Chapter 30


    Flames of Concequence


    Music: Desperado by Rihanna


    “You may be able to kill your best friend without a second thought, but I’m not you, Hound,” Emily said, her voice firm.


    “You do realize I’d be dead if not for April’s intervention, don’t you?” Hound clarified. “Tell me, what do you think would have happened if April was a second late?”


    Emily closed the distance, her face etched with sorrow. “I’m sorry, I—”


    “Play along, Em. Answer the question,” Hound cut her off, his tone unwavering.


    She hesitated but eventually spoke, her words measured. “Well, you would be dead. Binge, too. Everyone in the house, for that matter. And since both of you are Barons, there’d be chaos in Rivermirror—power struggles, political instability.


    With you gone, she’d take your place as Seer. Binge’s death would destroy everything he built, especially the food supply. He’s the only one who understands how it works.”


    Hound gently lifted her face, brushing her hair aside with surprising tenderness. “Do you understand now why she must die?”


    Emily’s eyes softened, and she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I don’t ask much of you, so please, do me this favor. Let her live… just this once.”


    Hound’s resolve wavered under her sweetness. “Make sure she understands the meaning of consequence.”


    She embraced him tightly, burying her face in his neck. “Thank you.” With her immediate worry soothed, she brought up another issue. “This month’s shipment was too expensive—no ether.”


    “That’s alright,” he assured, still captivated by her charm. “How close are you to finishing the antidote?”Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    “Two more days,” she whispered. “How much time do we have?”


    “The first infection is at midnight. If everything goes as planned, we’ll have a few days,” he replied.


    She sighed, her tone shifting. “You’ve been keeping secrets. I don’t appreciate that.” Still holding onto him, she pressed, “Tell me everything. What’s happening? How is Binge involved? It’s too late now, isn’t it? Telling me won’t change the future.”


    His expression darkened. “Go see your friend. Then we’ll talk.”


    <hr>


    (Later That Night at the Border)


    Emily stood across from Mavis, both wary of each other. Emily tossed the severed head of the assassin at Mavis’ feet.


    Mavis stopped the rolling head with her foot, glancing down before smirking. “So it’s true. You’re a Seer now. From such an esteemed family… to such a degrading end. You’re pathetic.”


    Ignoring the insult, Emily spoke with unwavering conviction. “This is your first and last warning. Next time, I’ll be taking your life.”


    Mavis laughed—a cruel, mocking sound. Her demeanor betrayed Emily’s understanding of who she thought Mavis was. The armor, the unflinching reaction to the severed head—this was no ordinary foe. Emily realized she needed to make her point clear to her now changed friend.


    “I’m sorry. This is for your own good,” Emily said, detonating a sleeping gas canister and donning a mask.


    Mavis raised her gun, but the dizziness hit her too fast. Darkness consumed her.


    When she woke, she was cuffed to a metal bar in a dimly lit room. Emily sat nearby, calmly reading a book.


    “You’re finally up, sleepyhead!” Emily chirped, standing with exaggerated cheer. “Here’s the thing, sweetheart—you’re trouble.”


    Emily grabbed a container and began pouring crude oil over Mavis’ head.


    Mavis’ confidence cracked. “Wait! Emily, what are you doing? You can’t be serious—right?”


    Emily remained silent, pouring until the oil drenched Mavis completely. Only when the container was empty did she respond. “I love you. But I need you to understand—there won’t be a next time.”


    “There won’t be!” Mavis pleaded, her voice desperate. “I’ll leave it alone. All of it. I understand.”


    “I don’t think you do,” Emily replied coldly. One hand rested on her hip, the other holding a lit match.


    The match hovered over a trail of oil leading to Mavis. “Don’t worry,” Emily added, her voice calm yet chilling. “I laced the oil with a high-quality healing potion. You’ll burn and regenerate at the same rate—until someone hears your screams and helps you. Or until the healing wears off, and you burn to death. Either way, it’ll hurt.”


    “EMILY, PLEASE, THIS IS NOT YOU!” Mavis screamed as the match fell.


    The fire crawled toward her, and soon, she was engulfed. Her screams filled the room as she writhed in agony. Emily stood by, watching silently.


    “This is better than killing her,” Emily whispered, trying to convince herself. “I need to make sure she understands how serious I am. This hurts me more than it hurts her. I hope someone finds her. Please don''t die Mavis”


    Emily turned and walked away, pulling up her hood as she stepped into the dark, starry night.