Aden tilted the vial, and the scent that billowed out wasn't just a smell—it was a memory of things that shouldn't exist. It smelled of ozone, of ancient, dust-covered libraries, and the cold, metallic tang of a winter morning just before the first snow. It was purity in its most predatory form.
As the first drop of the golden essence hit the dark, iridescent water in the basin, the reaction was instantaneous.
The water hissed upon contact.
A low, rhythmic thrumming began to vibrate through the stone floor, matching the frantic heartbeat of the twenty Vassals. The golden liquid began to thread through it like veins of light in a dead body.
"Lord..." Zero whispered, his head still pressed to the dust.
Aden felt the Ring on his finger grow ice-cold. As he poured the rest of the vial, his vision flickered. For a split second, he didn't see a cellar. He saw a vast, empty expanse of silver sand under a black sun—the First Star Lorelei had mentioned.
