The first stone seal cracked, and the ground shook.
Not from force.
But from the hunger.
Smelling of spoiled wine and wet copper, the air in the buried chamber thickened.
The walls' murals, which were older than Ravenscroft's and older than Duskheir's, shed black tears where the name of the Thirsty King had been carved centuries before.
The inside of the coffin was pressed by a skeletal hand.
On the lid, five claw marks showed up.
…..
"You taste like him."
While Jarek slept, the voice slithered through his mind like oil.
The roots of the thorn throbbed black beneath his skin as his void-arm trembled.
In his dream, he found himself standing in front of a banquet table that was covered in writhing shadows and rotting fruit.
A man wearing his face sat at its head, but his features were crooked and his smile had too many teeth.
As he raised a goblet of liquid thorn, the Thirsty King hummed, "My blood runs strong in you, jailor-child. Shall we drink to your betrayal?"
Choking from the taste of turned earth, Jarek woke up.
….
Like a wolf in a cage, she paced the remains of the glass sea, her scar glimmering with the same dark light as Jarek's thorn.
"He's regaining consciousness," she hissed. "And he'll come for the children first, their scars are the keys to his prison."
Ethan's emptiness wavered.
"Why?"
Veyra had a broken laugh.
"Because the Thirsty King doesn't feed on flesh. He consumes sacrifice."
The sea trembled, showing a new horror.
The scars on the marked children's bodies are opening up like little mouths.
…..
The boy screamed when his scar split.
Not in agony, but in bliss.
Mara's remaining thornmark stung as golden light poured from the crack, carrying whispers.
Although she covered the wound with her hand, the light persisted and formed shapes in the air.
Twelve thorns encircling a cup that is empty.
A shadow wearing Jarek's face raising the vessel.
The skeleton of the Duskheir was kneeling.
The other children's scars began to weep.
…..
"We must separate them," Veyra insisted. "Before their scars finish the chant."
Ethan reached through the glass…
and failed.
Like smoke, his void-hand moved through the conscious world. The Duskheir's presence within him resisted, hissing.
"Not your role, Watcher."
Veyra squinted her eyes.
"Then whose?"
As the glass revealed to them:
Standing at the entrance to the cave, Jarek was using his void-arm to carve symbols into the rock.
The same symbols found in the tomb of the Thirsty King.
…..
Mara found him at dawn.
Jarek remained motionless.
The thorn's roots were now visible up to his shoulder, and black veins began to spiderweb across his chest as his void-arm moved with an unnatural precision.
"It's not me," he said stubbornly. "The thorn is recognizing."
Mara took a step forward. The signs were not warnings.
It was an invitation.
"Jarek," she said softly. "What did you do?"
His head jerked upright.
His eyes had turned completely black.
"What my bloodline always does," the Thirsty King replied, his lips moving. "Prepare the feast."
…..
They arrived at dusk.
With their eyes focused on the cave, they walked in perfect harmony while chanting with their scar-mouths. In his cupped hands, the first boy held something.
One petrified thorn.
Older than the Duskheirs.
Older than the stars.
The first thorn.
…..
She emerged before Ethan in a swirl of tattered robes, her scar blazing.
"The glass sea was never your prison," she growled. "It was your armory."
She stabbed him in the chest…
and pulled, revealing the actual shape of the void-blade.
Not a weapon.
A key.
….
Mara's scar was burning as she stood between the kids and the cave.
Jarek, or the thing that wore his skin, grinned.
The Thirsty King said, "Will you sacrifice them to stop me?" "Or sacrifice yourself?"
The first boy raised the ancient thorn.
The mouth of the cave screamed.
And from the depths of the glass sea, Ethan stabbed the key into his chest.