Chapter Twentyseven
Siurad sat on the stone slab, staring at a blank wall.
He was bored.
Everything had started smoothly enough. Almere had marched him into the room, pointed at the bed, and stood by the door. Siurad had taken a seat, slumped his shoulders, and engaged his Screensaver Mode.
For the first ten minutes, he just made random grunts and groans to keep up appearances.
“Hnnng.”
“Guh.”
But as the silence stretched on, his mind began to wander. He started daydreaming about his old life. He wondered if he would ever witness the majestic cultural phenomenon of twerking again. Would he ever taste a Popeyes biscuit without needing a gallon of water? Would he ever smell the sweet, chemical aroma of a Black & Mild burning on a porch in November?
Life’s most important questions invaded his mind.
He shifted his weight and realized Almere hadn't left. The guard was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Siurad with the intensity of a zoo keeper watching a animal that had figured out how to pick locks.
Siurad decided to test the waters. He turned his head slowly and let out an inquisitive grunt.
“Argh?”
Almere didn't blink. He just stared.
Siurad tried a different tactic. He stood up to his full height, rolled his shoulders to emphasize the black steel plate, and let out a guttural roar of intimidation.
“ GARRRH! ”
No luck. Almere didn't flinch. He just looked tired.
“Look,” Almere said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sir Tiny... I am tasked with watching you until Tricia returns. Technically, she is the applicant. You are... equipment. Protocol states I cannot leave unsecured heavy assets unattended.”
“GARGHHM,” Siurad grumbled, which roughly translated to "This sucks.”
He sat back down and turned to face the wall again.
Obi, Siurad projected. What's Yonas status report? I’m dying of boredom here. The guard thinks I’m furniture.
'…THE FOX IS RETURNING,' Obi replied, his voice calm in Siurad’s skull. '…SHE HAS SUCCESSFULLY NAVIGATED THE SOCIAL LABYRINTH. SHE IS CURRENTLY WALKING DOWN THE HALL.'
Good, Siurad thought. I can drop the act soon.
Siurad leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.
And then he froze.
There it was. The Bane. The Nemesis. The enemy that spanned multiple dimensions.
Hanging from a single, invisible thread, directly above his face, was a spider. It wasn't some whimsical magic infused monster. It was worse. It was a fuzzy, brown jumping spider with white marks on its abdomen, roughly the size of a gold coin.
It was descending. Rapidly.
Siurad’s breath hitched. His heart rate spiked from a resting 60 to 140 in a single second.
Obi, Siurad thought, his mental voice cracking with panic. It’s coming towards me.
'… IT IS NOT A THREAT, Obi droned. '…IT IS AN ARACHNID. MASS: 2 GRAMS. TOXICITY: NON-LETHAL.'
I don’t care about the math! Siurad screamed internally as the spider dropped another inch, its legs wiggling in the air. It’s descending! I can’t move! If I move, I break character! If I stay, it lands on my face!
'…YOU DEFEATED AN URSAURUS,' Obi pointed out ruthlessly. '…YET YOU FEAR THE BUG.'
IT’S NOT A BUG, IT’S A MONSTER! BURN IT! USE THE VOID! NUKE THE ROOM!
'…INEFFICIENT.'
The spider swung like a pendulum, inching closer to Siurad’s nose. Siurad began to sweat, a cold, clammy terror that no amount of necromancy could suppress.
“Hrrrn...” Siurad whimpered aloud, the sound high-pitched and distinctly un-Tiny-like.
The spider dropped.
It rappelled down with the mission precision of a spec-ops soldier and landed softly, fuzzily, right on the bridge of Siurad’s nose.
Siurad went cross-eyed. He could feel the tiny legs. He could see the multiple eyes staring into his soul.
GET IT OFF! Siurad screamed internally. OBI, DO SOMETHING! KILL US BOTH! I DON’T CARE!
'…OVERREACTION,' Obi sighed.
The spider moved. It tickled.
Siurad’s Tiny persona cracked. Pure, primal repulsion took over. But his survival instinct ,the part that knew Almere was watching, hijacked the reaction at the last second.
