The event played itself within the Warlock Dagmar’s mind over and over again. She was trapped within the meditative trance of self-recovery, her senses dulled by drugs and spells as well. She could feel herself like a puppet that was clutching at the last strings. And within her mind, the scene played itself again and again.

The ritual, the spell, the fox, the sword.

The pain that exploded within her as the dagger buried itself into the kernel close to her heart.

The one thing that had kept her alive far longer than any Warlock had the right to live. The last gift of an old friend. With every passing day, the kernel weakened, and with it the thread that had kept her alive frayed just a little more.

Was this meant to be the end? Dagmar roiled at the thought. Her gut churned in anger. They were so close, so close to be able to come back, to rise! The emotions burned in defiance to all else. She would not go without a fight, at least there was enough clarity within her thoughts for her to be certain she’d not yet gone feral. Small miracles in times of storm.

The hours bled in this way, her thoughts scattering and regrouping before becoming diffused once more. The sense of time was dim but constant, days, weeks. A month? More? It wasn’t until her body pulsed with a vibrant feeling of… strangeness that she realized something was changing.

The kernel churned, and the life it received pierced into her flesh with renewed vigor. Dagmar wished to scream but her body did not move. The only thing she managed was a sharp gasp and a shudder. Her own flesh trembled with healing magic, but it did not remove the pain, not as the kernel’s roots dug ever deeper.

The seed had taken a hundred years to root itself as deeply through her body as it had, and within hours, it was doubling in size. The seed brought power, however, and life, even if the remainder of her existence was drained away more and more. Dagmar’s eyes opened and she let out a soul-piercing shriek.

“Hurry!”

Words, actions, power.

Everything turned black.

Dagmar did not know how much time had passed before she stirred awake, feeling drained and frail, but alive. Far more alive than she’d remembered feeling in decades. Slowly, she sat up, looking down at her body. Her obsidian black skin was marred by white scars, spreading across her body like the roots of a tree.

The kernel.

With a soft breath, Dagmar pulled from the powers inside herself. How much had her lifespan been shortened? The kernel had fed its fill, and her magic had been diminished for it. Dagmar could only grimace, there was so little left… the old Lady felt a marginal sense of panic. Months, she only had months, perhaps a year at most. Not enough time, barely a blink of an eye.

“Not enough time.”

She’d have to help her daughter to take the reins of the Court in full, to stamp out those who might outmaneuver her. The Court couldn’t be allowed to dissolve into in-fighting, and Embla would have to prove her strength. Would they have to move again? That would be a great strain on their resources, but where else could they go that may be defensible against a feral rush? Against the humans?

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her clothes. What once had been a simple manner now strained her, she grimaced and nearly fell back to the bed. That fox had done a number on her. It would take time before she regained full control over her powers. Time she did not have. Slowly, she walked to the door, pausing only long enough to pick some fruit from the offered dish left near the entrance. She sensed five guards, and with a simple wave dismissed them.

The corridors of the wooden palace were mostly empty, allowing for Dagmar to comfortably walk without any distraction. She could sense Embla was nearby, and she sought her daughter out. The Dark Lady was, as usual, training. Armored from head to toe, she swung a long piece of wood that was likely five times as heavy as Dagmar was.

The old woman felt pride mixed with a twinge of envy and reminiscence, to the days she’d been strong and agile, the days when she’d need not fear blades or spells. The days when humans knew her name and paid their respects to her. The days when speaking of the thousand armed god did not bring scorn and hate.

“Mother!”

Embla dropped the wood and launched into the Warlock. The strong, powerful physique held Dagmar with a gentle squeeze. The gesture was far too kind for a leader, but one Dagmar would not rebuke as she did her best to return the gesture.

“It is good to have you back.”

“It is good to be back.” Dagmar nodded, inhaling deeply and glancing at her daughter intently. There was a slight frown as she felt a disturbance within her daughter’s aura that had not been there last she’d looked. “Something’s changed.”

“Much has changed. There is much I must tell you.”

“You…” A pause, a frown. This sensation… it could not be. “You captured the human.”

Shame crossed Embla’s face and aura, shaking her head. “No, he escaped. But fortune smiled upon us. There was another.”

“Another… this…” Dagmar’s thoughts stirred, and a sense of danger loomed over her like a shadow. More than one human being able to make powerful bonds? The enormity of the thought felt like the preamble to a storm.

Clouded skies and the roll of thunder in the distance.

She scowled. “You must tell me everything.”

The more Embla spoke, the more Dagmar realized something was wrong, very wrong. Her daughter had bonded a human, and at first, she’d thought this bond was one of dominance, of control. What human could control or force her own daughter to submit? And while the bond was not one of submission, it still had trapped Embla within the clutches of the human’s… weakness.

Dagmar knew of the trappings of such bonds, how they twisted and turned logic and reason against the maiden’s own interests.

But was there anything she could do? No. The bond was powerful. Just looking upon it left Dagmar feeling a slight sense of awe. Never in her life had she seen something that was so entrenched, so strong. The idea of killing this… ‘Barry’ was discarded immediately. The blow-back alone could very well cripple Embla, if not drive her into an enraged frenzy or insanity.

If there was something she could do, it would have to wait, however, as there was one more thing that perturbed her. Far more than even her own daughter being compromised by a human’s influence.

“There are other humans like him.”

“Yes, Barry couldn’t ascertain the exact number, but if his guess is correct, there might very well be dozens of them.”

The consideration made Dagmar’s blood turn cold. “Have you kept an observer on them at least?”

Embla nodded. “Yes, there is an entire knight squadron from the Earl, as well as the local Lord’s own forces. After our attack, they holed up in Seledo.”

“But they cannot stay there, not forever. If the Earl sent his own forces to protect them, then it means he expects them to reach Balet.” Dagmar frowned deeply, feeling her powers waver. “Do you understand the situation, daughter? The threat the humans pose?”

The younger maiden hesitated. “They would be powerful assets to the kingdom.”

“It would be more than that, girl, think!” She made a gesture. “Think of the enemies of the kingdom, maiden forces, independent, free. The kingdom never dared go after them, for they had no way to reliably bond them quickly or reliably!” Anger flared, her powers bubbled, and the kernel churned under her skin. “How long before they begin hunting us again? Before they turn our own sisters against us? The draconids, the orcs, the tigress clans, the vampires!”

Embla nodded grimly, bowing her head. “What must be done?”

Dagmar held back from sighing in relief. The human’s influence on her daughter was concerning, but at least it appeared he had not won against her daughter’s better judgment. That issue would need to be corrected, in time, but for now, there was only one course of action they could take.

“We need to inform the others of the threat. I had a deal with the vampire clans and they will keep their word. But that is secondary, we must mobilize. These humans must be captured or killed, and we must act before they reach Balet. Once within the Earl’s castle, it would be near impossible to touch them.”

There was a nod and a moment of hesitation.

“Barry may be a human, but he has proven useful. He must not be told of this.” Dagmar continued. “We have a greater need for him. I will take him along with some guards to attempt and rouse the elves from their eternal slumber.”

Embla’s eyes widened, head snapping up to meet her mother’s eyes. “Do you think it is possible?”

“There is hope.” Dagmar nodded.

A hope that the ancient warriors that had once brought the human armies low could be awakened once more.

The question was, of course, if Dagmar had the time to devise a way to break the bond without harming her daughter in the process. If worst came to worst, she would have to find a way to make sure the human her daughter was bonded to would not threaten their plans.