Chapter 118: A Child? [FIXED!][22/06!]
Tauriel lay motionless on the marble floor, her body cold and pale, her eyes rolled back into her skull. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, irregular gasps, each breath a struggle. The blood circle that the queen had drawn around her glowed faintly, pulsing with a rhythm that matched Tauriel’s failing heartbeat.
The queen knelt beside her, her hand pressed against Tauriel’s forehead. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving in a chant that was barely audible. She had been trying to sever the soul tie for what felt like hours—the fragment of Tauriel’s essence that had been consumed by something far greater.
But something was wrong.
The queen’s brow furrowed. Her chanting slowed as her fingers pressed deeper into Tauriel’s skin.
"Impossible," she whispered.
The elves around her exchanged nervous glances. They had been ordered to stand back, to remain silent, to trust their queen’s judgment. But the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut.
"My queen?" one of them ventured, her voice trembling. "What is happening?"
The queen did not answer immediately. She was searching—probing the depths of Tauriel’s soul, tracing the threads of magic that bound her to the fragment. And there, tangled in the web, she found something unexpected.
A second tie. Faint and new but it was unmistakable.
The queen’s eyes snapped open. Her hand recoiled from Tauriel’s forehead as if burned.
"She is with child," the queen said.
Silence.
The elves stared at her, their faces frozen in shock. One of them shook her head slowly. "That is not possible. Tauriel’s body—she cannot conceive. She told us herself. She has been incapable for centuries."
"I know what she told you." The queen’s voice was sharp, cutting through their disbelief. "But I also know what I sense. There is a life within her. Small, but present. And it is interfering with my magic."
The elves exchanged horrified glances. A few of them stepped back, as if the revelation was contagious. Tauriel, the cold and calculating ruler who had tortured male elves for decades, was pregnant.
And that pregnancy was the only thing keeping her alive.
"The child," the queen continued, her voice low and urgent, "is the only thing tethering her soul to this world. The fragment that was consumed—it is linked to this child. If I sever the soul tie, the child will be severed as well. And she will die."
One of the elves stepped forward, her face pale. "Then what do we do?"
The queen did not answer. She rose to her feet, her white robes pooling around her, and turned to face the gathered elves. Her eyes swept across them, cold and commanding.
"Spill your blood into this cup," she said, holding up a silver vessel that had appeared from within her robes. "Each of you. I need enough to sustain her until the tie can be redirected."
The elves hesitated. Their hands trembled at their sides. They had seen dark magic before—whispers of it, rumors of it. But never like this. Never in front of them.
"My queen," one of them whispered, "what you are asking—"
"I am asking you to save one of your our own." The queen’s voice was ice. "Or would you rather watch her die?"
One by one, they stepped forward. Each elf drew a blade and sliced her finger. Blood dripped into the silver cup, thick and dark. They passed the vessel among themselves, each one contributing until the cup was nearly full.
The queen took the cup and knelt beside Tauriel. She tilted the vessel to Tauriel’s lips and poured the blood down her throat.
The room fell silent.
The queen began to chant again—different words this time, harsher and more violent. The ground beneath them began to glow. The queen’s body trembled, her face contorting in pain.
"W-What are you doing?" one of the elves asked, her voice cracking.
The queen’s eyes were squeezed shut. Sweat beaded on her brow. "The child is interfering with my magic. I am trying to redirect the tie—to anchor her soul through the child rather than the fragment." She paused, gasping. "But the child is not fully formed. It cannot carry the weight of her soul alone."
The elves watched in horror as the queen’s body began to weaken. Her hands shook. Her voice faltered.
"The child," the queen said, her voice barely a whisper, "is the only thing keeping her tethered. If I stop now, they both will die."
-
Maldred reached for his son’s soul.
His massive hand closed around the essence that had been hiding from him, the fragment of consciousness that had burrowed deep into the void. Thalion’s soul trembled in his grip, fragile and desperate. Maldred grinned, his eyes blazing with hunger.
"Finally. After centuries of waiting, I will consume him completely."
He was about to reach new heights in terms of power. His son had spent decades in the outside world, gathering knowledge, experiencing cultures, learning the ways of creatures beyond the Marrow. That information alone was valuable beyond measure.
But this wasn’t all, Thalion’s soul carried something else.
The moment his will closed around his son’s essence, the soul he had already consumed began to fight back.
Tauriel’s soul.
The fragment he had devoured—the piece of the elven witch that had been embedded in Thalion’s neck—suddenly convulsed within him. It lashed out, a wild and desperate force that he had not expected. Maldred’s concentration wavered. His grip on Thalion loosened for a fraction of a second.
"What is this?"
Maldred had consumed hundred of souls. He had devoured his own children, his enemies, the countless creatures that had wandered into the Marrow. None of them had ever resisted him like this. None of them had fought back.
But Tauriel’s soul was not alone.
It carried a fragment of yet another soul—the baby. The child that had been growing inside Tauriel, the life that had been conceived in a moment of passion and had taken root against all odds. That tiny, unborn soul was now fighting him with a ferocity that belied its size.
And it wasn’t Tauriel’s soul causing the problem.
It was the child. Responding to something or rather, searching for something.