Siurad roared.
“GRAAAH!”
He clenched both fists and slammed them down onto the stone slab he was sitting on. The impact was terrifying. The solid rock bench didn't just crack; it shattered, exploding into dust and gravel beneath his black steel gauntlets.
At the same time, he whipped his head forward, headbutting the air, dislodging the spider, with enough force to snap a normal man's neck.
Debris flew everywhere. Dust filled the room.
Almere jumped three feet in the air, his hand flying to his sword.
“What the hells?!” Almere shouted, coughing in the dust cloud.
Siurad sat amidst the rubble of the bench, breathing heavily. The spider was gone, most likely vaporized by the shockwave or flung into the debris.
Siurad slowly looked up at the terrified guard. He needed an excuse. He needed a reason for the outburst.
He pointed a shaking, armored finger at the floor.
“Bug,” Siurad grunted.
Almere stared at the destroyed stone slab. Then at Siurad. Then at the spot on the floor.
“You...” Almere blinked. “You destroyed a reinforced sleeping slab... because of a bug?”
Siurad nodded solemnly. “Big bug.”
Almere slowly took his hand off his sword. He didn't look suspicious anymore. He looked terrified and slightly pitiable.
“Right,” Almere whispered. “Okay. Good job, Tiny. You... you got him.”
'…PATHETIC,' Obi noted. '…BUT EFFECTIVE.'
At that exact moment, the heavy iron door creaked open.
Yona stepped in, freezing as she took in the scene: The dust cloud, the terrified guard, and Siurad sitting in a pile of gravel.
She looked at Siurad. She saw the sheer panic still lingering in his eyes. She looked at the floor and saw a single, twitching spider leg.
She smirked.
“I leave you alone for ten minutes,” Yona sighed, shaking her head. “Almere, you can go. I’ll handle him. He gets cranky when he sees spiders.”
Almere edged toward the door, keeping his back to the wall. “He... he’s all yours, Tricia. I’ll be... anywhere else.”
The guard fled.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Siurad slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.
“It touched me, Yona,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It had fur.”
“Toughen up, buttercup,” Yona said, dismissing his trauma with a wave of her hand. “I come bearing intel. First off, Alexander is currently resting in a beautiful suite with a nice cozy bed. It's weird. I think they want him to relax for the ritual. Marinating the meat, so to speak.”
“Okay…” Siurad murmured, his eyes darting to the corners of the ceiling, searching for other eight-legged abominations. “Go on.”
“Secondly, there’s a meeting soon. After that, I get access to the Archives,” Yona continued, counting on her fingers. “Thirdly, I figured out our exit strategy. They have a collection of monsters downstairs, including a very big, very bored Shadow Wolf that I’m pretty sure wants to be your best friend.”
Siurad paused his spider-scan. “The wolf?”
“The wolf. I think he’ll make the perfect distraction. We hit the archives, I pop the locks on the cages, we grab the Saint while everyone is screaming, and we boogie.”
“So, if I follow,” Siurad said, rubbing his temple. “You want to heist the library, start a monster riot, kidnap the priest, and then dip?”
“Exactly,” she said with a toothy grin. “Simple.”
“What if they try to sacrifice Alexander before that?”
“Pfft. You see Amadeo?” Yona scoffed. “He definitely has a sacrificial boner for Alexander. He wants everything perfect. He’s probably giving the Saint a back rub as we speak. He won't make a move until the ceremony.”
'…THE MONKEY RODENT IS A CREEP,' Obi pulsed.
Siurad frowned, looking at his hand. “What is with all this monkey talk lately? You usually just call them mortals.”
'…DID I OFFEND YOUR PRIMITIVE GENETIC BLOODLINE?' Obi retorted, the vibration sharp and defensive.
Siurad squinted at the ring, then looked at Yona. “Yona... did you piss him off?”
Yona inspected her fingernails, feigning innocence. “We had a creative difference.”
'…SHE CALLED ME A STICKER,' Obi broadcasted, his tone dripping with divine outrage.
Siurad let out a short bark of laughter. “You called an ancient cosmic entity... a sticker?”
