The first sign was not blood.
It was calm.
The village of Rellmoor should have been screaming.
Instead, it was quiet—doors open, fires still burning in hearths, bread half-cut on tables. Chickens wandered unattended through the square. No struggle. No panic.
Just absence.
Kael crouched beside a dropped basket, fingers brushing the rim. "They left like this willingly."
Elara stood in the center of the square, heart heavy. "No. Not willingly."
Aren frowned. "What's the difference?"
Elara closed her eyes briefly. "Choice without full truth isn't consent."
Nyx swallowed. "How many?"
"Twenty-three," Kael said grimly. "Men, women… two children."
A cold wind swept through the square.
Then a voice spoke.
"You taught them well."
Elara turned sharply.
A man stood at the edge of the well.
He looked ordinary—mid-thirties, brown hair, simple traveler's coat. No shadow aura. No corruption marks. No Hollowborn stench.
His eyes were clear.
Too clear.
Kael stepped in front of Elara instantly, blade half-drawn. "Who are you?"
The man smiled gently.
"My name is Corin Vale," he said. "And I am not your enemy."
Aren inhaled sharply. "Elara… I don't feel hunger from him."
Nyx whispered, shaken, "Nor do I."
That was worse.
Elara stepped around Kael.
"Corin Vale," she said calmly. "Where are the villagers?"
Corin's smile softened. "Safe."
Kael snarled. "You expect us to believe that?"
"I expect you to feel it," Corin replied.
Elara hesitated—then nodded slightly.
"Kael," she murmured. "Lower the blade. Please."
His eyes flashed. "Elara—"
"Trust me."
Slowly, painfully, Kael lowered his weapon—but did not step away.
Elara met Corin's gaze.
"Why are you here?"
Corin folded his hands loosely. "Because it wanted me to come."
Silence slammed into the square.
Aren's voice was barely audible. "It?"
Corin nodded. "The Devourer."
Kael exploded. "Get away from her—"
"Elara," Corin said gently, ignoring Kael entirely. "It didn't force me. It didn't threaten me. It asked a question."
Elara's chest tightened. "What question?"
Corin's eyes shone with something like reverence.
"What if suffering is optional?"
The words rippled through Elara like cold water.
Kael's voice shook with rage. "Lies."
Corin turned to him, still calm. "Is it?"
Kael stepped forward—but Elara caught his arm.
"Let him speak," she said quietly.
Corin smiled again. "You see? She understands."
Aren whispered urgently, "Elara, he's anchoring attention. Don't let him—"
"I know," she replied softly. "But this matters."
She faced Corin fully.
"You took them," she said. "Twenty-three people. Including children."
Corin nodded. "They came because they wanted peace."
"Peace isn't disappearance."
"Isn't it?" Corin countered gently. "When people die of illness, hunger, grief—do you call that peace?"
Elara's hands curled. "You're reframing death as mercy."
"No," Corin said. "I'm reframing endurance as cruelty."
Kael couldn't stay silent. "You're speaking its philosophy."
"Yes," Corin replied calmly. "Because it finally speaks truth."
Aren stepped forward, trembling. "You're wrong. It feeds on erasure."
Corin looked at him with genuine curiosity. "Does it? Or does it simply remove pain by removing the one who feels it?"
Elara felt sick.
This was different.
This wasn't fear.
This was logic twisted into seduction.
"You're the Speaker," she said quietly.
Corin inclined his head. "The first who listens without screaming."
The Debate No One Wanted
They brought Corin to the Sanctuary.
Not in chains.
That decision alone fractured the Council.
"He is compromised," Valryn snapped. "You don't reason with a mouthpiece."
Elara met her gaze. "If we silence him, we prove his point."
Kael slammed his fist into the table. "Elara, he led children into the dark."
"And if we kill him," she shot back, voice breaking, "what lesson does that teach the next one?"
Silence followed.
Corin stood in the center of the chamber, hands unbound, eyes serene.
"I will not resist," he said. "Because I am not afraid."
Aren whispered, "That's what terrifies me."
Elara approached Corin slowly.
"Why you?" she asked.
Corin smiled faintly. "Because I lost everything before it spoke to me. My wife. My brother. My home. I prayed for relief."
His voice softened.
"And something answered."
Elara's chest ached. "And what did it promise you?"
"Not power," Corin said. "Not dominance."
He looked at her intently.
"Silence without loneliness."
The chamber chilled.
Kael's voice cracked. "That's not silence. That's extinction."
Corin turned to him. "You carry a hunger you never asked for. You of all people should understand wanting it to end."
Kael flinched.
Elara stepped between them instantly.
"No," she said firmly. "You don't get to use his pain."
Corin blinked—genuinely surprised.
Elara's voice trembled but held.
"You think the Devourer offers peace. But it doesn't heal pain. It deletes the person who feels it."
Corin's brow furrowed.
"And what is healing," he asked softly, "if not an end to suffering?"
Elara swallowed hard.
"Healing," she said, "requires staying."
The word echoed.
Corin hesitated.
For the first time—
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes.
Aren felt it too. "Elara… his anchor is wavering."
Kael saw it and moved closer, ready to strike.
But Elara raised her hand.
"Corin," she said quietly. "Do you hear it now?"
He frowned. "Hear what?"
"The silence you think is peace," she whispered. "Does it answer when you question it?"
Corin's breath caught.
The chamber trembled faintly.
A pressure slid across Elara's mind—
Enough.
She stiffened.
Corin gasped, clutching his chest.
"Elara—" he whispered, voice shaking. "It's… it doesn't like this."
She met his eyes, heart breaking.
"Because it doesn't want choice," she said softly. "It wants surrender."
Corin staggered.
Kael grabbed him before he fell—but didn't let go.
"Fight it," Kael growled. "If there's any part of you left."
Corin's face twisted in agony.
"I just wanted the pain to stop," he sobbed.
Elara stepped closer, ignoring the cold pressure pushing against her mind.
"I know," she whispered. "So did I."
She placed her palm over his heart—not with power, not with the Mirror.
With warmth.
"You don't have to disappear to rest," she said. "Stay. Just stay."
For a heartbeat—
The Devourer's presence faltered.
Corin collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
The silence shattered.
Somewhere far below—
The Devourer screamed.
Not aloud.
But in rage.
Aftermath
Corin lived.
Barely.
The villagers were not returned.
But something shifted.
Nyx whispered to Elara later, "You wounded it. Not with power—with contradiction."
Aren nodded weakly. "It can't stand being questioned."
Kael held Elara tightly that night, voice low and fierce.
"You stood between it and its Speaker."
She trembled against him. "And it noticed."
"Yes," he said. "It did."
Elara stared into the darkness beyond the Sanctuary walls.
The Devourer had lost something.
Not a weapon.
But certainty.
And that made it dangerous.