Rika turned to Kale. “How the hells are we supposed to get Rothgar over there?” She gestured toward the direction they came from. “That guy barely listened to us last time, and now we’re supposed to convince him to come here willingly?”

  Kale scratched his head. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “We’ll have to be direct. Rothgar’s not the type to respond to subtlety. If we tell him there’s a way to save his daughter, that might be enough,” Liliana said.

  Rika snorted. “And when he realizes we’re dragging him into a ritual that might kill him? I’m sure he’ll love that.”

  Kale sighed. “We don’t have much of a choice. It’s either this, or the curse stays, and if the curse stays, Rothgar stays.”

  “We tell him the truth,” Liliana said. “That this is his only chance to free his daughter. If he doesn’t want to come, he’ll doom her. Rothgar may be a beast, but he’s not a coward.”

  Rika grumbled, shifting her warhammer on her shoulder. “I just don’t see him playing along nicely.”

  Kale nodded. “He won’t like it. But we’re not asking. We’re telling him this is his last chance.”

  Rika chuckled. “Good luck with that speech.”

  Kale glanced at Liliana. “You’ve got any better ideas?”

  Liliana tilted her head slightly. “No. But I think if we’re direct, and we offer him what he wants, he’ll come. His daughter’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. That’s our leverage.”

  Kale nodded. “Then we go back to Dreadstone and tell Rothgar the truth. If he agrees, we’ll bring him here for the ritual.”

  Rika sighed. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t decide to kill us when we tell him.”

  ***

  The journey back to Dreadstone was filled with unspoken tension. Rika, Kale, and Liliana all understood that facing Rothgar wouldn’t be straightforward. As they approached, the fortress loomed high above them, a silent reminder of the gravity of what lay ahead.

  As they approached the gates, Rika spoke up, breaking the silence. “So, how do we even start? ‘Hey Rothgar, we need you, and by the way, bring your cursed daughter along for the ride?’” She tried to inject some humor, but the tension was still palpable.

  “We don’t have any other choice,” Kale said. “We tell him the truth. If we’re going to break the curse, both Rothgar and his daughter need to be there. We don’t lie, and we don’t hide the risks.”

  Liliana nodded in agreement. “Rothgar doesn’t strike me as the type to tolerate deception. We lay it all out—his daughter’s presence is necessary for the ritual, and we tell him what’s at stake.”

  They entered the fortress, this time with less suspicion from the guards, though they still gave them stares. Rothgar was already waiting for them in his throne room, his eyes glowing faintly with the power that radiated from him.

  Kale stepped forward. “We’ve found a way to lift the curse. But we need your daughter.”

  Rothgar’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll explain.”

  Liliana moved beside Kale, her voice calm but firm. “The curse is bound to her, and you’ve been using your life force to keep her alive. In order to break it, both of you need to be present at the ritual site. We spoke to the Izawac—they agreed to lift the curse, but there are risks.”

  “And what are these risks?” Rothgar asked.

  Kale hesitated but pushed forward. “The ritual could weaken you. Maybe even kill you.”

  Rothgar’s expression didn’t waver, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made Kale’s skin crawl. “And if I refuse?”

  Liliana, unfazed, continued. “Then she will stay cursed forever, or until you die, and then she will die. Your daughter will never be free, and neither will you.”

  Kale added bluntly, “You’re strong, Rothgar, but this curse is stronger than you. If you want a real shot at breaking free, at saving her, you need to come with us. Both of you.”

  “You’re telling me to risk both of our lives on your word?”

  “We’re not your enemies, Rothgar,” Kale said. “But if you don’t do this, the curse will keep her bound forever. You’ve done everything you can to keep her alive, but this is her only chance to truly live.”

  Slowly, Rothgar rose from his throne, towering over them, his presence dark and menacing. “Very well. I will come. And I will bring her.”

  He stepped closer, each footstep heavy, the ground seeming to tremble beneath him. His eyes bore into Kale’s with an intensity that made the hair on his neck stand up. “If this is a trick, if you so much as allow the faintest whisper of harm to touch her, if even a single strand of her hair falls out of place because of you, I will show you what pain truly is. Not the fleeting agony of broken flesh, but the slow, merciless unraveling of everything you are. I will tear you apart piece by piece, until there is nothing left but a hollow, screaming shell. And then, I’ll hunt down everything you’ve ever loved, everything you’ve ever valued, and burn it to ash while you watch. I will scorch your name from the fabric of memory, so completely that even the gods will forget you existed. You’ll be nothing—no legacy, no whispers, no trace. Only silence, where you once stood.”

