Jason stood behind a broken pillar of black stone, watching Ylva walk ahead. Her steps were steady now, her tail no longer dragging. Mae’s milk had done its work—she was back on track, resilient as ever. She had faced death and shrugged it off like it was nothing.

He admired her strength, it was genuinely impressive.

But his own strength troubled him because Jason had been a liability until now.

Jason didn’t know what was going on with himself. He had defeated the watcher—a creature that had ripped the ant king apart, that had pierced Ylva’s stomach like it was paper. And Jason had done it easily, too easily.

He had no idea his adaptation system would make him this strong, magic didn’t seem to work on him, it was like his very existence was able to counter to it.

"The watcher ran from me," Jason thought to himself.

He looked down at his hands and they weren’t shaking. They weren’t scarred either, they looked the same as they always had. But something inside him had changed.

"My system... did it malfunction?" Jason thought to himself.

The adaptations had come too fast, immunity to mana manipulation and mana absorption. The barrier and the blast, all of it had poured out of him in a single moment of rage. The system had never worked like that before. It had always been gradual—percentages, minutes elapsed, slow accumulation.

But when Ylva fell, something had snapped. And the system had responded to his rage, not to exposure.

Jason knew that was a one-time thing. He couldn’t depend on it happening again. If he faced another threat like the watcher, and the rage didn’t come... he would die as he had already reached his limit on things he could adapt to.

Still, he had grown exponentially stronger, that much was undeniable.

And only one other person knew about it.

Mae.

Jason glanced at her. She was walking at the rear, the ant king’s sleeping form wrapped against her back. Her brown eyes met his for a moment—then darted away just as fast.

"She’s scared of me," Jason thought to himself.

He could see it in the way she held herself, the slight tremor in her hooves. The way she kept distance between them and Mae had watched him tear the watcher’s arm off, also watched him absorb mana that should have killed him. Mae watched him become something she didn’t recognize in that moment even though the circumstances were understandable.

Jason turned back to the path ahead, he didn’t blame her.

He was scared of himself too.

Ylva stopped walking. Her ears swiveled, her nose lifted to the grey air. Her tail went rigid.

"I can’t smell Thalion," she said.

Jason turned. "What?"

"His scent is gone. Completely. Like he was never here." Her nostrils flared. "But I can smell the other one."

Mae’s hooves clicked against the stone as she stepped closer. "The other one? You mean the one Jason—"

"Yes." Ylva’s green eyes narrowed. "And if he’s as injured as you described, he’s in a bad state. Weak and bleedingm if we corner him we should stand a chance,"

Jason’s heart quickened. "So you want us to fight him in his injured state?"

Ylva’s jaw tightened. She didn’t answer immediately.

The wind picked up, carrying the stench of the Marrow—rot, blood, and something perverse. The grey soil crunched beneath their feet. Around them, twisted trees clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers with black stone pillars leaned toward each other, forming a natural corridor that seemed to swallow the light.

This was the Bleak Marrow, a prison disguised as a wasteland. A place where criminals were dumped and forgotten, where the barrier let no one leave, and where the four lords slept in their cycles of power. The soil was grey because nothing grew here—nothing except the twisted trees and the roots that fed on despair.

"If we fight him now," Ylva said slowly, "he might not be able to kill us. But with the ant king out of commission..." She glanced at the sleeping creature on Mae’s back. "It won’t be easy. And this time, I might not survive."

Jason’s chest tightened. "Then we don’t fight him. We just need to follow him."

Ylva’s ears twitched. "Follow him where?"

"He’s the only lead we have. He knows this place and there is a chance he knows where Thalion went," Jason stepped closer to her.

"If we follow his trail, it might lead us to someone who knows where Thalion is."

Ylva stared at him and her tail flicked once.

"You’re asking me to walk into the lair of a creature that almost killed me."

"I’m asking you to trust me."

She was silent for a long moment because Jason’s ant was the very thing that saved her life, if they had killed it in the cave, this outcome would have been a lot different so listening to Jason has worked out so far. The wind howled between the pillars, somewhere in the distance, a rock fell.

"Fine," she said. "But if things go wrong—"

"They won’t," The way Jason spoke was different, he was serious now.

