Chapter 122: Where is your daughter?

The flickering light from the torches licked across the stone walls, throwing long, skeletal shadows that writhed as though the cave itself were alive. Victoria stood unmoving for a heartbeat, her pale eyes locked on Selith.

"At least you know what’s at stake," Victoria said at last, her voice even and sharp, like a knife dragged along glass. The faint trace of amusement in her tone was gone, replaced by something colder, older. "You may be reckless, Selith, but you are not a fool. You understand the weight of what we’re doing."

Selith tilted her head, as she stirred the simmering cauldron beside her. "I understand far more than you imagine, my Luna." Her milky eyes glimmered faintly in the firelight. "But tell me... have you found your daughter yet?"

The question cut through the air like a blade. The flames nearest to Victoria hissed, shrinking low as if retreating from her sudden stillness. She turned her gaze slowly toward the old priestess.

"My daughter?" Victoria repeated, the words flat and dangerous. "Why do you ask about her? You told me you didn’t need her and that her blood was enough."

Selith’s thin lips curled upward, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "And it is," she rasped. "Blood carries memory. Blood carries power. Through it, we can draw what we need. But still..." She leaned closer to the cauldron, watching the red liquid swirl as though it were alive. "It would be better if she were here. Just in case."

"Just in case," Victoria echoed dryly, then let out a slow sigh. She moved away from the altar, her gold bangles whispering faintly with her motion. "Too bad it seems my daughter is very good at hiding. We’ve searched every settlement from the riverlands to the coast, but there’s not a trace of her. Either she’s dead, or she’s clever enough to make it seem so."

Selith gave a low hum, a sound that could have been pity or admiration or both. "A daughter of yours would not die so easily," she murmured. "The blood of your line carries too much ambition for that." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Victoria’s jaw tightened. "Ambition is not what runs through her," she said quietly. "It’s mine. My power. My gift. She was only ever its vessel."

Selith’s cracked lips twitched upward. "And yet you speak of her as though she still possesses it."

"She does," Victoria said sharply, her pale eyes flashing. "But not for long. What she has belongs to me. It was mine from the beginning, and I will not let it rot in the hands of a child who does not even understand what she carries."

For a moment, the only sound was the bubbling of the cauldron and the low whisper of the torches. Then Selith gave a raspy chuckle.

Her eyes lifted to meet Victoria’s, sharp despite their cloudiness. "Power is a circle, my dear. You would do well not to forget who stands beside you in it."

Victoria’s response was a cold, mirthless smile. "I never forget," she said softly. "Not the living, and not the dead."

She moved toward the far side of the chamber, where the torches burned lower. A carved shelf of obsidian jutted from the wall, covered in scrolls sealed with red wax. She touched one absentmindedly, running her finger down the sigil burned into the wax, her family’s crest, warped into something darker, unrecognizable to the faithful.

Without looking back, she asked, "What of the Skylur?"

Selith glanced up, amused by the sudden shift in tone. "What of it?"

Victoria turned, her gaze cool. "You said the process requires one. But tell me, who in their right mind would even attempt to hunt such a creature? No one alive could defeat one, not without losing half their men."

A dry chuckle escaped Selith. "You’d be surprised what desperation will drive people to do. The black markets are full of impossible things. There’s nothing you can’t find if you know where to look."

Victoria arched a brow. "You’re speaking of the northern black markets again, aren’t you? The ones operating under the Enclave’s nose?"

Selith nodded slowly. "Yes. And there’s one trader in particular who can acquire anything, for the right price." She paused, letting the silence stretch. "He calls himself the Owl."

"The Owl?" Victoria repeated, the name curling from her tongue with faint disdain. "How poetic."

"He’s not poetic," Selith said. "He’s dangerous. I’ve never seen his face, but his reach is long. If there is a Skylur to be sold, alive, dead, or in parts, he will know where."

Victoria hummed, her mind already calculating. "Then I’ll have my men find him."

"Be careful," Selith warned. "He doesn’t like being hunted."

Victoria smiled faintly. "Then I won’t hunt him. I’ll make him come to me."

Selith watched her in silence as she moved to the center of the chamber. The flickering flames caught on the gold threads of her gown, turning her silhouette into that of a goddess draped in shadow. "I didn’t come here to argue," Victoria said finally. "I only came to check your progress."

"You always say that," Selith murmured, stirring the cauldron once more. "And yet every visit ends with a threat or a promise."

Victoria smirked. "Then I’m consistent."

She turned toward the arched stone passage that led out of the chamber, her bare feet making no sound against the cold floor. "I have to attend a meeting with the Enclave," she said without looking back. "They’re getting restless. This plague is killing too many of their own for them to keep pretending it’s under control."

Selith’s mouth twisted into a thin, knowing smile. "A plague you caused."

Victoria paused mid-step, her head tilting slightly to the side. Then she glanced back over her shoulder, a slow, venomous smile curving her lips. "No," she said softly. "It’s a plague we caused."

Selith laughed loudly, the sound echoing across the chamber as Victoria left.