“He was being annoying!” Yona defended herself. “Besides, he started it.”
'…INSOLENCE,' Obi muttered, fading into a sullen hum.
“Alright,” Siurad said, standing up and dusting the rock fragments from his armor. He did one last check for spiders, then nodded. “Let’s get ready for the meeting.”
Within the hour, Almere returned. But this time, he didn't come alone. He brought three other grey-robed cultists with him, all keeping their hands near their weapons. The sight of the pulverized stone slab clearly inspired some caution.
“Sister Tricia,” Almere announced from the safety of the doorway. “If you are ready, the meeting is about to convene.”
“Thank you so much, Brother Almere,” Yona said, adjusting her gear. “Tiny, let's go.”
“Arghh,” Siurad grunted, standing up and shuffling toward the door with his best lobotomized henchman walk.
“Just... follow us,” Almere said, keeping a very healthy distance from the duo.
As they walked down the corridor, the silence was oppressive.
I’m bored, Siurad projected to the Ring. I’m going to have some fun.
'…THE VESSEL INTENDS TO ENTERTAIN HIMSELF,' Obi relayed the message to Yona immediately.
Yona glanced up at Siurad, her eyes widening. She plastered a look of absolute NO across her face, shaking her head slightly.
‘Tell him NO, Obi!’ she projected frantically. ‘We’re undercover! They might overreact!’
'…THE FOX THINKS IT IS UNWISE,' the Ring pulsed.
There was a sudden, distinct moment of contemplation. A pause where Siurad could practically feel Obi weighing the pros and cons, or perhaps just remembering being called a "sticker."
'…DO IT,' Obi commanded.
Siurad grinned internally. He took a deep breath and broke out into a sudden, distraught wail that echoed off the cavern walls.
“ARGHHHH! MULEYYYY!”
He stomped his feet, shaking the floorboards. He raised his armored fists in the air like he was cursing the gods themselves.
“MULEYYYY! WHY?!”
Almere spun around, his eyes popping out of his head. The three cultists behind him drew their daggers in a panic, backing away from the wailing giant.
“Sister Tricia!” one of them shouted, his voice cracking. “We ask that you calm your servant immediately! He is unstable!”
“MULEEEYYY!” Siurad cried, adding a fake sob that sounded like a dying walrus.
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Yona shouted, waving her hands. “He just gets emotional sometimes! His mule was murdered when he was a child! It was... mule-on-mule violence! Very traumatic!”
“MULEYYYYY!”
Thwack.
Yona kicked him hard in the shin. Again.
“Quiet, Tiny!” she barked. She looked at the terrified cultists with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. Sometimes violence is the only thing that keeps the big brute in line. He’s very sensitive about equine crime.”
'…EXCELLENT PERFORMANCE,' Obi noted dryly.
Siurad sniffled loudly, wiped his nose on his gauntlet, and slumped back into silence.
“Hrn,” he grunted.
Almere stared at them for a long, horrified second. Then, he slowly sheathed his weapon.
“Right,” Almere whispered. “Let’s... let’s just get to the hall.”
The rest of the walk went off without a hitch. Obi pulsed with the smug satisfaction of getting one up on Yona. Siurad was just happy to get his revenge for her dismissal of the eight-legged monstrosity earlier in the tunnels. Yona, seething internally, walked in silence, already calculating the perfect moment to enact her revenge.
They arrived at the Hall of Communion. It was a cavernous chamber, dominated by a large stone table and high-backed chairs. In the shadowy corners stood undead abominations, clumsy things, cobbled together from mismatched bones of different species.
At the table sat Amadeo, Gresha, a terrified Alexander, and at the head sat a man they had not seen before. He was frail, with dark, sunken eyes and gaunt facial features that made him appear to be a walking corpse himself.
“Please sit,” he said, his voice carrying a sophisticated, practiced inflection. “I am George Phaust. In your short stay, I have heard much about you. Tricia... you brought me a priest. But you also brought us help. We lack muscle, which you have provided, we have many issues that need to be solved.”
