Chapter 117: The Lords Are Waking Up! [FIXED!][20/06!]
Deep beneath the Bleak Marrow, in tombs carved from obsidian and ancient runes, the other two lords stirred.
Their slumber had been undisturbed for centuries—longer than any living creature could remember. They had slept while Maldred cheated the cycle, consuming his own children to remain awake. They had slept while the lord of vines transferred his power to Jason, weakening himself to escape the barrier’s notice. They had slept while the Marrow’s foundation cracked and shifted beneath the weight of so many violations.
But now, they were waking.
In the eastern tomb, a figure wrapped in chains of frozen shadow began to move. Its form was indistinct, shifting between solid and mist, its body a void that swallowed light. Pale, spectral eyes burned within the darkness—two pinpricks of cold fire that had not opened in generations. The chains that bound it were not meant to restrain, they were meant to contain. To prevent its power from leaking into the Marrow above. Each link was etched with runes older than the elves, designed to hold back the tide of nothingness that dwelled within.
This was the Shade Lord.
In the western tomb, a creature of molten stone and endless heat cracked its shell. Its body was a fusion of rock and lava, veins of fire pulsing beneath its surface like the heartbeat of a dying star. The ground around it was scorched black, the air thick with the smell of sulfur and ash. It had not moved in generations, but now its massive fingers curled, its joints grinding like tectonic plates shifting against each other. Its eyes—two pits of liquid fire—flickered open.
This was the Ember King.
Their movements were synchronized.
Despite being separated by miles of stone and soil, they shifted at the same moment. A twitch here. A breath there. The grinding of ancient joints echoing through the dark like distant thunder. Their awakening was not random, it was a response. The barrier was failing, and they could feel it—a tremor in the fabric of the Marrow itself.
All of them were waking simultaneously.
And this would spell trouble for the Marrow as a whole. The barrier was already unstable. The lords had been designed to sleep in cycles—never all at once. Their combined power, if fully roused, would tear the Marrow apart. The very ground would split. The barrier would shatter. Criminals would flood out into the world.
And these weren’t your average criminals either, these were creatures thought to be extinct.
The Shade Lord’s chains rattled.
The Ember King’s fire flared.
The Marrow trembled.
-
The cocoon dissolved around them.
Mae and Ylva stumbled forward as the roots that had held them captive crumbled to dust. The dome that Jason had erected, the barrier that had kept them safe and contained, had vanished the moment his attention shifted to Maldred. They were free—but freedom felt hollow, empty, like standing on the edge of a cliff with no way down.
Mae’s hooves scraped against the grey soil. Her brown eyes darted across the wasteland, searching for any sign of Jason, any indication of what was happening on the battlefield ahead. The ground trembled beneath them. Distant roars echoed through the ruins, shaking loose dust and small stones from the broken pillars that surrounded them.
"Ylva," Mae said, her voice tight with fear, "what do we do? What can we possibly do?"
Ylva’s ears were flat against her skull. Her claws were extended, but they hung uselessly at her sides. Her green eyes were fixed on the horizon, where shadows danced and stone cracked under the weight of something unfamiliar and terrible.
"I don’t know," Ylva admitted, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know what we can do."
The truth was bitter and undeniable. What lay ahead was beyond their league. Jason was fighting a lord—a being that had existed for generations, that had cheated the cycle of the Marrow for centuries, that had grown strong enough to challenge the other lords themselves. They would be nothing more than obstacles if they joined the fight. Jason would have to split his focus, worry about protecting them while fighting for his life.
"Jason was right. If we joined, we would only get in the way." Ylva thought to herself.
Mae’s gaze dropped to the ant king in her arms. His tiny form was still, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rhythmic breaths. His missing arm had not regrown. His chitin was dull, his eyes closed. His hibernation was deep.
But if there was a way to wake him—a way to replenish his energy—he could assist Jason. Despite the battle being on a completely different scale than the cave crawl, the ant king stood the best chance of providing any sort of decent help. He had evolved. He had healed Ylva’s fatal wound but also killed the queen that had been such a menace.
Mae dug through her bags. Her fingers closed around a small bottle—her milk. The same milk that had healed Ylva, that had given Jason strength. She had attempted this before, but there had not been much of it. The ant king had not responded.
But now, she poured the remaining liquid into his mouth.
"Please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Wake up. He needs you."
The ant king did not respond. His chest continued its slow rise and fall, his body refusing to stir.
But Mae and Ylva hoped. They hoped that Jason’s life being in danger—the bond between them, the connection that had made the ant king sacrifice himself—could trigger some sort of urgency within him. They hoped that he would wake before it was too late.
Ylva took a deep breath.
The air was cold and sharp, carrying the scent of dust and the distant roar of battle. The ground trembled beneath her paws. Somewhere ahead, stone cracked and roots screamed. She could feel it in her bones—the weight of what was coming.
She realized in that moment that she had no other choice.
