Dusk poured into the manor like ink bleeding through expensive paper.
The west wing had been emptied, curtains drawn, corridors cleared. No guards. No staff. No sound but the whisper of firelight down long hallways. That was how you knew Nitron was serious—he didn't need an audience when he planned to make a point.
Elma moved through the hall with her hands loose at her sides. The leash pulsed against her ribs, an unspoken reminder: Tonight, you're not here as a guest. You're here as proof.
Two guards in dark suits flanked the carved double doors of the atrium. One pushed them open without a word.
Nitron stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, a silhouette against stained glass washed in twilight. The air bent toward him like gravity wasn't a suggestion anymore.
"Elma," he said, without turning. "Close the doors."
She obeyed. The click of the lock was louder than it should have been.
The leash hummed approval.
"Do you know why you're here?" Nitron asked.
Elma took her time answering, every step toward him measured. "Because you don't trust me."
His lips curved faintly, though his back was still to her. "I don't trust anyone. You, however, I verify."
She didn't like that word. "And tonight's verification?"
"Necessary."
He turned. His eyes burned low, a fire dampened but never extinguished. He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
She didn't. "You like making me wait."
"I like seeing if you'll obey." His tone was soft, almost conversational. That was worse than fury.
The leash coiled heat under her sternum, waiting for her choice.
Elma sat.
Nitron studied her in silence for a long moment, like a scholar dissecting a rare specimen. "You're bleeding influence into places you shouldn't," he said finally. "Thalos, Rauth, even Frostspawn. Three families bending in under a week. Impressive… or dangerous."
"I thought you liked dangerous," Elma said.
"I like controlled dangerous." He moved closer, steps so quiet they made her skin crawl. "Tell me, Elma—why do they bend to you?"
"Because they're afraid of you."
"Wrong." He crouched in front of her, face level with hers, voice dropping to a blade's whisper. "They bend because you've made yourself a threat independent of me. They fear you more than they fear the leash."
The leash pulsed at the word, a serpent twitching in its sleep.
Nitron's hand came up—not to strike, but to press against her jaw. Fingers curled under her chin. Heat radiated from his touch like a forge. "That makes you valuable," he said. "And it makes you dangerous to me."
Elma held his stare, though every instinct screamed to lower her eyes. "Then maybe stop teaching me how to bite."
His grip tightened. The leash flared; pain shot through her chest like lightning. She gasped but didn't flinch.
Nitron studied her calmly. "Still rebellious," he murmured. "But pain-resistant. I suppose that's what happens when you let loyalty split in two."
She froze. He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough.
"You bleed for her," he said softly. "You win for her. You risk me for her."
The leash burned hotter at the mention of Calista. Nitron's power tasted her name and punished them both. Somewhere in the house, she probably felt the echo.
"I told myself," he said, voice steady, "that you were a weapon too sharp to blunt. That even if you burned yourself, I'd still get what I wanted. But now…" He let go of her chin, rising slowly. "…now I think you've started forging yourself."
Elma flexed her jaw, swallowing the pain. "You sound scared."
Nitron smiled faintly. "I'm intrigued."
He turned away and gestured to the center of the room. "Stand."
She did, heart hammering. He motioned, and a sigil flared to life on the floor—a circle of silver-blue runes that smelled faintly of ozone and ash.
"Step inside," he said.
The leash thrummed. This wasn't punishment. This was testing. She stepped into the circle, and the air snapped shut like glass around her.
Runes crawled up her arms, shimmering like molten metal. She felt her pulse syncing to them. The shard on her wrist flared in response, unseen but alive.
Nitron watched closely. "Interesting. Something resists me."
Elma bit back a smile. "Guess you don't own everything."
His eyes flicked to her. "Yet."
He raised his hand. The runes surged. Elma gasped as they pierced deeper—not just flesh but thought, searching, probing. Her knees buckled.
The shard pulsed harder, like it was fighting back. Sparks jumped across the sigil, light bleeding red through the blue.
Nitron's smile sharpened. "Ah. So you do carry something foreign."
He pressed harder, and the circle flared white-hot. Pain lanced up her spine, but the shard pushed back with a low, humming defiance. For a breathless second, the runes faltered.
Elma grinned through clenched teeth. "Looks like… not everything bows."
Nitron's gaze burned hotter. He dropped his hand, and the sigil dimmed. Elma staggered but stayed on her feet.
"You amuse me," he said. "And that's why you're still alive."
"Flattered," she rasped.
His expression didn't change. "Bring me the second fragment."
Elma's breath caught. "You know about it."
"I know everything," Nitron said. "It's under Thorn's vault. Rauth has the key. And now that you've broken one of his chains, he's… vulnerable."
She blinked. This wasn't a threat. This was an assignment.
"You're sending me," she said. "Alone."
He stepped close again, towering over her. "Because I want to see if you bring it back to me… or her."
The leash hummed at the implication, ready to crush her if she made the wrong choice.
Nitron leaned in, his voice brushing her ear. "Run if you want. I'll still catch you."
He turned, cloak whispering against the floor. "Dismissed."
Elma didn't wait to be told twice. She left the atrium, heart pounding, every nerve singing from the test. When she hit the corridor, she let herself exhale shakily.
Kade was leaning against the wall outside, expression unreadable.
"He pushed," Kade said.
"He found the shard," she said.
"Of course he did." Kade's gaze flicked to her wrist. "But he didn't take it."
"Maybe he wants to see where I run."
Kade studied her for a long moment, then said, "If you want to live, don't let him see you hesitate."
She smirked weakly. "You giving me advice now?"
"Call it… investment," Kade said. He stepped back, letting her pass.
Calista was waiting in her private quarters, pacing like a caged flame. She turned the second Elma entered, eyes sharp.
"You're alive," Calista said, relief and fury twined in her voice.
"Barely," Elma said. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. "He knows."
Calista froze. "How much?"
"He knows I bleed for you," Elma said. "He knows about the shard. And he knows where the second one is."
Calista's breath hitched. "Then we move faster."
Elma nodded. "Thorn's vault."
Calista crossed the room, crouched in front of her. "We steal it before he can tighten the leash."
"Or before he decides I'm not worth keeping," Elma muttered.
Calista's hand brushed hers, brief and dangerous. "You're worth everything," she whispered.
The leash burned for the contact, but Elma didn't care.
"Then let's rob a house," Elma said.
[New Quest: Steal the Second Fragment]
Target: Thorn Vault, Eastern Quarter
Status: Active
Risk: Extreme
Bonus Reward: Severance Code (Partial)
And somewhere deep in the manor, Nitron poured himself a glass of wine, smiling faintly at the leash's distant hum.
The game was no longer about loyalty. It was about who broke first.