Phaust gestured vaguely at the ceiling. “Our leader is currently out shoring up the perimeter with his guardians. He has been… paranoid as of late. Your servant could help keep the watch while you ingratiate yourself in the ways of Peronin.”
“Brother George, nothing would make me happier than being able to contribute to this great cause,” Yona said, bowing her head slightly.
'…DESPICABLE,' Obi pulsed with irritation.
“ARGHH,” Siurad muttered, offering his best interpretation of Tiny’s approval.
“The priest,” Amadeo cut in, his eyes darting hungrily toward the captive Alexander. “A most glorious sacrifice. He will please Vex.”
“Vex?” Yona asked.
Gresha nodded. “He is the High Priest of Peronin. He is the leader of our establishment.”
The Ring on Siurad’s finger grew cold.
'…VEX?' Obi hissed in Siurad’s mind. '…THE AUTHORITY HAD A VEX. HE WOULD NEVER DEAL WITH SUCH RODENTS. IMPOSTER.'
Your Vex is long gone, Obi. Let me work, Yona shot back mentally.
A heavy, rhythmic thud marked the sound of something approaching from the hallway. The floor vibrated. Dust fell from the ceiling.
“Speak of the devil,” Gresha whispered, looking toward the entrance with genuine fear.
The heavy iron doors didn't creak open. They were shoved.
With a groan of twisting metal, the doors swung inward, revealing three figures standing in the gloom.
The first two were monstrosities. They were towering constructs of fused bone, tall and wide at the shoulder. They looked like walking fortress walls, their ribs reinforced with layers of extraneous femurs and skulls, polished to a dull, ivory gleam.
The one on the left wore a hat. A tattered, ancient red velvet cape that barely covered its massive shoulder blades. A single monocle was fused into its eye socket.
The one on the right was equally massive, a hulking tank of calcium, but it wore a faded, oversized floral sundress that strained against its enormous ribcage. A delicate straw sun hat was perched atop its terrifying skull.
Between them walked a man who looked tired and weathered.
He was tall and gaunt, his skin the color of old parchment. He wore robes of deep midnight blue that seemed to absorb the light, and his eyes burned with a sickly, flickering green fire.
“High Priest Vex!” Amadeo gasped, dropping to his knees. “We... we were not ready! The preparations—”
Vex didn't even look at him. He didn't look at Phaust. He didn't look at the captive. His gaze fell squarely on Siurad.
He walked straight toward the giant.
The two bone golems flanked him, their heavy footsteps shaking the floorplates. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Vex stopped three feet from Siurad. He looked up, his green eyes scanning the warrior's face, before dropping to the hand resting on the sword hilt. To the Ring.
Vex froze. His breath hitched in a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob.
Siurad stiffened, his thumb clicking the sword loose.
'…WAIT,' Obi’s voice commanded. The voice in Siurad’s head was usually arrogant or bored. Now, it sounded... stunned.
'…LOOK AT THE HAT.'
Siurad blinked. “The... hat?”
'…THE STRAW HAT AND THE CAPE.'
Obi’s presence in the Ring swelled, vibrating with a confused delight.
'…TORIAN MADE THOSE. HE MADE THOSE FOR STEVE AND JULIA.'
Vex took a trembling step forward. He looked like a man seeing a ghost. His terrifying aura flickered, revealing the desperate, ancient man beneath.
“The Void,” Vex whispered. His voice was cracked, unused. “It’s... It’s...”
He reached out a shaking hand toward Siurad.
“Tiny!” Yona barked, trying to intervene. “Don’t let him touch you! He’s—”
“Silence,” Vex whispered. The air in the room grew instantly cold, and Yona’s voice died in her throat, choked off by fear.
Vex looked at the Ring. Tears of black, viscous ichor, began to well in his glowing green eyes.
'…ASK HIM,' Obi whispered. '…THE CODE. ASK HIM IF THE TAFFETA CHAFES.'
Siurad looked at the weeping necromancer, then at the two eight-foot skeletons looming over him. He felt ridiculous. He cleared his throat.