"You don’t know that." Ylva muttered under her breath.

Jason met her green eyes. "No. But I know we can’t leave Thalion here. And I know the watcher is our only chance to find him."

Mae cleared her throat. "For the record, I think this is insane."

"Noted." Jason started walking toward the path where the watcher’s scent lingered. "Stay close and stay quiet. And if you see something move, don’t assume it’s friendly."

Ylva fell into step beside him, her claws were extended with her ears were swiveling.

Mae followed, the ant king’s tiny chest rising and falling against her back.

The Marrow swallowed them whole.

-

The minion that was sent to observe them from the shadows noticed they were headed towards the region of one of the lords.

It had spotted Jason and the others from afar, crouched behind a jagged outcrop of black stone. Its patchy scales blended with the darkness, its too-many joints folded into a posture of patient waiting. Just as Maldred had commanded, the creature did not approach unless it absolutely had to.

Maldred needed time to assimilate the soul he had consumed while he consumed his son’s soul or at least, assimilated it.

Jason did not look threatened, his shoulders were relaxed. His hands hung at his sides. His eyes scanned the grey landscape with boredom rather than fear. He walked like someone who owned the ground beneath his feet.

"Why is he not afraid?"

The minion’s black eyes shifted to Ylva. The werewolf was close—too close for comfort. The creature could make out her race easily: lupine, predatory, evolved. But Jason was different. His scent was unfamiliar, almost like he belonged in the Marrow, yet didn’t. The minion couldn’t place him.

Unknown to the creature, Ylva’s sense of smell had grown even stronger.

The moment she had mated with Jason, her senses had begun to mature. This was why the mating ritual was so important to the werewolf clans—it was the only way they could evolve towards maturity. The bond unlocked something dormant in their blood. Their noses and overall senses improved considerable.

Ylva could smell the minion but she didn’t turn nor did she react. But she knew it was there, lurking and watching.

Jason walked on, unaware.

-

Maldred stood over his son’s headless body, his massive chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths. The warmth of Thalion’s soul spread through him like honey dissolving into hot tea—thick, sweet, potent. He closed his golden eyes and let the essence settle into his core.

But something was wrong.

He had consumed dozens of his children over the centuries. He knew the feeling of a soul integrating into his own—the familiar weight, the familiar texture. This was different. Thalion’s body had housed two souls: his own twisted spirit and the fragment of Tauriel that had been embedded in the mark on his neck.

"Two souls in one vessel."

Maldred had eaten his children too many times, the flavors blurred together. He could no longer tell with certainty which essence was his son’s and which belonged to the elven witch.

"It doesn’t matter," he told himself. "I will assimilate both."

But there was something else. A side effect he had not anticipated.

His body began to slow, his limbs grew heavy and his eyes fluttered.

"No—not now."

The lord awakening in the root-chamber had destabilized him. He had been awake for too long, cheating the natural cycle, and now his body had weakened drastically in the time the other had been awake.

But this assimilation required twelve hours, perhaps more. He would need to enter a dormant state while his body digested the two souls.

Maldred staggered to his throne. He sat down heavily, the bones creaking beneath his weight and his head lulled back with his eyes closing.

"Twelve hours. Then I will wake stronger than ever."

He did not feel his son’s consciousness stirring within him.

-

Inside the darkness of Maldred’s soul, Thalion opened his eyes.

He had no body. No hands, no feet, no face. But he was aware, he was here. His spell had worked—not as he had intended, but it had worked.

"I am inside him," He had retained his consciousness.

Thalion’s soul drifted through the void, surrounded by the echoes of his father’s memories, his power, his hunger. And there, flickering like a candle in a storm, was the fragment of Tauriel’s soul—small, foreign, struggling.

"Father will consume her first. She is weaker."

Thalion knew he had no chance of taking over his father’s body under normal circumstances but these were not normal circumstances. His father had temporarily weakened with the other lord awakening. And now, digesting two souls at once, Maldred was vulnerable and this wasn’t what Thalion had in mind but it was a blessing in disguise even though the chances of it being successful was close to 3%.

"This body will be mine,"