  He leaned closer to Kale. “Do you understand me?”

  Kale swallowed hard, Rothgar’s words pressing down on him, but he stood his ground. “I understand.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Oh, and come unarmed,” Liliana added, glancing at Rothgar. “So the Izawac won’t see you as a threat... hopefully.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Rothgar stared at her, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of something—amusement, or perhaps annoyance. He said nothing in response.

  Rika leaned into Kale and whispered, “Yeah, like that’s gonna make a difference. He’s a threat, with or without a weapon.”

  Kale nodded, unable to disagree. Rothgar didn’t need a weapon to strike fear into anyone who crossed his path.

  ***

  As they approached the Izawac stronghold, the tension in the air was palpable. Rothgar walked with his daughter in his arms, her body limp, her pale face framed by loose strands of hair as she remained locked in her deep, cursed sleep. The sight of her only seemed to amplify the dark aura radiating from Rothgar, his every step heavy with restrained fury.

  As they reached the entrance, the Izawac guards, upon seeing Rothgar, went deathly still. Eyes widened in horror, whispers spread like wildfire. The guards gripped their weapons tighter, unsure whether to defend or flee. Some of them began to back away, visibly shaking, uncertain how to face the Butcher of Izokharn.

  Kale could feel the air thicken with fear. Even Liliana and Rika exchanged uneasy glances, the tension rising as Rothgar’s presence seemed to weigh down on everyone. The stronghold doors opened with a groan, and inside, the Izawac were waiting, but all eyes were on Rothgar.

  They parted like a tide as he entered, his presence enough to force them aside without so much as a gesture. His hulking frame, clad in dark, thick plate armor, dominated the gathered onlookers. The silence left in his wake was not merely an absence of sound; it was a vacuum that seemed to pull at the edges of their courage, an almost physical pressure that made their breaths catch and their hearts race. The weight of his reputation bore down on them all, an invisible hand squeezing the air from their lungs.

  He was the Butcher, the Savage, the force no one dared to defy. Every step he took toward the stronghold’s heart seemed to echo louder than the last, not in sound, but in the tension it drew from the crowd. When they finally reached Bihiro’s chambers, it felt like the room shrank around him, the space narrowing with each footfall, until all that remained was him, his reputation, and the raw, unrelenting fear he brought with him. Those who watched didn’t just feel dread, they felt their own insignificance in the face of a legend that towered over them, swallowing their hope whole.

  Bihiro stood, waiting, but his usual smugness was absent. Instead, his face was more cautious, more controlled, though the flicker of fear in his eyes was impossible to hide as Rothgar loomed before him.

  “You said you would lift the curse. I’m here. Do it.” Rothgar said.

  Bihiro’s eyes flicked to Rothgar’s daughter, still unconscious in his arms, then back to Rothgar’s glowing, menacing gaze. He swallowed, stepping forward slowly, as if one wrong move might unleash the same fury that had slaughtered his people.

  “We’ll begin at dusk,” Bihiro said. “But know this—once the ritual begins, there is no turning back.”

  Rothgar’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve waited long enough. Do what you promised, or there will be consequences.”

  Bihiro nodded slowly, his face remaining composed, but beneath the surface he wondered, will Rothgar stay true to his word?

  ***

  As the light began to wane, the clearing outside the stronghold took on a muted, almost dreamlike quality. Shapes blurred at the edges, the dimming twilight lending the scene an air of quiet anticipation. Stone pillars, ancient and worn, encircled the area, and strange symbols had been carved into the ground, remnants of an older magic, ancient and unsettling.

  The wind whispered through the trees as the Izawac gathered at a distance, their eyes locked on the dark figure of Rothgar as he stood, cradling his comatose daughter in his arms. Even unarmed, his presence dominated the clearing, a force of nature ready to unleash fury at the first sign of betrayal.

