The outpost shook again. This time, the impacts were closer. Lyall felt the copper vibrate beneath his soles, and the Teral against his chest began to pulse like a second heart.
"They're here," Elias murmured, eyes closed. "Six… no, eight. They're encircling the north exit."
"How do you know?" Lyra asked, her voice taut.
"Because I just saw the second they'll open fire. In about forty-five seconds."
Elara drew her Solis stone. The gem emitted a golden glow but flickered as if Elara's gift struggled to pierce the mana fog surrounding the outpost.
"I can't sense anything," she said with frustration. "The Tomb of Ether's stasis field is jamming my readings."
"Then we do it the old way," Lyall replied. "By instinct."
He turned to the Waltzer, still shackled by his Khaos collar. The aelith assassin stood motionless, his eyes darting from Lyra to Elias, as if assessing his chances of survival.
"You want to save your daughter?" Lyall said. "Then help us get out of here."
"I can't fight with this around my neck," the Waltzer replied, touching the device. "Any attempt to flee, and Vane will know."
Elias stepped closer, examining the collar. His fingers brushed the Khaos stone without touching it.
"It's remotely activated," he said. "As long as you stay within two hundred meters, nothing happens. But if you stray too far… or if Vane decides you're no longer useful…"
"He'll blow me up."
A heavy silence. Then Lyra stepped forward, her shadows scratching the floor.
"I can neutralize the collar. Temporarily. The Void absorbs all energy including Khaos. But it will only last a few minutes. And afterwards, the collar will reactivate even more violently."
"How many minutes?" the Waltzer asked.
"Five. Maybe six."
"Enough to kill a few guards," he said with a predatory smile. "I'll take the risk."
Lyra placed her blackened hand on the collar. Opaque smoke rose from it, and the Khaos stone emitted a sharp hiss. Then it went dark, provisionally.
"It's done. The countdown has started."
The Waltzer stood up, his aerostats crackling on his shoulders. He drew two curved blades, so thin they seemed carved from moonlight.
"Follow me. And try not to die."
They exited the outpost through a breach in the glass wall. The outer platform overlooked the Hanging Gardens from over a hundred meters. Below, armed silhouettes were climbing the scaffolding.
The Waltzer didn't waste time observing. He jumped.
Lyall watched his body lighten under the aerone's effect, spinning through the air like a metal leaf. He landed in the middle of the first group of guards, blades swirling in circular movements. The "Waltzer" style, that deadly dance, unfurled in all its grace. Within five seconds, three guards were down.
"He's efficient," Elias admitted, drawing his own temporal blade.
Lyall activated his Teral. He didn't need to touch the enemies – he projected a zone of heaviness around the eastern railing. The guards trying to flank them collapsed, crushed by sudden gravity.
Lyra slid between shadows, her smoke fingers silently strangling a sniper stationed on a walkway. Elara, lacking offensive gifts, stayed back, her dagger ready to parry.
The fight lasted less than two minutes. Ten guards lay unconscious or dead. The Waltzer was out of breath, his wounded flank bleeding again.
"There are two left," Elias announced, precognition shimmering in his pupils. "They're hiding in the map room. They're calling for reinforcements."
"Let's go," Lyall said.
They went back inside. The two guards were backed against the stone table, their pressure rifles aimed at the entrance.
"Drop your weapons," Lyall ordered.
One of them, younger, hesitated. The other, a veteran with a hollow stare, pulled the trigger.
The mana projectile shot toward Lyall, but Elias had already seen the trajectory. He dove, deflected the shot with a backhanded parry. Lyra cast a veil of shadow that blinded both men. The Waltzer swept through the black cloud and disarmed the veteran with a sharp strike.
"Who's in command here?" Lyall asked.
The young guard, trembling, pointed to the veteran.
"Him… Sergeant Hark. He coordinates the patrols."
"And where is the Tomb of Ether right now?" Elara asked, her Solis flickering but still active.
Hark spat on the floor.
"I'll tell nothing to traitors of the Empire."
The Waltzer placed his blade under the sergeant's throat.
"You don't understand, Hark. We're not traitors. We're the ones who will save what's left of the Empire. So talk, or I swear your death won't be quick."
Hark broke. He gave the coordinates: the Tomb of Ether was currently stationed above Dragon's Peak, a three-hour march east. He also revealed that Kaelen was kept alive by a stasis field coupled with his own temporal signature if the field fell, Kaelen would die instantly.
Lyall exchanged a look with Elias. That was crucial information.
"Thank you," Lyall said.
He struck Hark on the temple. The man collapsed.
"He'll live," Lyall clarified. "But he won't remember anything for a few hours."
The Waltzer staggered. The Khaos stone around his neck was beginning to hiss again.
"Time's up," Lyra said. "I can't keep it inactive any longer."
"Then let's go," Elias said. "Every minute counts."
They descended the scaffolding in silence, crossing the devastated gardens. The Mother-Plants around them glowed with an agonizing light. Mana was draining away. The Empire was dying.
As they reached the base of the Gardens, the Waltzer stopped abruptly.
"I'll guide you to the Tomb," he said. "But then you must promise me one thing."
"What is it?" Elara asked.
"If I don't come back… my daughter, Mira. She's eight years old. She's hiding in a derelict boat hold, the Weavers' Quarter. Tell her that her father loved her. Even if he didn't know how to show it."
Lyall placed his hand on the assassin's shoulder.
"I'll tell her myself."
The Waltzer nodded, a glimmer of moisture in his eyes.
"Then let's go. We have no more time to waste."
They plunged into the night, heading east. Toward the Tomb of Ether. Toward Kaelen. And toward the sacrifice.