Radeon let his vision slip. The world dimmed at the edges as his eye ability woke.
Threads appeared. Thin black strands clung to every body in the array, winding around limbs and throats, all of them pulsing with the slow chill of death.
Then he saw the dust. Tiny specks of gold rose from the carved lines at their feet, drifting like sand caught in a current.
The motes flowed in a single steady stream, all of them drawn under the dark passage he had used to enter. Back the way he had come.
'Their deaths. Their strength. All funneled into whatever's waiting up there.'
"Senior, I nearly forgot. My master asked me to go over some work on arrays with him. I'd best return, for now," Radeon said.
"Ah, a pity then," the gilded core guard said with a grin. "Come by whenever you're free. My brother will be here, he'll be the one to show you around, if you've a mind for it. And tell Master Jekyll he has this old fellow's regards."
Radeon rushed back toward the tunnel, urgency burning in his steps. He needed a bed and darkness, needed to let his eyes knit themselves whole again before the strain turned to real damage.
He would not risk a few hours of muddle headed weakness under Jekyll's roof. If the man caught even a hint of what he truly was, he would strip Radeon to the bone and sort him into pieces.
At best he would wake as a bound spirit artifact. At worst he would never wake at all, only linger as a hollow soul puppet stuffed into a doll or a corpse.
The thought kept his steps sharp as he climbed out of the tunnel and into the dim side passage.
He did not go straight back. Instead he cut along a different route, one that brushed the outer kitchens.
It was not the safest choice, but Radeon held to one quiet belief.
To squeeze the most from every moment, the body had to be fed.
Radeon pulled his hood up as he walked. The cloth shadowed his face and warned off idle talk.
He had no patience for gossip now. Yet when he rounded the next corner he slowed.
A cluster of seniors and fellow cornerstone stage cultists had gathered ahead, their heads bent close.
Their voices were low and tight, nothing like casual chatter. Something weighty sat in the middle of that circle.
"Scouts came back with word. The righteous sects are on the move."
"So soon? Hah. We ought to lay a wager, see who draws first blood."
"That lot's in an awful rush to die, aren't they?"
Radeon felt his gut tighten at the news. If they launched the attack tomorrow, the array he had carved only hours ago would not have time to ripen.
At most it would yield a low grade blood vitality crystal. Enough for some. For him it felt like stopping halfway up a climb when the peak was already in sight.
Then, his thoughts slid to Fay.
Where was she now. Was she keeping her head above whatever mess fate had thrown in her path.
Radeon did not gnaw on the worry too long. Heavenly children were rarely so unlucky.
They tended to trip over fortunes instead of graves, their steps nudged by a luck that always seemed to lean in their favor.
Not wanting to linger and get dragged into talk, he reached for a cured animal leg hanging from the rack.
The warehouse keeper narrowed his eyes at the bold grab. Radeon set five stones on the counter with a soft clack. The man's gaze dropped. His face eased.
Radeon took a large waterskin next and gave the man a questioning look.
The keeper only flicked his fingers in a lazy wave, already pleased with the stones and in no mood to make trouble over one more thing.
Radeon caught one of the seniors lifting a hand, ready to wave him over and drag him into the knot of talk. They knew him as the one with answers.
The last thing he wanted was questions.
So he ducked his head and burst into a run, ham under one arm and waterskin bumping at his hip, feet slapping the stone with just enough clumsy haste to look like a boy sent on some urgent errand.
By the time the senior's hand finished its wave, Radeon was already vanishing down the passage.
Back in his narrow stone cell, Radeon tore into the cured meat.
He ate fast, all teeth and tendon, yet his hands stayed neat and careful, grease never roaming where it did not belong.
By the time a kettle would have come to a boil, the great ham was nothing but bone. Warmth settled in his belly instead of emptiness.
He wiped his fingers clean and folded himself into a cross legged seat on the pallet.
One by one he shuttered his senses, letting lantern glow, smoke, and distant footsteps slide away until nothing remained but breath and the slow turn of qi.
Rest came hard and swift. When he opened his eyes his mind felt clear and the strain behind his sight had faded.
Radeon rose at once and slipped back to the passage where soul and blood essence were being stripped from the captives.
There he called on his eye ability again. Golden dust bloomed at the edge of his vision, tiny motes drifting in a steady stream that pointed northwest.
The way ahead was unknown to him, yet he followed, trusting the faint glimmers from his eyes of fate to pull him deeper into the unseen corridors.
Radeon studied the cloak. Three spirit stones were sewn into its lining. The one at the right edge lay cold and untouched. The one the left had already crumbled into dull dust.
The middle stone still glimmered faintly, yet only half of its former luster clung to it now.
'Good for at least forty-five minutes.'
As he walked he began to sort his thoughts. He weighed the risks of tampering further with the array and measured how far the treasure behind the siege it could be pushed to his own gain.
Each path he traced ended in teeth. If the sect caught the scent of his meddling, the trap would spring on him first.
He considered what might happen if he was penned in with them when the net drew tight.
Jekyll's face rose in his mind, all hunger and calculation. Perhaps the man would toss a few privilege in front of a useful hound.
"We'll see."