tendrils of green flame licking through his fingers, each wailing in pain as he held them aloft with an unholy roar of triumph.
'The circle of skulls… the nine souls,' she whispered.
The words felt suddenly closer, more intimate, as she felt the last of the spell fade from her control. She slumped into her body, wincing at the aches and pains that greeted her upon return. Her eyes felt heavy and ponderous, blinking with lids that seemed alien to her. She flexed her fingers, the final remnants of an emerald flame dissipating from her fingertips, and the inner circle of her ritual fell quiet, little more than a smoking stain on the cold, stone floor. Sathariel hung on the air like a puppet, green energy racing through his wings and evaporating slowly, his black-pit eyes still dark.
'The circle of skulls,' she said, eyes widening as the vision hit her all at once. 'How did he find them? Who could have known-?'
The question caught in her throat, and she stared at her hands, the stench of charred stone stinging her nostrils. A shiver ran down her spine.
'I know,' she said breathlessly, trembling and trying to stand. Sathariel's wings twitched and his body shook as she nudged a toe close to the edge of the protective outer circle, cursing herself. 'I know where the skulls hid their souls and he could… No!'
She bolted for the door, her body's pain forgotten as unimaginable fear flooded through her, twisting in her gut like a serpent-the potential doom of hundreds weighing heavily on her shoulders. The angel stirred as she passed, his voice growling in her head, unintelligible as he awoke, unharmed by her magic. She opened the door, and the cold lights in Sathariel's eyes glimmered to life.
'Eladrin…' he rumbled hungrily, the word spurring her to greater speed.
She crossed the garden in a few breaths, her heart pounding in her ears as she entered the street. The ground shook as she ran, and a bellowing roar followed her, shattering windows as the angel found his strength. Wood and stone cracked loudly, exploding outward in a shower of debris that skittered along the cobbles at her heels. Quessahn struggled to work a spell, her thoughts slippery and jumbled.
Ahead of her the ahimazzi turned, moaning softly with raised knives as she rushed toward them and choked back the doubt that threatened to paralyze her. She chanted and ran, each action speeding the other, words tumbling across her tongue, shoved out by quick breaths and heart-stopping fear. The dry branches of bare trees clacked and snapped as the angel stormed through the mansion garden, charging after her.
A brief spark of magic tingled around her as she ran headlong toward the curved daggers of the ahimazzi, having no recourse if her spell failed but to be slain by the soulless men and women, taking knowledge of the circle of skulls' souls with her to a bloody end. As the stink of their bodies struck her nose, she forced out the last of the spell, a wave of nausea caused her to stumble forward into a widening pit of swirling shadow.
Plunging into the limitless dark of the spell, a hideous howling followed her as she fell and fell, tumbling into a vast and silent void.
'Sathariel will devour you,' Jinn said, pacing the edge of the ritual circle, his blade hissing as he traced it over and over, watching Rilyana and waiting for just one slip, one misspoken rune to foul the protective barrier and allow him entrance.
'He already has devoured me. He won me over, heart and soul. I was only ten years old when he found me. He was ancient… and beautiful,' Rilyana replied absently, paying him no attention as she focused on her work, preparing the wooden chest and the pedestal it sat upon for the spell's last enchantment.
'He groomed you for this moment. I assume he arranged your adoption? Gave you a good life? And education? All just to get you to this place, to get what he wants and then leave you to die,' Jinn said, trying not to imagine the angel's hands upon an innocent child.
'Perhaps,' she answered. 'But would you not also die for someone you loved?'
'Not like this,' he answered, stopping short as she turned to face him, hands raised. Her bright hazel eyes narrowed as she approached the edge of the circle, and he stepped back, sword drawn back to strike. 'But unless I am mistaken, you do not intend to die at all. Ever, in fact.'
'Enough, deva,' she said coldly. 'Did you know that Sathariel told me to let you live? Back at the Storm's Front, I could have easily made you the puppet of the nine skulls, but Sathariel stopped me. And do you know why?'
Jinn shook his head slowly, watching her every move as she drew closer. The curved blade she killed Tallus with lay discarded next to the wizard's body, but he could feel the magic she might wield against him. He quietly cursed the barrier between them, preparing himself for the worst.
'Choice,' she said, spitting the word with a brief sneer. 'He told me that that there were rules among his kind, ancient laws that even the gods were bound by, and that they required a choice, a balance between this world and theirs.'
'What choice?' Jinn asked. 'Who chooses?'
'It doesn't matter now,' she said with a grin, 'because, unlike him, I am not bound by laws or balance.' Bright energy crackled across her fingertips, arcing down her wrist as she whispered an arcane phrase. 'And I will not give you the chance to hurt him!'
'What-?' Jinn began, mystified, and he leaped to the side as white bolts of electricity flew from her palms. He rolled to the floor, blinded as the stone wall behind him erupted in a shower of sparks. She chanted again and his sword was ripped from his hand and flung to the far comer. Her eyes and fists blazed with red fire.
'Sathariel said I couldn't kill you,' she growled. 'He said it was impossible!'
Jinn swore and covered his head. Unable to strike back or escape, he hoped merely to survive. Heat filled the room and Rilyana screamed. Jinn braced himself for the fire, but it never came. He heard a loud crash followed by a silence broken only by a heavy breathing and the constant hum of the ritual circle. Raising his head cautiously, he saw Rilyana slumped against the wall, groaning and swearing as she tried to stand.
On the stairs, leaning on one elbow, her hand still steaming from a well-placed spell, Quessahn sat, glaring at the human. Teeth clenched and grunting in pain, the eladrin stood and brushed her hands off on her robes, muttering angrily.
'Sathariel was right.'
Cold wind whistled through the borrowed ears of the nine skulls. Branches snagged at their clothes, snapped, and fell around them as they landed in a low crouch on damp grass and hard soil. They tore through the garden, boots crunching on deadfall, their nose lifted high, sniffing like an animal. Callak's body was weak, softened by a life of luxury, but their power made it strong, despite its physical limitations. Broken bones shifted in their right leg, and they could feel a torn hamstring worming its way up their right calf, loosed from its moorings.
Several of the nine skulls were amused by the sensation of pain, as with all they had nearly forgotten about the trappings of warm flesh. Pausing alongside the mansion, they grinned and tried to peer within the tall windows of the house, catching a familiar scent, one of family and connection.
'This one,' Effram said as they slid along the wall and pressed their hands against the front doors. 'All of them, I think.'
'Gathered together? A gift or a ruse?' Graius asked.
The others, desperate and feeling time slip from their grasp, pressed Callak's hands against the hard wood, the oak feeling soft and pliable to their collected strength. They pushed. 'Whatever it is, let us be quiet, swift, and watchful,' he said as the door began to buckle. 'Above all, be swift. If we hadn't written this last possession into the ritual, Tallus would have abandoned us completely. I doubt he will waste time waiting for us.'
'Fortunately he is more buffoon than wizard,' Graius added. 'But be aware, the deva's witches are unaccounted for, and at least one of them has some real power.'
'Duly noted,' Effram said as the doors gave way, ripping away from their hinges and splitting like soft pine.
They prowled, well hidden in the dark by the shroud of shadow that clung to Callak's body, appearing as little more than a pair of emerald flames, floating through hallways and empty chambers. The scent grew stronger, smelling of fearful children and hushed breaths, puffing in time with fluttering hearts. An aura of heat drew them to a large drawing room.
A chorus of quiet whimpers greeted the skulls as they slunk forward, drawn by the stink of primal fear and…
