Chapter 149

Sszarik stepped aside and I saw it. Saw him.

Ishaan. His father.

Pinned in the Weeping Gallows.

Everything in me locked up. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t tear my eyes away.

The branches had wrapped around him, driven deep into his chest, holding him tight against the trunk like he’d grown there. The bark drank from him - dark, slow rivulets of blood trailing down into the roots.

He whimpered. Confessed. Small, broken things. How he’d lusted after his wife’s sister. How he’d failed as a father. How he’d eaten elf flesh during his rite of manhood. Each word pulled from him like thread from an unraveling wound.

His skin was pale. Drained. His voice thin and fraying.

“Sszarik,” I whispered. I **** myself to look away from Ishaan - to look at him. “We have to help him. We have to get him out.”

“What?” he snapped. “Get him out?” His voice rose, sharp and incredulous. “This is what he deserves. This is what he gets for trying to come between us. This is what happens when he tries to control me - tell me what I can and can’t do.”

He gripped my shoulders and turned me back toward the tree.

“Listen to him,” he said. “He did the same thing we did. The exact same thing - and no one punished him. He did it because it’s who we are.” His grip tightened. “And now he wants me to turn my back on that? On us? That’s bullshit.”

“Sszarik… please…” Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely now.

“Sszarik, please…” he echoed mockingly.

Behind us, the others laughed.

“You of all people should understand,” he said, softer now. That was somehow worse. “Your father’s the same. Controlling. Doesn’t respect you. Doesn’t respect us. We followed our traditions. Our rites. He doesn’t understand because he’s not one of us.”

He jerked his chin toward Ishaan. “And he doesn’t understand either. Not anymore. He abandoned his people - ran off to live with weak, pathetic dryfolk.” His voice hardened. “We’re naga, Issa. We’re better than them.”

I shook my head, words caught somewhere deep in my throat.

This wasn’t him. He was good. He was kind. We were happy. We were married. We were supposed to have a life together. Why was he saying this?

“Are you going to turn your back on your people?” he asked, his voice sharpening again. “Are you ashamed of what you are? Like him?” He gestured at his father. “Like your father? Ashamed that you’re better?”

I couldn’t answer.

“Or are you going to throw it all away?” he pressed. “Pretend to be human? Or goblin?”

He glanced back at the others. “Even they understand,” he said. “I made them honorary tribe. They’ve got naga hearts now. They’ve done the rites. So what - are they wrong? Is the fire burning in their hearts is wrong?” His eyes bored into mine. “Are we wrong?”

I tried to step back.

He didn’t let me. His hands locked me in place.

“You need to decide, Issa,” he said. “Right now. Are you a predator… or are you prey?” His grip tightened, fingers biting into my shoulders. “Are you with us? Or are you going to run - hide - pretend you’re some soft, useless dryfolk?”

His voice dropped, cold and cutting. “Your scales mean something. And if you turn your back on your people…” His voice lowered. “You don’t deserve them.”

“Sszarik…” I could barely see him through the tears.

“Make your choice,” he said. “Embrace what you are… or go unskinned.” His voice became a whisper. “Because I need to know if the woman I married is worthy.”

The words hit like a blow.

Was this what it felt like? From the other side? Like those men in Northgate who took me - who thought they were better. Like they had the right to decide who lived and who didn’t.

Was this why they wanted to kill me? Kill anyone who wasn’t human?

I didn’t want to turn my back on my people. I was naga. I was proud of my scales. Proud of where I came from.

But I didn’t want to hurt anyone. The people in town didn’t deserve this. They weren’t lesser.

Mirri never cared what we were. Ashie didn’t. Serah didn’t. Thren didn’t.

“Sszarik… please,” I whispered. “Stop.”

“I see,” he said quietly. Something in his voice went cold. “I’m disappointed, Issa. I thought you’d understand. That you wouldn’t take the coward’s way.” His hands tightened, almost painful now. “I thought you respected tradition.”

He paused and looked me in the eyes. “I made a mistake loving you.”

My heart shattered. He had made a mistake. I was the mistake.

A sob tore out of me, my whole body shaking as my knees gave out - but he didn’t let me fall. His grip held me upright, locked in place.

Then hands grabbed me. Mal and Ron seized my arms. Eira and Kip took my legs.

I screamed - kicked - twisted- but they were stronger.

“Please, Sszarik… please stop!”

They dragged me forward. Toward the tree.

The branches shifted, slow and eager, bending toward me like they’d been waiting. Reaching. Hungry.

They were going to feed me to it.

I was going to die.

* * *

It had been hours. There was almost nothing left of the park - trees torn down, burned to blackened stumps and drifting ash. The air hung thick with smoke, bitter and acrid, clinging to the back of my throat. Another building had come down not long ago, its collapse still echoing somewhere in the distance. Fires still burned across the surrounding blocks, but they were finally starting to lose ground.