This could very well be the last battle Jason ever fought. Jason was powerful—more powerful than she had ever imagined—but he was still mortal. Still flesh and bone. Still capable of dying. And if this was going to be his last battle, Ylva did not want him to die alone.
She wanted to be by his side as he took his last breath. She wanted to look into his eyes, to hold his hand, to tell him that he was not alone. She wanted to die with him if that was what it came to. The thought did not terrify her. It brought her a strange sense of peace.
Ylva resigned herself to death.
She turned to Mae, her green eyes steady and calm. "I’m going ahead."
Mae’s brown eyes widened. Her hooves scraped against the stone. Her hands clutched the ant king’s sleeping form tighter against her chest. "Ylva, wait—you can’t! There’s nothing you can do! Jason was right, you’ll only get in the way!"
"I know."
That single sentence hung in the air between them. Mae stared at her, searching for hesitation, for doubt, for anything that might make Ylva reconsider.
There was nothing.
Ylva was very well aware of the risk. She knew she could not match a lord’s power, the encounter with the lord of vines was proof of that.
She knew she would likely die. She knew her claws would be useless against a being tnat had immeasurable power, a being she had no idea could exist. She knew all of this, and she was going anyway.
In that moment, she was willing to die for Jason. She had already seen him almost die once. She had felt the cold grip of death pull him away from her. She would not let it happen again without her being there, without her fighting beside him, without her sharing his fate.
Mae had always been a coward. She had admitted it to herself many times. She had never built emotional connections with guild members because it was easier that way—easier to leave, easier to survive, easier to pretend that nothing mattered.
But seeing Ylva, watching her sacrifice herself, made Mae feel something she had not felt in a long time.
Connection.
"I know what happened," Mae said quietly, her voice trembling. "During the fight with the watcher. Jason snapped when he saw you critically wounded. He lost control. He became something else. Something that terrified me."
Ylva’s lips curled into a faint smile. "I know. Jason is a terrible liar. He tried to hide it from me, but I could see it in his eyes. The way he moved. The power he used." She paused, her smile fading. "He became that way because of me. Because he thought I was dying. And now I don’t know what he would do if something did happen to Thalion."
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"I won’t let him face that alone. Not again."
Mae’s throat tightened and her eyes became teary. She wanted to argue, to grab Ylva’s arm and drag her back. But she couldn’t. Because she understood.
Love was not logical. Love did not care about survival. Love made you do stupid, reckless, beautiful things that could get you killed.
But that was exactly what made it worth it.
"Then go," Mae said, her voice cracking. "I’ll try to wake the ant king. If I can do that—if I can wake him up—I’ll send him to you."
Ylva nodded. "That’s all I need from you. Try to wake him. And if you can’t..."
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Before Mae could speak, Ylva turned and charged toward Jason’s direction.
Her paws pounded against the grey soil. Her claws extended. Her ears were flat against her skull. Her tail was rigid. She was running toward death on all fours with a smile on her face.
And she did not look back.
Ylva ran, she used her nose and in that moment of emotional distress, the total resignation to dying with the one she loves.
Ylva’s sense further evolved but the truth was, Thalion’s scent had faintly entered her nostrils.
The reason she suddenly decided to go to Jason was because she had recognized this.
"Thalion is dead,"
-
Thalion watched through his father’s eyes.
The battle raged before him—Jason, small and desperate, throwing everything he had against Maldred’s overwhelming power. Roots erupted from the ground. Barriers shattered like glass. The earth cracked and split under the weight of their clash. But Maldred stood untouched, his eyes cold and patient, his iron-grey skin unmarred by Jason’s attacks.
"He is going to kill him."
The thought echoed through Thalion’s consciousness like a death knell, reverberating through the void where his soul was trapped. Jason was strong—stronger than he had any right to be—but Maldred was ancient and absolute.
Thalion’s father had allowed him to witness this. To watch the inevitable. To understand the cost of his defiance.
"You cannot stop me," Maldred’s voice rumbled through the void, deep and cold. "But you can save him."
Thalion’s soul trembled. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." Maldred’s presence pressed against him, suffocating, overwhelming. "Give your soul to me willingly. Stop resisting. And I will let him live."
Thalion’s mind raced. He thought of the sibling’s words—the vessel of pure blood, the sacrifice of equal power, the catalyst from outside the Marrow. He had an idea of how to trap his father, but time was running out. There was no time to execute the plan. No time to gather what he needed.
Jason’s scream echoed through the void.
Thalion closed his eyes as his soul trembled. He thought of Jason’s kindness, his stubbornness, his refusal to give up. He thought of the moment Jason had freed him from the dungeon, had treated him like a person, had shown him mercy when no one else would.
"I accept," Thalion said, his voice barely a whisper. "You can take my soul. But do not kill Jason."
Maldred smiled. His voice was soft, almost gentle.
"That is a wise choice, my son."
