The Inquisitor moved with a fluidity that defied anatomy. Its liquid-silver body didn't run; it flowed, surging forward like a tidal wave of mercury. The blade that had formed from its arm slashed down, aiming to split Vane from shoulder to hip.
Vane caught the blow on his Void-Steel sword.
CLANG.
The sound was deafening. Sparks of white-hot magic showered the Persian rug. Vane gritted his teeth, his boots sliding backward on the floorboards as he struggled against the Inquisitor's inhuman strength.
"Elian, back!" Vane roared, shoving Elian toward the fireplace with a pulse of shadow magic.
"There are three of them!" Elian shouted, scrambling over an overturned chair. Two more silver figures were pouring through the shattered front doors, their faceless heads turning in unison toward Lord Corin.
"Target acquired," the lead Inquisitor droned, its voice a horrific, multi-layered harmonic. "The traitor Corin. Terminate."
One of the reinforcements lunged for the old man.
Corin didn't flinch. He sat in his chair, his blind eyes wide, gripping his cane.
"You think you can terminate the Truth?" Corin wheezed. He slammed his cane onto the floor.
A shockwave of invisible force rippled out from the old Captain. It wasn't elemental magic; it was a kinetic blast, born of pure will. It hit the lunging Inquisitor mid-air, blasting it backward into the wall. The silver metal splattered against the plaster like thrown paint, but instantly began to pool and reform.
"They don't die!" Elian yelled, raising his uninjured hand. "They just put themselves back together!"
"They are alchemical constructs!" Vane shouted, parrying another strike and severing the Inquisitor's arm. The severed limb dissolved into a puddle and slithered back to the main body. "Physical damage is useless! We need extreme heat or extreme cold!"
"Heat I can do!" Elian stepped forward, the hum in his chest roaring to life.
He didn't bother with a beam this time. He imagined a wall of fire. He thrust his hands out, screaming as he pushed the magic through his exhaustion.
A wave of golden solar fire rolled across the room. It engulfed the two Inquisitors nearest the door. The silver metal hissed and bubbled, turning a dull, angry red. The constructs shrieked—a sound like grinding gears—as their forms lost cohesion, melting into slag that couldn't reform.
"Good!" Vane shouted. "Keep them back!"
But the third Inquisitor—the one Vane was fighting—slipped past the fire. It feinted, turning its body into a puddle to slide under Vane's guard, then reforming instantly behind him.
It raised a spike of silver, aiming for Vane's exposed neck.
"Vane!" Elian scrambled to redirect his aim, but he was too slow.
A shadow moved faster than light.
Lord Corin threw himself out of his chair. For a blind old man, he moved with the desperate speed of a soldier protecting his commander. He tackled Vane, knocking him sideways.
The silver spike missed Vane.
It pierced Corin's chest.
The sound was wet and terrible. Vane hit the floor, rolling and coming up in a crouch. He saw the spike protruding from Corin's back.
"NO!" Vane roared. The shadows in the room responded to his grief. They exploded outward, turning into solid obsidian spikes that impaled the Inquisitor from every angle, pinning it to the ceiling like a chaotic pincushion.
Vane scrambled to Corin's side. The old man was gasping, pink froth bubbling at his lips. The silver metal was already spreading through his veins like a poison, turning his skin grey.
"Corin," Vane choked out, pressing his hands over the wound, trying to staunch the flow. "Hold on. Elian! Heal him!"
Elian dropped to his knees beside them, his hands glowing with golden light. He reached for Corin's chest.
Corin's hand—cold and trembling—shot up and grabbed Elian's wrist.
"No," Corin wheezed, blood coating his teeth. "Save... the magic. You need it... for the Queen."
"I can fix this," Elian cried, tears blurring his vision. "Just let me—"
"Truth," Corin whispered, his blind eyes staring at the ceiling. "I am dead, boy. I can feel the cold."
The silver poison had reached his neck. His voice was becoming metallic.
