"The Enki never give power freely. Every summoning leaves a scar, and every Marduk is the echo of a soul already lost."
--------------------------------
Time crystallized into a single, terrifying moment as the Marduk launched itself through the air with inhuman grace. Its six amber eyes locked onto their primary target, Adnir, who stood frozen in the creature's path like a deer caught in torchlight. The demon hound's massive frame moved with impossible speed, defying the laws of nature that governed mortal beasts. Steam rose from its black hide in writhing tendrils, carrying the stench of sulfur and burnt copper that seemed to claw at Nisheena's throat with every breath.
Her mind reeled as she tried to process what she was seeing. A Marduk, here, in her inn, in the heart of Baelur. It was impossible. The demon hounds of the Enki were not casual summons, not creatures that wandered freely across the mortal plane. They were bound by contracts written in blood and sealed with souls, called forth only by those desperate enough to pay the ultimate price for power.
Someone in Baelur had made a bargain with the demons.
The realization hit her like ice water flooding her veins. Somewhere in their cursed town, one of the great families or perhaps someone else entirely had entered into the forbidden compact. They had drawn the ritual circles, spoken the blasphemous words, and opened doorways that should have remained forever sealed. The political machinations and family feuds she had been so concerned with were nothing compared to this. Baelur wasn't just facing civil war, it was facing damnation itself.
But there was no time to contemplate the implications. The Marduk struck Adnir with the force of a falling boulder, its crystalline fangs gleaming like cut diamonds as its jaws opened wide enough to encompass a man's head. The young baker's son barely had time to raise his stolen sword before the creature was upon him.
By some miracle of reflexes honed by years of farm work, Adnir managed to get his blade up just as the demon hound's jaws snapped shut. The steel caught between rows of crystal teeth, the blade ringing like a bell as supernatural force met mortal metal. For a heartbeat, it seemed the sword might hold, but then physics reasserted itself with brutal clarity.
The creature's weight drove Adnir backward, his feet sliding across the inn's wooden floor as he fought to maintain his grip on the weapon. His young face was twisted with terror and desperate determination, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold that seemed to radiate from the demon's presence. The sword shook in his hands as the Marduk applied pressure, its jaws working like a vice designed to crush mountains.
Nisheena's gaze darted to Kael, expecting to see the revolutionary leader leap into action to save his friend. Instead, she found him standing utterly motionless, his own sword hanging loose in nerveless fingers. The boy who had been so ready to lead an army against the great families was paralyzed by the sight of true supernatural horror. His eyes were wide with primal terror, his mouth hanging open in shock, all his newfound confidence evaporating like morning mist.
This was what separated theory from reality, she realized with bitter clarity. It was easy to speak of courage when facing human enemies, mortal foes who could be reasoned with or defeated through conventional means. But when confronted with something that existed outside the natural order, something that represented pure malevolence given physical form, even the bravest souls could find themselves frozen by instinctive dread.
A wet crack echoed through the inn as hairline fractures appeared along Adnir's blade. The steel was good quality, probably worth more than the boy had ever seen in his life, but it had never been designed to withstand the crushing force of a demon's jaws. Another few seconds and it would shatter completely, leaving him defenseless against crystalline fangs that could rend stone as easily as flesh.
Something primal and fierce awakened in Nisheena's chest, a protective fury that burned away shock and calculation alike. These boys had infuriated her with their reckless plans and casual dismissal of her wisdom, but they were still her responsibility. This was her inn, her sanctuary, and nothing, not even a creature from the deepest pits of hell, had the right to shed innocent blood on her floors.
Her hand moved to the steel dagger at her belt, fingers wrapping around the familiar weight of the blade. It was a simple weapon, designed more for utility than combat, but it had served her well over the years. The metal was good steel, folded and tempered by Gorek's skilled hands, honed to razor sharpness through careful maintenance. Against a human opponent, it would be deadly enough.
Against a Marduk, it might be useless, but she had to try.