The fire wrapped around , dragging through shadow and stone until I stepped back into the penthouse apartnt. The card ga was over.
Kevin stood by the window, robe pulled tight, staring at the church through a slit in the curtains. Vivianne perched on the sofa arm, her borrowed spymaster’s cloak pooled around her, her shoulders tighter than before.
Jayden was still on the bed, one hand resting on his sword hilt, and his eyes found mine the instant I appeared.
The second I fully materialized, everyone in the room shuddered. The air turned heavy, pressing down on us the way the archmage’s presence had in the library.
Kevin went down first.
His knees gave out, hitting the floor hard enough to rattle the boards. He looked up at , wide-eyed and disbelieving, both hands braced on the ground to keep himself from collapsing.
"M-Master...?"
Vivianne turned next, her body stiff as she fought against the weight—sothing that had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with the three thousand souls wound around mine.
"Did you get stronger?" she asked, her voice strained, almost reverent. "It’s like... it’s like you’re as strong as the archmage...!"
The penthouse groaned.
Not taphorically. The walls creaked. The floorboards bowed under my feet. Sowhere in the distance, a window cracked. The weight of three thousand souls pressed against reality itself, and I hadn’t even done anything yet.
I pulled it back.
Slowly, carefully, I reined in the restless dead, quieting their whispers, smothering their hunger. The shadows at my feet curled back around my ankles like chastened dogs. The air grew lighter. The walls fell silent.
Three thousand souls... even under my contract, they were still leaking power.
I really had underestimated what that number ant.
"Sorry," I said. "I was a little... occupied."
Kevin slumped forward and caught himself on his hands, breathing in ragged pulls.
"What... what was that?"
"An upgrade." I walked to the window, my footsteps too loud in the sudden quiet. "The church has been busy. Very busy."
"Busy how?" Vivianne pushed herself off the sofa arm, her legs unsteady.
"Bodies. Thousands of them. Stacked beneath Nyx’s cathedral like cordwood."
Jayden’s grip tightened on his sword hilt until his knuckles turned white. He looked like he already knew exactly what I ant.
"Bodies...?"
He trembled, staring at his hands as if he could already see the blood on them. Honestly, he probably could.
"Wait... what does that have to do with anything?" Kevin asked.
"Let’s just say I get stronger where there are more souls."
A heavy silence settled over the penthouse. Kevin’s breathing eventually steadied, but the wariness in his eyes remained. Vivianne braced a hand against the windowsill, her knuckles pale.
Jayden hadn’t moved from the bed, but he’d finally let go of his sword. Faint indentations marked the leather where his fingers had been.
"Bodies," he repeated hollowly. "How many?"
"Nearly four thousand." I didn’t soften it. "Preserved. Drained. Laid out in rows beneath the cathedral like offerings."
"Four thousand," Vivianne whispered. "That’s..."
"That’s what the church considers acceptable losses," I finished.
Kevin pushed himself upright, swaying once before he found his balance. His robe had fallen open, showing the plain tunic underneath, and sweat had plastered his dark hair to his forehead.
"You claid them?" he asked. "All of them? Their souls?"
"Is that a problem?"
He held my gaze for a long mont, then shook his head and gave a faint smile.
"No. They’re already dead. And if this gives us a better chance..." He glanced toward the church beyond the window. "We need every advantage we can get. Besides... it’s not like I got this purple magic of mine innocently."
"I think I’m the only one here with clean hands," Vivianne said.
"Not for long," Jayden replied.
***
"Marcellus, is it just , or are there fewer pilgrims now?"
Julius glanced around the plaza, only now realizing it felt more open than before. It still wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was easier to breathe.
"What do you an...?"
"Look around. It feels like the crowd got cut in half..."
Marcellus blinked and let his gaze travel from the church spires to the plaza below. The crowds really were thinner now. Not enough for anyone inattentive to notice right away, but the difference was there.
Fewer children weaving between the stalls. Fewer elderly couples making their slow way toward the stairs. Fewer families walking arm in arm, singing hymns that bounced off the ancient stone.
"You’re right, what—?"
"Calm down, Marcellus."
Evelina spoke from behind him before he could make a scene.
"I heard you were hesitating, so Lillian and I decided to do sothing to ease your mind."
"You an...?"
"We evacuated so people."
The plaza seed to pause. Marcellus turned slowly, his golden hair catching the gray light, his expression caught between relief and disbelief.
"You evacuated... so people?"
"Several thousand, last I checked." Evelina sounded almost bored, as if moving thousands of civilians was just another errand. "Lillian’s family warehouses are quite spacious. And the golems are efficient."
Julius grabbed Marcellus’s shoulder and squeezed. "Brother. Focus."
"Several thousand," Marcellus repeated. His eyes drifted over the thinner crowd, the empty patches where families had stood, the rchants packing up stalls with nothing left to sell. "How?"
"Does it matter?" Evelina tilted her head, white hair sliding over her shoulder. "You wanted fewer casualties. We gave you fewer casualties. Be grateful and give the signal."
"The signal—"
"The ritual starts soon. You can see the priests gathering at the top of the stairs. If we wait much longer, we lose the elent of surprise."
Marcellus looked up at the church.
The priests were gathering exactly where she said, their gold robes bright against the gray stone, their voices lifted in hymns that drifted down the steps like smoke. Behind them, the great doors stood open, revealing shadows that seed to breathe.
Thousands of pilgrims still stread through them.
Thousands more were waiting.
And sowhere inside, the High Council was preparing to commit mass murder.
Marcellus slipped a hand into his coat and drew out the small brass cylinder. The flare. The signal that would turn this festival into a slaughter.
His hand shook.
"Cael is ready," Evelina said more quietly. "Jayden is with him. The mont you give the signal, they’ll move exactly like we planned, along with the others."
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