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Chapter 541: The Mists of Bloodfang Association

Two days later, Roland received Iffy again.

The change in her was visible. Color had returned to her face; her eyes held something more complicated now — a layered, guarded weight that made her look less like a weapon and more like a person.

“Lady Heidi Morgan wishes to meet you.” Iffy bowed. “She cannot come herself, so she asked Princess Tilly to send us here.” Her opening words surprised him. “Lady Heidi does not care for Her Highness. She believes combat witches are the true core of Sleeping Island — that the Bloodfang Association should not be treated as an ordinary witch organization. She wants your help to change that. She promises to offer more than Tilly offers.” A pause. “Though I know you don’t need anything from her.”

“Tell me about the Bloodfang Association,” Roland said, resting his chin on his hand.

“Yes…”

The telling took the better part of an hour. By the end, Roland’s frown had settled into something harder.

“Does Tilly know any of this?”

“I don’t know.” Iffy shook her head. “Lady Heidi forbids us from speaking of the Association’s past, and she seldom speaks with Her Highness herself.”

“And the other organizations on Sleeping Island?”

“They draw close to the Graycastle witches — particularly after the Sleeping Spell was established. Some combat witches agree with Lady Heidi privately, but most have no wish to stand against Ashes.”

So the weight on Tilly’s shoulders is not so much lighter than mine.

He turned this over slowly. His own position was clear: rightful ruler of the Western Region, his authority backed by law and force. Sleeping Island was something else — a loose covenant, a gathering of survivors who had come to Tilly on their own terms. She held no formal power over the smaller groups. She had only her judgment, her patience, and the stage she had built for those witches the world called useless.

The bounty guild was clever precisely because of this. An assistant witch who could complete missions and live well had no reason to resent the woman who made that possible. Tilly had understood something essential: a slogan means nothing. Changed lives mean everything.

Which was exactly why Heidi Morgan could not wait.

The daughter of Archduke Morgan — and yet she had refused to shelter a single non-combat witch. It was not poverty. It was a policy. All that the Bloodfang Association was, had ever been, was a force assembled to fight for Heidi’s interests. And her obsession with Wolfheart ran through everything Iffy had described like a vein of iron.

Roland would need to write to Tilly. Soon.

“Didn’t Heidi forbid you from speaking of any of this?” He knocked lightly on the desk. “Have you decided to stop following her orders?”

Iffy bit her lip. “I want to join the Witch Union.”

He stopped knocking.

He had anticipated that seeing the firearms would shake the combat witches’ certainty — but he had not expected this. Not so quickly, not so completely.

“But you hurt Maggie,” he said. “Right now I can’t simply—”

“Punish me however you like.”

Iffy opened her robe.

From behind, a pair of hands covered Roland’s eyes — Nightingale, reflexively stepping out of the Mist to shield him, though her translucent fingers let the light through.

Iffy lowered the robe and turned her back.

Roland’s breath caught.

The scars covered her entirely — a map of old violence, raised and pale, crisscrossing the delicate skin in every direction. Healed too long ago for Nana to smooth away. When Iffy had described the Bloodfang Association’s training, she had used precise, economical language, as though she were recounting someone else’s experience. He understood now what that restraint had cost her.

“Put on your clothes,” he said quietly.

“Your Majesty—”

Nightingale had materialized fully, drawing Iffy’s robe back up to her shoulders without ceremony.

“If you want to join the Witch Union, don’t bring the Bloodfang Association’s methods with you.” Roland pressed down the tightness rising in his chest. “Apply to Wendy. Whether the other witches accept you will depend on what you show them.” He paused. “Regardless — Neverwinter is home to witches. You can stay here even if you don’t join.”

Iffy’s shoulders dropped, a slow release. “Thank you… for your kindness.”


After she left, Roland rose and walked to the tall window, exhaling slowly toward the grey sky.

His team for capturing the demon was complete. He should have felt ready.

“She’s lucky, in her way,” Nightingale said, appearing at his side.

“You call that luck?”

“Compared with Annie.” Her voice was even. “At least Iffy is alive. If the Bloodfang Association is truly the only witch organization to survive in Wolfheart, its members would have died terribly if the Church or the nobility ever found them. That’s why the witches longed for the Holy Mountain so desperately.”

A question surfaced. “Heidi claimed she sent the non-combat witches to other organizations — but how would she have known where to find them? Organizations move constantly. Their locations are their lives. No leader shares that with anyone they don’t trust completely.” He shook his head. “And even if she did know — why would those organizations accept strangers thrown at them without warning? The risk of exposure alone—”

The more he followed the thread, the more the knot tightened.

Nightingale had confirmed Iffy wasn’t lying.

Which meant the problem did not lie with Iffy. It lay somewhere in the Association’s origins — in who had founded it, and why, and what they had been willing to do.

Heidi Morgan was not loyal to witches.

He had suspected it. Now he was certain.

He needed to reach Tilly before Heidi did anything she couldn’t take back.

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