“Hey,” Siurad grunted, his deep voice echoing in the silent room. “My friend... he wants to know something.”
Vex looked up, his face wet with black tears. “What?” he choked out.
“He wants to know if the taffeta still chafes.”
The silence that followed was absolute. George Phaust looked confused. Amadeo looked terrified.
Vex closed his eyes. His shoulders shook. For a second, Siurad thought the man was laughing, but then he realized he was weeping.
“The taffeta turned to dust three millennia ago,” Vex sobbed, his voice breaking. “We wear silk now. It breathes better in the crypts.”
'…IT IS HIM.'
Obi’s voice wasn't loud. It was soft.
'...LYSANDER HAS LOST THIS WAGER.'
Siurad could feel the somber emotions resonating within the Ring.
Vex fell.
He collapsed, hitting his knees with a thud, burying his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably at Siurad’s feet.
“I lost them, Master!” Vex wailed, the sound tearing out of his throat. “When the Protocol hit... when Lysander scattered us... I tried to hold on! I tried to go back! I wanted to save them!”
He looked up, his face a mask of ancient grief.
“Only two skeletons came with me! I only saved Steve and Julia! The rest of the division... is locked inside the Citadel. It has been just us, Master. For three thousand, five hundred years... just us.”
A sob escaped his lips.
The two massive bone golems stepped forward.
The one with the cape, Steve, slowly knelt on one knee, the floor cracking under his weight. He lowered his massive, anvil-sized head. The one in the sundress, Julia did the same, bowing with a terrifying, heavy grace.
“Vex?” Phaust stepped forward, his sophisticated veneer cracking. “What is this? Who is this man? You are the Voice of Peronin! You—”
Vex spun around on his knees. The grief vanished, replaced by a snarl of pure, incandescent rage.
“I AM THE KEEPER OF THE BONE WARD!” Vex roared, the green fire flaring up and scorching the ceiling. “HIGH NECROMANCER OF THE OBSIDIAN AUTHORITY!”
He turned back to Siurad, grabbing the giant’s greaves like a lifeline.
“I built them into something Xara would be proud of, Master,” Vex blubbered, gesturing to the hulking constructs. “I knew you would need muscle when you returned. I reinforced the ribcages. I fused the femurs. I kept the hat, Master! I kept the hat safe!”
'…YOU DID WELL VEX,' Obi said. The Ring pulsed, the usual cold fading into something steady. '…YOU DID VERY WELL. STEVE LOOKS ROBUST.'
“He says... Steve looks robust,” Siurad translated awkwardly.
Vex let out a wet, hysterical laugh. “He is! He can punch through a castle gate! And Julia... Julia can crush a carriage with one hand!”
Vex scrambled to his feet, wiping the black tears from his face. He looked manic, energized by a purpose he hadn't felt in eras.
“Wait,” Siurad said. “You’re the leader of this cult? The ones trying to summon Peronin?”
“Peronin was a cover!” Vex shouted, waving his staff. “i created thin coven to get idiots to gather mana for me! I have been trying to summon Kivuli all this time.”
“Kivuli?” Yona asked.
'…RAIMI GAVE ME THAT NAME.'
“Leave us,” Vex said, staring at the obsidian ring. “We have much to discuss.”
The silence in the room was like a breathless vacuum following a detonation.
Yona stared at Siurad, her eyes wide. They had heard the ring, Obi, ramble about the Authority for weeks, dismissing it as the probability of a glitched artifact. But here, in the rotting flesh, was a terrifyingly powerful necromancer bending the knee.
It was real. The madness was actually real.
Gresha and George sat frozen, mouths slightly agape, staring at Vex as if he had just sprouted a second, uglier head.
“Must I repeat myself?” Vex asked softly. A flare of necrotic green fire pulsed in his sockets.
Steve, the massive skeleton construct, slowly swiveled his ribcage toward the stubborn cultists. His heavy bones groaned like the hull of a sinking ship. Beside him, Julia ran a colossal, skeletal finger lovingly across her own vertebrae.
The message was received.
The cultists scrambled. It was a chaotic, desperate procession toward the door. Amadeo was halfway out, dragging Alexander by the collar, before Yona stepped forward.
