The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

Austin Veyron had no answer. Not once since he had arrived at Ember Hold had he been without one.

Behind him, civilians moved grain along the white relief route. Outside, Arin’s camp was counting bags, filling water barrels, and lining people up to be fed, and Austin Veyron could hear them doing it from within the walls, the steady rhythm of names and numbers carrying over the stone. Ahead of him was a fire wall that kept Kharvek locked inside the hidden war archive, along with maps of every refugee city he intended to starve. Smoke leaked through the granary roof, and more wood was breaking apart above them. Whatever they were going to do, they would have to do it soon.

Veyra noticed it in Austin Veyron’s expression. She knew that look. She had seen it in the Maw Core and under the pantry in Grand Meridian. It was the look of someone trying to make every decision for everyone else.

”You don’t have to do this alone,” she said.

”There will be targets in the archive,” Ceryn said, kneeling beside the burnt piece of map. ”If we let it burn, we lose the route map. If Kharvek keeps it, he gains the advantage.”

”We still need to secure the grain release,” Vessa said. ”Kharvek will have soldiers who can try to steer it somewhere else.”

Austin Veyron stared at the fire wall. His wrist mark was pulling him toward it, as if the remaining sample shards were calling to him from the other side. It didn’t hurt. It felt more like hunger, a low, patient ache for whatever was waiting beyond the fire.

”We split into roles,” he said.

”I’ll stay with Arin and the release route,” Veyra said. ”Rin will watch the outer wall for any soldiers.”

”Orena and I will stay with the tunnels,” Vessa said. ”We’ll make sure the grain gets out.” She had already tucked the transfer book under her arm and was staring down the tunnel, where the first wagons were being filled.

”Nyra, Sable, Ceryn, and I will go through the fire wall and into the archive,” Austin Veyron said.

”You won’t go alone,” Nyra said.

”No, I won’t. I’ll have witnesses.” He meant it, even though a part of him still wanted to walk through that fire by himself and come out with all the answers in his hands.

They had decided what they could do. They couldn’t do everything, but at least now they knew where the limits were.

Veyra grabbed Austin Veyron’s wrist before he could move toward the fire. ”If you think the archive is a trap, you tell us. If your mark tries to control you, you tell us. Don’t turn this into you trying to save everyone by yourself.”

”Understood.”

Sable raised her broken crown shard. ”Witness.” The shard caught the red glow and cast a thin line of white light across the ground, like a boundary drawn in chalk.

The fire wall was unlike any fire Austin Veyron had ever seen. It was red, and it didn’t give off any heat. Ash rose from the floor and reached toward the supply room in the shape of hands. The flames made no noise at all, which was frightening in itself. Then Kharvek spoke from somewhere in the darkness beyond.

”You want to save the maps instead of feeding people. That is what tyrants do.” His tone was light and amused, the voice of a man who was sure he had already won the argument.

Austin Veyron could see red writing inside the fire wall.

TARGETS BELONG TO THE ONE WHO NAMES THEM.

The archive was trying to claim every city on the map for Kharvek. Reading it felt like putting on a crown made of directions.

DEVOUR wanted to learn everything the archive knew: every map, every food store and fortress, every refugee route. He could know every target before Kharvek did. He could also become someone who believed every target belonged to him. That was what scared him most. It wouldn’t feel like he was changing. It would feel like he was helping.

”Target?” Nyra asked.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said, staring at the writing in the fire. ”The binding clause. Not the maps. Not the information in the archive. Not the cities.”

”Witness,” Sable said.

”Witness,” Nyra confirmed.

Austin Veyron thrust his white root chain into the fire wall, and DEVOUR consumed the binding clause.

TARGETS BELONG TO THE ONE WHO NAMES THEM.

He ate belong. It was hard to swallow, sharp at the edges, and he felt empty afterward, as if a piece of his life had been quietly taken from him.

The fire wall broke. The red flames died down into ash and revealed a small door.

The war archive was made up of old military rooms that connected to one another. Iron shelves held maps on every wall. Some showed the Ember Marches. Others showed the coast, the Black Mouth Exchange, and Grand Meridian’s supply routes. Red pins were stuck into the maps, marking food stores, refugee shelters, and wells. String ran from pin to pin, creating lines that led to still more pins. Shelters connected to food routes, and food routes connected to places where soldiers could be stationed. The smell of old paper, lamp oil, and ash hung heavy in the air.

Three mapmakers sat in the middle of the room, chained to a drafting table. Ash guards stood around them, pushing their hands across the map sheets. The mapmakers’ hands were black with ink, and one woman had a bandage on her wrist where the chain had rubbed her skin raw.

”Mark the route,” a guard said, forcing a pen into the nearest mapmaker’s hand. ”Kharvek wants to know the next hunger route.”

”No. These are people,” the mapmaker replied, shaking her head.

”They are points on a map,” the guard said. He said it without any malice at all, which was more disturbing.

”They are people,” Austin Veyron said from the doorway.