As best we could tell, the nearby buildings had been cleared. Mirri had pushed the stone wall outward, widening our little island of safety to hold the nearly two hundred people now packed inside - huddled together, exhausted, scared out of their minds.

Without flowlines - without any way for these people to move mana properly - Mirri and Lilae had been **** to improvise. Bandages, poultices, and herbs - conjured from what little mana they had left. It was slower. Cruder. But it worked.

Serah had returned not long ago. Her dress hadn’t survived the shift, and now she stood in that skin-tight, red leather armor she occasionally conjured - something between practical and distracting as hell. Jenkins and Donnelly had both gone quiet when she’d shown up naked.

All this chaos and it was a naked woman that broke them. Not that I could blame them - she was beyond beautiful.

We were all running on fumes. I wasn’t even sure I had enough mana left to light a match.

It had to be after midnight. Some people had passed out where they sat. Others cried quietly. Most just stared - at the ruins, at us - trying to make sense of what they’d gone through.

Then a loudspeaker cut through the quiet devastation. “Attention in the park. This is law enforcement. We are attempting to establish communication. If you can hear us, please signal.”

The words rolled across the charred ground and shattered stone, threading through the low-hanging smoke. Firelight flickered, painting everything in dull, shifting shadows. Engines roared in the distance. Water hammered against burning buildings.

Everyone looked at me.

Donnelly pushed himself to his feet. Jenkins followed, slower, wincing as he rose.

I drew in a breath, stepped up to the wall, and raised my voice. “We hear you!”

A pause - controlled and measured. “Copy that. We hear you as well. Stand by.”

Donnelly frowned slightly. “That was a handoff.”

The next voice proved him right - calm, even, and practiced. “This is the FBI. My name is Special Agent Harris. I’m here to talk, not to escalate.”

Ashlara gave a low grunt. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shh,” Mirri snapped without looking up, hands steady as she wrapped a bandage around a man’s leg. “Let him talk.”

Harris continued. “We have multiple active fires surrounding your position. Emergency services are working to contain them, but access is limited. We need to coordinate safe evacuation of civilians. Can you confirm you have non-combatants with you?”

“Yeah,” I called back. “We’ve got people. Injured. We’re stabilizing them as best we can.”

Donnelly gave me a small nod.

“Understood,” Harris said through the bullhorn. “We can establish a corridor on the south side of the park. Fire crews will cover the approach. You bring civilians out, we receive them. No weapons visible. No sudden movements.”

Clo giggled. “Do they think we’re actually afraid?”

“They want us disarmed and out in the open,” Ashlara said flatly.

Jenkins leaned in close. “It’s standard,” he murmured. “Doesn’t mean it’s a setup.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t,” Vel said quietly.

“That’s not happening,” I shouted back. “You’re not in control here. You think you are - but your people have been compromised.”

Silence stretched out again.

Then Harris, tighter now, but still controlled. “Then tell me what you need.”

“Careful,” Donnelly muttered.

“Stop treating my people like hostiles,” I called. “You’ve got people out there who don’t want this to end peacefully.”

Another long pause. “That’s a serious claim,” Harris said. “Do you have anything to support it?”

I let out a short breath. “Yeah. Look around.”

I let that sink in.

“You want cooperation?” I called. “Here it is. We send civilians out in small groups. You keep your shooters on a leash. You don’t rush us. You don’t escalate.”

Donnelly stepped forward, just enough to carry his voice. “Agent Harris. This is Detective Donnelly, PPD. I’m on the ground with them.”

“…Detective?” Harris replied. “We were advised-”

“Yeah,” Donnelly cut in. “You were advised wrong.”

Jenkins shifted beside me but stayed quiet.

“They’re pulling civilians out of burning buildings,” Donnelly went on. “That’s a fact. You want this contained? You work with that, not against it.”

The silence that followed had weight to it.

“…Understood,” Harris said at last. The speaker crackled again. “Alright. Listen carefully. We’ll establish a reception point on the south side of the park. Fire and EMS will stage behind hard cover. Do not advance beyond that line. No weapons raised unless there’s a clear threat.”

“Weapons?” Clo giggled again.

“Small groups,” Harris continued. “Five to ten at a time. Hands visible. Slow movement. We receive, triage, and move them out. Then we reset.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “That works.”

“We’ll need a signal,” Harris added. “Something we can identify before each group moves.”

I glanced back. Mirri didn’t even look up. “Give them light.”

Lilae perked up immediately. “I can do that.”

I turned back toward the smoke. “You’ll get a green light. That means civilians are moving. No tricks.”