“The priest stays,” she said. Her voice was firm, though her face lacked its usual color. “He’s with us,” she added, shooting a sharp glance toward Vex.
“Release the vessel,” Vex commanded, not even deigning to look at the cult leader.
Amadeo hesitated. For a split second, greed warred with survival. The priest was a rare find, a pure battery of light. But then Steve cracked his knuckles, a sound like gunshots in a library.
Amadeo released his grip, offered a spasmodic bow, and fled into the corridor.
“Oh, thank the Heavens,” Alexander exhaled, sliding down the wall until he hit the floor. He adjusted his crooked glasses, looking like a man who had survived a dragon attack by hiding in a bush. “I thought I was going to be an ingredient.”
Vex ignored him. He took a seat at the head of the heavy oak table. In an instant, the fiery, terrifying aura of the necromancer vanished, replaced by a smile that was somehow more unsettling. It was the wide, beaming grin of a true believer.
He looked at the ring on Siurad’s finger with pure, unadulterated adoration.
“Tell me… who has the honor of carrying Him?” Vex asked.
Yona stepped in, sensing Siurad was still rebooting his brain. “I am Yona. The puddle of robes in the corner is Alexander, Whitespire's luckiest priest. And the brooding man wearing the jewelry is Siurad.”
“Siurad,” Vex tasted the name. “Tell me. How did you come to possess Kivuli?”
'...I SUMMONED HIM.'
Obi’s voice boomed in Siurad’s mind, loud enough to make him wince physically.
“He can't hear you, Obi,” Siurad muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose to stave off the migraine. He looked at Vex. “He says he summoned me.”
“And you are Hodarian?” Vex asked, tilting his head.
“Chicagoan, actually. I'm not from this world,” Siurad admitted, feeling the heavy coldness of the ring. “I was… imported.”
Vex paused. He looked Siurad up and down, analyzing his soul signature with a hum of necrosis. Then, he nodded slowly, a look of profound admiration dawning on his face.
“As expected of Kivuli. To pull a soul across the realms? Nothing is beyond his grasp.” Vex leaned forward, eager. “But that is the question. I tried to summon him. For a millennia, I tried everything. Blood, souls, void-anchors. Why did nothing work?”
'...I AM NOT SOME COMMON VAGRANT.'
Siurad cleared his throat, deciding to filter the insult for the sake of diplomacy. “He says, uh… the frequency was wrong. Also, Obi says the landscape has changed. He wants to return to his home, but he's not sure how. He keeps talking about the Fulani Mountains.”
“They have stripped the names from our homeland. They have tried to erase our history. We come from… It used to be Zuria, a continent to the West,” Vex explained, waving a hand dismissively. “Considered a dead zone these days. Now they call it the dead land, I wouldn't advise going there. Not yet. You’re no Xara. If I couldn't breach the outer walls, you certainly can't. But… with Kivuli back? Perhaps.”
'...ASK HIM WHY THEY BETRAYED ME .'
The ring chilled him to the bone. Siurad could feel Obi’s agitation spiking, a needle of ice in his brain.
“He wants to know why Xara betrayed him,” Siurad relayed.
Vex blinked. The fanboy smile dropped. “Betrayed? Xara? Impossible. Her loyalty to the System was absolute.”
'...LIES.'
Obi pulsed violently. The temperature in the room plummeted. Vex sensed the shift in pressure, the crushing weight of the Void, and winced, rubbing his own chest as if his dead heart had skipped a beat.
“I was not there to witness what happened… However, the… the teleportation,” Vex stammered, changing the subject. “It scattered us. Most are gone. I heard rumors that Archibald was in Bunzirheora three centuries ago. And Aman… well, Aman has been dealing with things in his own way. Barbaric ways. We thought it safer to stay separated. But now…”
Vex’s confidence returned, his eyes glowing. “Now that the Authority is back, we must rebuild.”
'...THE MOLLUSK SURVIVED?'
Obi sounded dumbfounded.
'...THE BUTCHER LIVES?'