The guards turned to face them. The first one threw an ash blade at Nyra, and Sable’s crown shard deflected it. Austin Veyron grabbed the second guard’s wrist while Ceryn ran to free the mapmakers. The guard had a red fever mark on his jaw.

MAP FOR THE WARLORD.

Austin Veyron understood the command. It wanted the guard to see everything on the map as prey, and to follow whatever the map told him.

”Target,” he said. ”The warlord route clause. Not the guard. Not the map.”

”Witness,” Sable said.

DEVOUR consumed warlord from the phrase.

The guard stumbled back from the map table, his eyes wide. ”I’ve been marking attack routes,” he whispered. His voice cracked, and he took another step away from the table as if it were hot.

”You don’t have to do this anymore,” Ceryn said as they cut the mapmakers free of their chains.

The other guards began to hesitate. Without Kharvek’s name holding them in their roles, their fever marks flickered. One put his weapon down, and another tried to escape. Nyra held him in place with a blue-black thread while a relay message went out to Veyra at the outer release route.

”Don’t hurt them if they stop fighting,” Austin Veyron told the mapmakers. ”Head to the relief tunnel.”

The mapmakers hurried across the room, rubbing their wrists where the chains had been and stepping carefully around the guards who had dropped their weapons. The woman who had refused to mark the hunger route picked up a stack of map sheets on her way.

”My name is Tessa,” she said. ”These are maps of the Cinder Refuge Chain. Kharvek is attacking three of our shelters.”

Ceryn laid the maps out on a table, and three red pins lit up: Ashbridge Shelter in the northern ravine, Coalwater Camp along the river road, and Emberline Station near the eastern train line.

”He will use a different method at each one,” Tessa explained. ”At Ashbridge, he will start a panic with a food convoy. Coalwater has a well poisoner, and at Emberline he will have soldiers handing out tainted rations.”

Nyra’s heart shard pointed toward Ashbridge. ”There is more sample residue at Ashbridge,” she said. ”Whatever Kharvek left there is already taking effect.”

”Good job, Devourer,” Kharvek’s voice boomed through the archive. ”Now you can choose who lives.”

A war gate opened at the far end of the room, a doorway of red light forming between two shelves. Kharvek stood on the other side with a pouch of sample shards hanging from his waist.

”Come get me,” he said. ”Or run to your shelters and let people starve.” He patted the pouch, and the shards inside rattled like loose teeth.

Austin Veyron took a step toward the gate. His wrist mark glowed and called for him to follow. DEVOUR wanted to consume the pouch of shards. It wanted to devour Kharvek and end this once and for all. For a second, it made perfect sense. One chase, and he could devour the warlord, and maybe the whole hunger network would fall apart along with him.

Then he heard the wagons moving grain through the release channel outside. He thought of the people at Ashbridge Shelter, starving while a panicked food convoy rolled toward them. He thought of Kharvek trying to force this choice on him. And he remembered what Veyra had told him: You don’t have to do this alone.

He opened his relay token. ”Marcus,” he said. ”We have three targets. Send the network.”

Marcus answered after a flash of white light. ”Sending help to all three locations. Which one are you going to?”

”Ashbridge Shelter,” Austin Veyron replied, looking at Tessa’s map. ”It has a live sample.”

Kharvek grinned at him through the red light of the war gate. ”I expected that.”

”It’s not about what you expect,” Austin Veyron said. ”It’s about what I’m responsible for.”

Kharvek backed through the war gate, and the doorway started to close.

”He’s heading east,” Rin’s voice came through the relay from the outer wall. ”I can follow the gate trail if we go now.”

”Don’t follow him alone,” Austin Veyron said. ”Mark the trail and get back to the grain route.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the relay, long enough that he could almost hear Rin weighing it. Then it clicked once, and Rin marked the gate trail on Tessa’s map in thin white light.

The war gate closed, and the archive began to burn.

Red ash crept over the lower shelves, trying to destroy the maps. The paper curled and blackened, and the red pins melted into glowing beads that dripped onto the floor. Ceryn and Tessa rolled up the most important maps and tucked them inside their coats, away from the sparks. Nyra used her heart shard to push the fire back from the relief route maps, and Sable walked through the smoke, clearing target marks with her crown shard wherever she could reach them.

They escaped the room just as the ceiling collapsed behind them. Veyra was waiting at the tunnel with Arin and the grain convoy guards.

”We have enough grain for today,” Veyra told them. She had ash in her hair and dirt on her arms, but she looked relieved to see them safe. Behind her, the wagons were rolling out of the tunnel in a slow, neat line.

”Not enough for everyone,” Tessa said, holding up the Cinder Refuge Chain maps. She wasn’t arguing. She was just stating a fact, tired and certain, and no one argued with her.

Austin Veyron looked north toward Ashbridge Shelter, where the ravine smoke hung low against the sky. His wrist mark was dimmer now, but it was still moving. He knew it would keep moving until every last sample shard was destroyed. Grand Meridian’s white network pulsed through his relay token, sending help toward Coalwater and Emberline.

There were still people starving in the Ember Marches. Somewhere, he would have to pay for the decision he had made. But at least he knew where to start.

Ashbridge Shelter.