What now?
A half-charged Thunder-stone might hurt her, but thrown like this it would never land.
Just then, from deep within the sewers, a strange, low keening rose and held.
The Black Priest's face changed in an instant."Damn it.""How is it this fast?" she whispered, barely audible.
Rhod didn't hear the words so much as read them on her lips.
The wail continued. The Black Priest grew agitated, grabbed Rhod by the collar, and dragged him at a dead run toward the depths.Karamon followed, blank-eyed, like a puppet.
After several hundred meters, the air turned fouler, a metallic stench so thick it burned the lungs.A sudden shiver gripped Rhod's heart—as if something ahead were calling to him.
Before he could make sense of it, his vision flipped—she had hurled him forward. He crashed hard against the clammy stone.
He bit down on a groan, clutching the Thunder-stone, and kept still.The Black Priest didn't spare him a glance. She took out a finely worked box, eased the lid open, and teased out a wisp of green fluff, sprinkling it with reverent care before her.
Thump… thump.Thump… thump.
A sound—like a heartbeat—drummed in Rhod's skull.
He risked a look. Before the Priest, a gigantic heart was beating in the open. With each pulse, the sound boomed inside his head. Black mist streamed in from all sides, funneling through exposed vessels into the heart.Flesh darkened from within, staining black.
And Rhod understood.
The corruption. It's this thing. It's absorbing the black fog.What he'd seen in the plaza—this was the source.This had to be a Doomsday ritual site. The monsters were likely theirs too.
She hadn't brought him to witness the rite. He was the offering.
Bad.As soon as she finished with the green powder, she'd likely cut him open.
The Thunder-stone in his hand was almost fully lit now. At that strength, from this range, he might kill her——but the blast would probably kill him first.
It was still his only chance.
He inched sideways, as quietly and quickly as numb limbs allowed.
"Little bug," the Black Priest said, voice cold behind him. "Behave. Or I promise you greater pain."
Rhod's chest tightened. She didn't follow, though—her focus stayed on the rite.She must have dismissed him as harmless, unworthy of attention. Bowing low, she circled the heart like a penitent before a relic, laying down ring after ring of green fluff.
Her back turned. Rhod didn't hesitate. He lobbed the charged stone.
A curtain of mist flung itself from her body and wrapped the projectile."Pathetic. Your flailing will only make your end worse. Before true power, your paltry—"
BOOM.
Blue-white light tore through the fog.Silver snakes of lightning flowered wide, turning the tunnel day-bright.
The blast outstripped Rhod's estimates. The backlash knocked him flat; a crushing numbness stole feeling from every limb.
When the glare died, he forced his stiff neck to turn.
The black heart still beat, slower now.The Black Priest lay on the ground, blue arcs still crawling over her. The fog hooding her head had not dispersed.
Rhod's stomach sank.
He remembered exactly what Green-hair had said: this fog was vaporized soul-power, a technique only high-tiers could use—concealing, masking flux, muffling sight.If the fog remained, its master still lived.
As if to prove it, the Priest groaned—body jerking—then stirred.
A steel-needle tension stabbed Rhod's heart. He bullied his frozen hand to move, dug into the gray pouch, and found another stone.His fingers felt like cotton; his energy ran like sludge—slow to pour.
"You little bastard," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You dare disrupt a Seal Rite?"
She staggered to her feet. The strike had ravaged her—she could barely stand. She reached for her twin-blade, but lingering arcs snapped through her body and kicked her hand away.
"You wretch." Gone was the gentle prefect from the Civic Hall; only hatred remained."I'll gut you first. The rite won't suffer for it."
She shuffled toward him, step by step.
Rhod tried to throw early, but his arm wouldn't obey; the hand stayed buried in the pouch. He blurted, "Don't come any closer! I've still got stones!"
She snorted. "You only lit your fire less than half a month ago, little fire-keeper. After spending that much energy, one full-charge throw was already a surprise. Your soul is bone-dry. If you can still prime a Thunder-stone—" she spat, "—I'll eat every turd in this sewer."
Her gait steadied as the numbness faded.
Rhod, panicking, heaved his arm—and at last tore it free. A stone sat in his palm, runes lit to a third.
His joints still ignored him. He swung his body, flicked his elbow, and let the stone drop in an awkward arc.
The Priest jolted. "What—you still—"
CRACK.
The one-third charge exploded point-blank. She couldn't dodge.The flash wasn't as blinding as before, but Rhod's clumsy toss kept it close. The shockwave threw him again.
She had it worse. The blast ripped open her priest's robe; scorched smoke curled off her skin. She sailed backward and hit hard, lying still for a long moment before she crawled up.
Still alive.Terror pricked Rhod. He reached for the pouch again—only to find the numbness back in full, locking him in place.
"I'll kill you myself," she breathed, hatred thick enough to taste—then, in a blink, her tone turned honeyed."Karamon, heal me."
Rhod's heart lurched. His neck wouldn't turn; he peered from the corner of his eye.
Karamon stood in the distance, untouched by the blasts, eyes still flooded with black. Hands pressed together, he murmured, "Yes, my Lady."
A wave of blue water fell——onto Rhod.
The numbness thinned at once. Rhod plunged his hand into the pouch and grabbed another stone, pouring power in with everything he had.
"You idiot," the Priest snarled. "Me! Heal me!"
A blue ripple struck her as well—but it was far smaller than Rhod's.
"Useless trash!" she spat. "What a waste, profaning the rite on you. I should've picked White Smoke Aegor—pity he hates women taller than him. Ugh."
She got to her feet and came at Rhod faster now, though her steps still wobbled."Don't come closer!" Rhod yelled. "I really do have another stone!"
"If you still have the power to arm one," she sneered, "I'll kneel right here and eat what your dog leaves in your yard."
She quickened. Rhod had no choice—he flung the stone at half charge.
"You—still—" She tried to roll, but her limbs betrayed her. The blast caught her square.
Lightning hurled her away again. What remained of her robe shredded, revealing a body swathed in clinging mist. The vapor absorbed much of the strike, but not all.
She crashed down and seized up under the returning paralysis.Rhod, for the third time, was blasted off his feet by his own throw.
"Kar—Karamon!" she screamed. "Go kill him!"
Karamon drew the black dagger—and walked toward her.
"It's him!" she barked. "The man! Him!"
Karamon turned in place, eyes glassy, spinning twice as if unsure who him was.
"Useless," she snarled. "I hit you too hard—fried what passed for your brain. Don't kill—heal. Heal me."
Blue light fell on Rhod again.The face beneath the fog contorted. "Me, you idiot! How did your mother manage to birth such a brainless fool? Heal your Lady!"
A smaller ripple washed over her.
She ground her teeth to powder. Fine. I'll finish that brat first and come back for you.
The paralysis drained from her limbs. She surged up and sprinted at Rhod. Time was bleeding away; the Cursed Heart had matured early—if the White Tower's Eye noticed, new Watchers would arrive. She had to finish the rite now.
"Don't come any closer!" Rhod shouted. "I swear I've still got another stone—look!"
A charged Thunder-stone couldn't be pulled from the pouch without triggering. Show it, and it would behave like a grenade with the pin out—only one ending.Rhod lifted the pouch mouth, trying to let her glimpse the glow in his palm.
"We can walk away from this," he bargained hoarsely. "You let me go, and I forget this ever happened."
She laughed, breathless with rage. "Do I look three years old to you?"
From her angle, she couldn't see a thing inside the pouch.
"I stopped falling for that trick ten years ago," she said, voice turning vicious. "If you still have the strength to arm a stone, I'll spend the rest of my days camped in your privy—eating your filth and drinking your piss."