  Kale, Rika, and Liliana stood nearby, each on edge, watching as Bihiro and the Izawac elders moved to prepare the ritual. The sky above darkened, the last rays of sunlight disappearing as twilight settled in.

  Liliana’s voice was soft as she glanced toward Rothgar. “Even without a weapon in his hand, he’s enough to make anyone here tremble.”

  Rika nodded, her warhammer resting on her shoulder as she surveyed the scene. “His scowl’s probably classified as a deadly weapon in at least three provinces.”

  Kale said nothing, his eyes fixed on Rothgar and his daughter. The curse that had bound Rothgar and his daughter for so long was within reach of being undone, but the risks were staggering. Rothgar’s unrelenting fury, his desperate need to free his child, and the looming uncertainties of the ritual left no margin for error.

  As Bihiro stepped forward, his expression cautious, he gestured for Rothgar to lay his daughter in the center of the ritual circle. Rothgar hesitated for a moment, watching every move the Izawac made. He knelt carefully, laying her down on the ground, his expression hard, warning of what would come if anything went wrong.

  The ritual’s energy surged, a powerful force that crackled through the air like lightning waiting to strike. The wind picked up, howling like a distant storm, and the ground beneath their feet began to shudder, tremors spreading outward from the glowing circle. Rothgar stood at the edge, his eyes locked on his daughter’s still form, but something was changing.

  The symbols etched into the ground, ancient runes that thrummed with long-forgotten power, began to glow brighter, pulsing with a strange, rhythmic light. It was no longer just a faint glow, it burned like fire beneath the earth. The energy within the circle expanded, swelling as if the earth was preparing to tear itself apart.

  Rothgar’s muscles tensed, his hands clenching into fists as the intensity of the ritual increased. The temperature around them dropped, a sudden chill biting at their skin as the arcane magic reached its peak. Sparks of light began to shoot off the glowing symbols, arcing through the air like wild, untamed electricity, snapping and cracking.

  A violent pulse of energy shot through the circle, rippling outward like a shockwave. Rothgar staggered back as he fought to keep his balance. The runes beneath his daughter flickered, then flared with a brilliant, almost blinding light. For a split second, the entire clearing was bathed in the searing glow, white-hot, intense, and all-encompassing.

  The ground shook harder, cracks beginning to form in the stone around the circle, jagged lines racing outward as if the earth was being torn apart from within. Rothgar’s daughter remained motionless, her body at the center of the storm, untouched by the chaos around her.

  Kale felt the raw magic in the air. He could hear the hum of the ritual deep in his bones, the rhythm of the chanting growing louder, faster, as if time itself was being stretched thin. It was as though the ritual was pulling at something—something deep, something ancient—and whatever it was, it was fighting back.

  Liliana’s eyes glinted as she watched the energy swirl, her lips moving in silent calculation.

  Rika, standing nearby, gripped her warhammer tightly, her usual bravado replaced with tension. Even she could feel it—the ritual was on the brink of either working or collapsing entirely.

  The sky above darkened further, storm clouds gathering unnaturally fast, swirling as if drawn to the power below. Flashes of lightning crackled in the clouds, illuminating the clearing in sudden, sporadic bursts of light. The energy surged again, this time stronger, more violent, and with it came a sound like the deep rumble of the earth groaning under the pressure of the ancient spell.

  The pulse of magic exploded once more from the circle, sending a wave of force through the clearing, nearly knocking Kale and the others off their feet. Rothgar stood firm, his eyes blazing, refusing to move even as the power threatened to tear him apart.

  The symbols flared again, brighter than ever before, and a final pulse of energy shot upward into the sky, splitting the clouds in a violent shockwave of light.

  Rothgar dropped to his knees, his roar of pain echoing through the clearing. His hands slammed into the ground, fists clenched as his body began to convulse. A dark energy seemed to wrap itself around him, draining his lifeforce with every passing second.

  “Rothgar!” Kale shouted, stepping forward, but Liliana stopped him.

  “He’s part of the curse,” she whispered. “It’s draining him.”

  Rika’s eyes darted between Rothgar and his daughter, still unconscious in the circle. “This is bad.”

  Bihiro’s expression shifted, fear and uncertainty crossing his face as the ritual spiraled out of control. The air was filled with magic, the tension almost unbearable as Rothgar’s lifeforce began to slip away.

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