Siurad froze. “Wait… hold up. The mollusk was real?” He looked at the ring, then at Vex. “You mean the snail? The ‘Archibald’ he compares me to every time I do something stupid?”
“Archibald is the greatest mind second to only Lysander,” Vex said reverently. “Though… yes. He is a giant snail. He has gotten eccentric in his old age. From what I hear, he has been constructing something massive deep in the river systems of Bunzirheora.”
Siurad stared at the wall. I am literally being shamed because I’m not as smart as a snail.
Vex’s face darkened, the shadows in the room lengthening. “The last three hundred years have been a nightmare. That idiot Nethyua started a war. He was defeated, but since then, the Silent Order has been combing every dungeon and lair in existence. We have been hunted like rats.”
'...SILENT ORDER?'
“He wants to know who the Silent Order is,” Siurad said.
“Wait, they are real?” Yona asked, her mercenary instincts kicking in. “I thought they were something conspiracy nuts made up to scare children.”
“Even the Church does not explicitly acknowledge them,” Alexander added nervously.
Vex stood up. The chair scraped violently against the stone. The green fire in his eyes flared into an inferno.
“THEY ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE UNITED FRONT!” Vex roared. His voice wasn't human anymore; it was the sound of a crypt grinding open. “COWARDLY RODENTS! THEY WOULD NOT DIE WITH HONOR, SO THEY HID IN THE SHADOWS AND REWROTE HISTORY! THEY COMPLETELY ERASED—”
Vex slammed his fist onto the table. The thick wood cracked down the center.
“THEY WILL BE PURGED! AND ALL WHO COLLABORATE WITH THEM WILL BURN TO ASH!”
Steve and Julia nodded in perfect, terrifying unison.
The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees instantly. Moisture from their breath crystallized in the air. Dark tendrils erupted from the ring, a light show of shadow and violet intertwining with Vex’s green necrosis.
'...THEY WILL KNOW CORRECTION.'
It was a bubbling rage Siurad could feel in his very marrow.
“They will know the Authority,” Vex agreed solemnly.
The tension was thick enough to choke on. Yona cleared her throat, stepping forward to break the mood before Vex decided to burn the whole building down out of spite.
“So. World domination. Very exciting,” she said dryly. “But what's with the zoo? Specifically the dog-wolf thing in the rune containment?”
Vex blinked, the rage slowly receding as he looked at her. “The experiments? Everything in there was a catalyst to try and summon Kivuli. The wolf was a special case—attuned to the Void. Failed attempt. I have no need for them anymore. I will have them incinerated in the morning.”
“Siurad wants the dog,” Yona lied smoothly, thumbing toward her companion.
“I do?” Siurad asked.
Yona kicked his shin. Hard.
“I do,” Siurad corrected, wincing and grabbing his leg. “Big fan of dogs. Huge.”
Vex looked between them, then shrugged. “Very well. A gift for the Heir. I shall have him freed. Now… I must attend to these idiots outside before they ruin my operations.”
He turned to the skeletons. “Steve, Julia. Tend to them while I settle the skin-bags.”
Vex smiled one last time. It was a grotesque expression, skin stretching too tight over bone, but it was genuine. “I will prepare a feast. Just like the old days.”
With a swirl of robes, Vex exited the room, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. The silence returned, but this time it was simply awkward.
Siurad and Yona looked at Alexander.
“You okay, Saint? Told ya you'd be just fine,” Yona said with a grin, the tension draining from her shoulders.
Alexander straightened his robes, trying to regain a shred of dignity. “It was actually quite nice, I must admit,” he lied, his voice trembling slightly. “You know, besides all the sacrificial implications.”
“Right. Let's go get this doggo before Skeletor changes his mind,” Yona said, turning toward Julia.
Julia looked at Steve. The two massive constructs shared a silent, clacking nod, then gestured with long, bony fingers for the group to follow.
'...THEY HAVE COME SO FAR.'
Siurad followed the skeletons, rubbing the ring absently.
'...BEAUTIFUL.'
“Sure thing, Obi,” Siurad whispered. “Sure thing.”