Devouring Hollow Hearts || ONC'24

》Chapter Six《

Ice flushed through Chyrie's veins as she looked from the broken guard to her abyssal savior.

Xiran stooped down, examining Kenall's body and checking for a pulse before he gripped the back of his leather armor and dragged him from the mine. In one smooth motion he discarded his remains on top of the second guard– a man whose name she never heard.

Chyrie's gut rolled with tension, a mixture of fear and gratitude warring for dominance in the pit of her stomach.

"I thought you went to Courmasse?"

"I did," he said without turning. Instead, Xiran rummaged through the guard's packs and pulled out any food or supplies he deemed suitable and set them aside. "Courmasse is heavily guarded."

Chyrie opened her mouth to protest his ransacking – supplies meant for her – but Xiran scooped up the clothes and brought them into the cave. He was methodical, neatly folding the top fabric, and growing frustrated with the flowing pants that wouldn't lay flat. Setting the fresh selection onto her bedroll, he left for the food.

She couldn't keep her mouth closed, words nothing more than ghosts on her tongue.

"H-how?"

"Anryth's men," he answered, his oceanic side-eye hinting at the small smirk on his lips. "They're stationed near each gate. No one in, no one out."

"He's taken the whole city hostage," she murmured to herself. "You couldn't get in then?"

Xiran shook his head. "No, not without endangering lives."

Chyrie glanced toward the two bodies piled beneath the cliff face. "You seem to regard life highly."

"I do," he answered, eyes narrowing. "But in my country, your life becomes forfeit when you take another."

"How does that prevent further death?"

Xiran sighed, pivoting to face her. "It becomes forfeit but that doesn't mean you are a deadman. Only that you may call for a Rite and claim something of equal value."

"What is a life worth?" Chyrie growled.

"That depends," he answered softly, returning to a package of bread, some sealed beef, and bottled wine. "I've seen men take advantage of women and lose their favorite appendage."

Chyrie's cheeks heated at the implication.

Xiran carried the supplies into the mine and lined them up against the caves naturally shelving, careful to avoid any exposed magma channels. He swept the surface off with the sleeve of his jacket and continued to organize them.

"So, people must weigh the future against the present? The consequences of their actions?"

He nodded. "It worked for us."

"And where are your people now?"

Xiran's body went rigged. He froze with a canister of peas in his hand, jaw working itself as he prepared his answer.

"Dead."

Chyrie's mouth dried out instantly.

She couldn't grapple whether she'd overstepped or risked upsetting him, watching carefully as he resumed looting the guards.

Xiran offered nothing else, snapping his fingers away from his chest. A horned head appeared from the rock face beneath them, the sunlight revealing flowing whiskers, and a lengthy body coiling upward.

Chyrie stared in awe as Xiran's dragon came into view, dagger-esque claws gripping onto the ledge with brutal force.

She held her breath as the beast tipped its head to the side and scorched the bodies in one sweeping exhale.