"How many?" Markus asked. His voice was barely a whisper.
His hands began to shake.
"Kaelen." Rin's voice was soft. "Kaelen, we need to keep moving."
He did not move.
The anger came up from somewhere deep, somewhere he had been keeping it locked away. It was not hot. It was cold. It was the cold of the deep ocean, the cold of space, the cold of a man who had seen too much and was finally, finally at the end of his ability to contain it.
"Human greed," he said. His voice was flat. "It is never satisfied. You give them a village. They want a city. You give them a city. They want a kingdom. You give them a kingdom. They want the world. And when they have the world, they want the next one."
"The cult uses them for rituals," Twist said. The goat's voice was quiet probably sensing his mood. "Blood, fear, pain. The younger the vessel, the stronger the mana. Children are...."
Kaelen turned away from the cells.
"Markus," he said.
"Yes."