“Understood,” Harris said. “Green light acknowledged.”

Another pause, longer this time. “I need your word that no one in your group will engage our personnel during these movements.”

“You keep your people disciplined,” I said. “We’ll do the same. Anyone fires on us, this deal’s off.”

“…That’s fair,” Harris replied.

Donnelly folded his arms, watching the smoke. “That’s about as good as it gets,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Let’s see if it holds,” Jenkins added quietly.

Behind us, Mirri’s voice cut through. “First group’s ready.”

“Wait - why do they get to go and not us?”

The voice came from a tall guy pushing to his feet - mid-twenties, maybe. Undershirt, ruined slacks, hair sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided the world owed him something.

“If you were listening, you’d know,” I said. “Groups of five. We’re sending injured and people who can help them.”

“But why them?” he snapped, pointing at Mirri’s picks.

“What part of ‘help’ don’t you get?” I shot back. “You run out there, best case a building falls on you. Worst case, you get shot.”

He glared at me.

“Sit your ass down,” I added, voice hardening, “or Nim’s going to tear your arms and legs off.”

Nim stood. Didn’t move - just stood. Seven feet of inhuman muscle and quiet ****.

The guy sat down real fast.

I gave Lilae a nod.

She lifted her hands. Soft green light spilled upward, cutting through the smoke like a signal flare.

“Green light!” I shouted. “First group moving!”

The five Mirri had chosen stepped forward - hesitant at first, then quicker as they passed through the wall and into the open.

* * *

The first group made it to the barricades at the edge of the park, their progress swallowed and revealed in turns by the shifting smoke. Visibility was shit. The ground was uneven, broken, and treacherous. The injured slowed them to a crawl.

Shapes moved in the haze on the far side - silhouettes guiding them left and right - pulling them out of sight one by one.

We waited - tense, watching.

The people behind the wall pressed closer together. They wanted out - but they also knew this was the only place that hadn’t tried to kill them yet. We didn’t know where the Covenant was. Didn’t know what they’d try next.

Minutes dragged.

I kept my voice low as I spoke with Donnelly and Jenkins. They both said the same thing - Harris would tell us when they were ready.

Right on cue, the loudspeaker crackled.

“Park group, this is Harris. We are ready for the next five. Send on green.”

I gave Lilae a nod.

She raised her hands, and that soft green light bloomed again, cutting through the smoke like a signal flare.

The next group limped forward, slow and unsteady, picking their way across the broken ground.

Figures shifted on the far side.

A shot cracked.

One of the injured staggered.

“Get down!” Jenkins barked on instinct.

“No - keep moving!” I shouted. “Don’t stop!”

They froze - half crouched, half turning. Stuck between running and collapsing.

“Hold! Hold Nobody move!” Harris roared over the loudspeaker. “Park group - cease all movement! Do not advance!”

Across the smoke, shapes dropped, pulled back, and shifted into cover. For a heartbeat, it looked like it might settle.

“All units - hold your fire!” Harris snapped, voice now off the bullhorn - sharp. “Weapons down unless you have a confirmed threat!”

“What the hell just happened?” he shouted.

“That wasn’t us! It came from behind us!” I fired back.

There was a long, pregnant pause and everyone held their breath.

“…Copy. Then we hold. Nobody moves until we sort this out.”

Tense silence followed.

The group in the open huddled together, exposed. Behind me, people started to whimper.

“Park group, stay with me,” Harris said, forcing his voice steady. “Continue movement. You are clear. Repeat - you are clear.”

They moved. Faster now. Dragging the injured with them.

They were almost there.

A second shot rang out.

One of them jerked and dropped.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped.

Then the screaming started.

“Get down!” someone shouted from the far side.

“Move! Move!” another panicked voice cried.

The group scattered - some diving, some scrambling, others just running blind toward the responders.

“Hold all movement!” Harris yelled. “Everyone down! Do not advance!”

“Officer down!” someone screamed.

“Negative!” Harris snapped. “That’s a civilian! Hold your positions!”

The wounded man lay in the open, barely moving. Another crawled back toward him, dragging himself through ash and blood.

“No, no, no…” Jenkins whispered.

The third shot cracked.

It slammed into the pavement inches from the crawling man’s hand, spraying chips of stone and ash into his face.

“Shots fired! Shots fired!”

Thin red lines - laser sights - cut through the smoke, jittering across bodies, across stone, across us.

“No one fire!” Harris roared, his voice breaking. “No one fires without positive ID!”

A shot answered him - this one from his side.

Everything erupted. Gunfire tore through the haze in a deafening wave, rounds hammering into the stone wall around us, chipping rock, spitting dust and fragments into the air.

I glanced at Donnelly and sighed. “This is going well.”