"Go," Corin commanded, looking at Vane. "Take the key. Take the ship. My estate... is rigged."
Vane froze. "Rigged?"
"A final... truth," Corin smiled weakly. "If I die... the wards collapse. The manor... implodes."
The floor beneath them began to vibrate. A low, ominous hum built in the walls. The magic holding the floating estate together was unraveling.
"Thirty seconds," Corin gasped. "Run... my King."
His hand slipped from Elian's wrist. His chest stopped moving.
Vane stared at his old mentor for a heartbeat—a heartbeat that held a lifetime of regret. Then, the mask slammed back into place.
"We have to go," Vane said, his voice hollow.
He grabbed Elian's arm, hauling him up. Elian stumbled, looking back at the body of the man who had validated his existence for the first time in twenty years.
"We can't leave him!" Elian sobbed.
"He bought us time!" Vane shouted, dragging Elian toward the shattered French doors leading to the terrace. "Don't waste it!"
They sprinted out onto the balcony. The wind whipped at their clothes. Behind them, the manor groaned. Cracks appeared in the masonry, glowing with unstable blue light.
"The gondola is too slow," Vane hissed, looking at the automated boat still docked at the pier. "The explosion will catch it."
He looked over the edge of the railing. Below them, a thousand feet down, was the cloud layer. And beneath that, the dark, churning waters of the Starless Sea.
"Do you trust me?" Vane asked, grabbing Elian's waist.
"You asked me that before you cut my throat," Elian yelled over the wind. "I'm starting to regret saying yes!"
"Say yes again!"
"Yes!"
Vane jumped.
He didn't jump down. He jumped out. As they fell into the open air, Vane threw his hand upward.
"Shadow-Walk!"
The darkness beneath the balcony surged upward, catching them. It wasn't a soft landing; it was a slide. Vane created a ramp of solid shadow that spiraled down through the air, a dark slide cutting through the sky.
They slid down the construct at breakneck speed, the wind tearing at their eyes. Above them, Corin's estate detonated.
A sphere of blue energy imploded, silently crumpling the mansion into a ball of debris before exploding outward. The shockwave hit them, knocking them off the shadow-slide.
They were free-falling for the last fifty feet.
"Brace!" Vane shouted.
They hit the water.
It was like hitting concrete. The cold paralyzed Elian instantly. He sank into the dark, salty water, the air punched from his lungs.
Up, his mind screamed. Swim up.
A hand grabbed the back of his velvet tunic. Vane hauled him to the surface.
Elian broke the water, gasping and coughing. They were bobbing in the harbor of the Gilded Cage district. The water was black, reflecting the burning debris falling from the sky like a meteor shower.
"Swim," Vane ordered, spitting saltwater. "The private docks are there. The Nightshade."
They swam toward a secluded pier hidden behind a sea-wall. There, rocking gently in the chaotic waves caused by the explosion, was a ship.
It was sleek, painted matte black, with sails that looked like woven shadow. It didn't look like a merchant vessel; it looked like a knife meant to cut the sea.
They dragged themselves onto the wooden dock, dripping wet and shivering. Vane didn't stop to rest. He fumbled for the iron key Corin had given him.
He ran to the gangplank, unlocked the magical barrier, and shoved Elian onto the deck.
"Get below!" Vane shouted, running for the helm. "I need to release the moorings!"
Elian stumbled onto the deck of the Nightshade. He looked back at the sky. High above, where Corin's house had been, there was only a cloud of dust and fading blue light.
He wiped the saltwater from his eyes. It mixed with his tears.
"I will burn her," Elian whispered to the wind. "For this, Valeriana, I will burn you to ash."
The ship's engine—a mag-drive humming with potential—roared to life as Vane engaged the crystals. The Nightshade lurched forward, tearing away from the dock just as the Royal Guard sirens began to wail in the distance.
They were fugitives now. The sea was their only road, and the Obsidian Isles their only hope.