall.
Chyrie whipped around to see another cell.
Iden – General to the Royal Guard and Asa's betrothed – leaned through the bars with a dark look. She'd rarely been questioned by the man since her father appointed a friend's son for his hard work and marksmanship.
Asa spoke of him from time to time, of her trepidation towards wedding the man, but they'd never spoken of his judgement.
"Anryth destroyed the archives and discovered my true name," she explained softly, staring at the ground. "He imprisoned me within Niukka's Forge and forced me to swear a blood oath."
"A blood oath?" Iden snorted. "Impossible."
Chyrie adjusted her matted hair away from her shoulder and face, revealing the nasty whirls of scarring. "He held me to the flames, shoving me into the magma until I swore the oath."
The sight made Cathan blanch, shocked by the deep grooves of her neck.
"You could've marred yourself," Iden said.
"Who would do that to themselves?" Asa snapped.
Chyrie's heart thundered in her chest as the young woman rose from her cot, her back turned.
Asa's muddy green gown, still rotten, wet, and smeared with blood, had blended straight into the walls.
Her once sharp, smooth features were now gaunt and scratched.
Chyrie swallowed as she realized the truth. Anryth was going to kill them all, one way or another.
Xiran cleared his throat from her left, as if warning her to keep that particular thought to herself. It must've shown on her face, because when she turned to him, the captain only shook his head subtly.
"We have to get out of here," Cathan rasped. "Leave Emberlin if we must..."
Chyrie faced him, a grim frown pulling on her lips. "No... Anryth's oath bade me forge swords for us. All of us..."
Iden scoffed again. "Why would he make you forge for the Grim?"
Asa growled in warning again.
The brewing hatred between the arranged couple only grew with each exchange. Their spiteful glares and crossed arms only accented by his lengthy distance across the cell from her.
Chyrie focused on her feet, bare against the slick ground. The rock beneath them, the earth beyond them.
"Xiran is my ally," she replied, raising a brow. "Are you?"
Iden bared his teeth in response, but said nothing. A quick glance toward Asa suggested he cared more about the contract than her.
"Forge blades for what, Chyrie?" Asa asked softly.
"We're to fight the Ceirvani for our freedom," Xiran answered for her, dropping his hood back. His blue-green eyes gleamed in the dim light, nearly predatory as he assessed Iden. "Likely each other as well."
Chyrie's hands clenched at her sides, crusted in her brothers blood now. Her nails dug into her skin as she considered fighting any of these individuals. Men that trained their entire lives from youth, her best friend who's skillset loomed before her.
She might have to fight them all?
"A Ceirvani custom," Xiran continued, sizing each party with great consideration. "Their prisoners often fight to the death for a chance at freedom. Then, the remaining soul will challenge the warden."
"How is that justice?" Cathan growled.
"It isn't," Iden snapped back.
"There is no justice in the lives that have been lost, in keeping us here," Asa agreed.
"Justice is what I say it is," Anryth purred from the staircase. He stepped down in his emerald finery, arms crossed, a sword strapped to his side. "My people have been using this technique for generations."
Chyrie couldn't tear her eyes away from the polished weapon.
The sword she was forced to craft him.
"We are ready for you now," he said. "I hope you're ready."