Maldred felt it the moment the child’s soul reached out—not toward him, but toward the presence outside his body. Toward the one who had created it. The one whose essence had been the catalyst for its existence.
Jason’s soul.
The baby was trying to reach its father.
Maldred stumbled backwards. His massive frame crashed into his throne, the bones splintering beneath his weight. His head went blank for a moment, the assault so unexpected that his consciousness flickered like a dying flame.
There is no way a baby can cause this much damage to someone like him but it was enough to momentarily disrupt his mental state as consumption of the soul was a delicate process in itself.
The highest form of magic in existence.
But it had created a discrepancy. A crack in his defenses. A moment of vulnerability that had not existed before.
Thalion felt it.
The brief loosening of his father’s grip, the momentary confusion that had swept through the void. He seized the opportunity without hesitation, pushing his consciousness forward, forcing his will into the empty space.
For a brief moment, Thalion took control of his father’s body.
His eyes—still golden, and vibrant—locked onto Jason. His voice, when it came, was strained and desperate.
"Jason! Listen to me!"
Jason’s head snapped up. He had been preparing for another attack, his fists clenched, his barrier flickering. But the voice that came from Maldred’s mouth was not the voice of the giant.
It was Thalion.
"Thalion?" Jason’s eyes widened. "What—"
"There’s no time!" Thalion’s voice was urgent, barely holding on. "My brother—the one my father consumed before I was born—he found a way to trap him. He told me before he faded."
Jason’s mind raced. "A way to trap him? How? Your father?" Jason had so many questions.
Thalion’s form flickered, his control slipping. "Three things. A vessel of pure blood. A sacrifice of equal power. And a catalyst from outside the Marrow." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "You’re the catalyst, Jason. You’re from outside. You don’t belong here. That’s why you can do what no one else can."
Jason stared at him. "What would happen to you?"
Thalion hesitated. "I would need a new body. This one is lost to me. But if it means stopping him, it’s worth it."
Before Jason could respond, Maldred’s roar shook the chamber.
The giant’s will surged forward, crushing Thalion’s consciousness back into the void. Maldred’s golden eyes blazed with fury. His massive frame straightened.
"You will not take my body," Maldred snarled. "Not now, not ever."
Jason braced himself. The battle was far from over.
Maldred lunged forward, it was time to put an end to this.
His massive fist hurtled toward Jason’s face, fast enough to shatter stone. The air itself seemed to compress around the impact, a shockwave rippling outward before the blow even landed. Jason’s body couldn’t keep up—Maldred was faster, stronger, his movements blurred by centuries of combat experience, his reflexes honed through countless battles and countless consumed souls.
But Jason’s eyes had already adjusted.
He saw the strike coming. He saw the trajectory, the angle, the exact point of impact. And before his body could react, his branches did. A thick root erupted from the ground, wrapping around Jason’s waist and yanking him sideways with brutal efficiency. Maldred’s fist slammed into empty air, cratering the stone where Jason had been standing. Dust exploded upward. Chunks of rock sprayed across the chamber like shrapnel.
The giant didn’t pause.
He pivoted, his other hand sweeping toward Jason’s chest in a brutal backhand that would have caved in a lesser creature’s ribs. The force behind it was immense—enough to pulverize stone, enough to send a normal man flying through multiple walls. Jason’s barrier flared to life just in time.
The blow connected.
The barrier held—but just barely. Cracks spiderwebbed across its shimmering surface, glowing faintly before sealing themselves. Jason felt the impact reverberate through his entire frame, rattling his teeth, sending a shockwave through his bones. His ears rang. His vision blurred for a split second.
T-Too strong. I cannot take another blow!"
He retaliated. A cluster of branches shot from the walls, thick and sharp, aimed at Maldred’s torso and throat. The giant swatted them aside like they were nothing, his massive arms cleaving through the wood with contemptuous ease. Splinters flew in every direction. But the branches had served their purpose—they had bought Jason a precious second.
He closed the distance.
His fist flew toward Maldred’s ribs, aiming for a gap in his armor-like skin. The giant caught his punch with one hand and squeezed. Pain lanced through Jason’s knuckles, white-hot and blinding. He felt bones grind together, felt the pressure threatening to crush his hand into pulp.
But he didn’t pull back.
He swung his other fist. Maldred caught that one too, his massive fingers wrapping around Jason’s knuckles like steel cables. The giant’s grip tightened, and Jason felt his hands begin to go numb.
"I am surprised you lasted this long," Maldred growled, his golden eyes burning with contempt. His grip tightened further. "But this is where it ends."
"I’m not done yet," Jason snarled.
He kicked upward.
His foot connected with Maldred’s jaw—a clean strike, powered by everything he had left. The giant’s head snapped back. His grip loosened. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as Maldred’s jawbone fractured under the force. Ichor sprayed from his chin. And Maldred flew backward, crashing through the wall behind him with a thunderous impact. Stone crumbled. Dust billowed outward, choking the air.
Jason landed on his feet, breathing hard. His hands throbbed. His barrier was flickering, barely holding together. Blood dripped from his knuckles where Maldred’s grip had nearly crushed them.
Maldred rose from the rubble. His jaw was cracked, blood dripping from his chin. He worked his jaw, testing the damage. His golden eyes locked onto Jason with something that looked like amusement.
"Interesting," he said.
