The natural duct gradually widened, forming a gallery with walls of raw crystal. The light from the mana stones Elias had taken from his pocket danced across the facets, casting shifting shadows that resembled faces.
Veridia walked at the front, her tattered emerald cloak floating behind her like a wounded wing. Her step was sure, despite the burn eating away at her sternum. At times, she raised her hand, and the whole group froze, holding their breath. Then she moved on, without a word.
"She really knows this place," Elias murmured to Lyall.
"The question," Lyall replied quietly, "is why she's helping us."
"Guilt, perhaps. Or revenge."
"Both," Elara interjected. "I was still reading intentions when she joined us. Her hatred for Vane is stronger than her fear of death."
Lyra, walking just behind, made a strange sound.
"Hatred consumes. Like the Void."
"You would know?" Elara asked.
"I hated myself, before. For what I had become. Then I met Elias. And you. The hatred didn't disappear, but it changed targets."
"That's something," Elara said.
After an hour, the gallery opened into a vast natural dome. At its center lay a pool of still water, perfectly clear. The water came from somewhere beneath the mountain, charged with raw mana it glowed with a bluish light, almost painful to look at.
"The Vestals' Bath," Veridia said, stopping. "The palace guardians used to purify themselves here before ceremonies."
"It's beautiful," Mira whispered.
"It was beautiful," Veridia corrected. "Now it's just a puddle in a cave. Like everything else."
She sat on a rock, suddenly exhausted. Her hand pressed against her chest, where the mana necrosis glowed beneath her robe.
"We can stop for a few minutes," Elara suggested.
"We don't have time," Veridia replied. "But I no longer have the strength to continue without catching my breath."
Lyall approached her.
"Why you?" he asked. "Why did Vane spare you at first, and why did he try to kill you afterwards?"
Veridia raised her tired eyes to him.
"Because I was useful at first. I controlled the Power faction. I delivered Veiled Ones to him for his experiments. In exchange, he gave me stones, information, privileges."
"And then?"
"Then I saw what he did to the prisoners. He didn't just drain them. He stole their identity. Their will. He turned them into empty shells."
Her voice broke.
"I recognized one of my former students. Her name was Sera. She was seventeen. She didn't even know her own name anymore. Vane offered her to me as a 'servant.' He was smiling."
"What did you do?" Elara asked, her voice icy.
"I killed her. To stop her suffering. And I told Vane I didn't want any more of his 'gifts.' He smiled again. And the next day, his blade found my chest."
She parted her robe. The wound was infected, threaded with black filaments that throbbed like worms.
"He wanted me to die slowly. So the other Veiled Ones would see what happens to traitors."
"Then you'll help him die faster," Lyra said.
"Faster and dirtier," Veridia added with a grimace.
Elias crouched beside her, examining the wound with his precognitive eyes.
"You have only a few days left. Perhaps a week. The necrosis will reach your heart by then."
"I know. That's why I want to be there when he falls."
Lyall turned away. He had hated this woman. He had nearly died because of her. And now he pitied her.
"Let's rest for an hour," he said. "Then we attack the Vestals' passage."
During the break, Elara sat down near Mira. The girl was drawing on the dusty floor with a piece of charcoal abstract shapes, spirals, shadows.
"You draw well," Elara said.
"My father taught me. He said drawing was like fighting. You had to anticipate the movement."
"He was right."
Mira looked up at her.
"Are you going to die too?"
Elara hesitated.
"Maybe. But not today, I hope."
"My father died so you could live. So you have to live. It's like a promise."
"A promise," Elara repeated. "Yes. It's a promise."
She took the child's hand.
"I'll do my best."
Lyra, watching the scene from a distance, felt her shadows tremble. The Void inside her reacted to the emotion not to devour, but to… listen. It was new.
Elias came to stand beside her.
"You're changing," he said.
"Maybe."
"That's good."
She didn't answer, but her face softened.
The hour passed. Veridia stood first, her face even paler than before, but her gaze hard.
"Let's go. The Vestals' passage is this way."
She led them to a crack in the dome's wall, hidden by a curtain of calcite formations. Behind it, a staircase carved into the rock descended in a spiral.
"It's narrow," Lyall said. "Mira, stay close to me."
The girl nodded.
They descended. Each step brought them closer to the Palace, to the Heart, to Vane. The air grew warmer, saturated with the smell of heated copper and raw mana.
After twenty minutes, the staircase ended at a massive bronze door, engraved with the Veiled Ones' symbol a wind spiral.
"Behind this door," Veridia whispered, "is the Vestals' chamber. There are about a dozen of them, all equipped with Lumenarc stones. They can read your intentions, your fears."
"So how do we get through?" Elias asked.
"You let me handle it. I know the ritual. I'll tell them you're prisoners destined for the Heart."
"And they'll believe you?" Elara worried.
"They still fear me. Even wounded, even dying, I remain the superior who trained them."
She adjusted her cloak.
"Above all, don't speak. Don't look them in the eyes. And if one of them touches you… pray."
"Lovely prospect," Lyra grumbled.
Veridia knocked three times on the door. A wicket opened, revealing a wary eye.
"Who goes there?"
"Mother Veridia," she replied in a strong voice. "I bring offerings for the Heart."
The wicket closed. The door groaned, then opened.
The Vestals' chamber was a rotunda of white marble, lit by Solis stones suspended from the ceiling. Twelve women in grey robes, their faces hidden behind gauze veils, stood in a circle.
Their leader, a Vestal with a deep voice, stepped forward.
"Mother Veridia. We thought you dead."
"Death will have to wait," Veridia replied. "Vane needs these subjects for the transfer. I am bringing them."
The Vestal examined the group. Her eyes lingered on Lyall, on Elara, on Mira.
"A child?"
"The Heart makes no distinction."
A long silence. Then the Vestal stepped aside.
"Pass."
They crossed the rotunda, holding their breath. Lyall felt the stares weighing on him, like invisible hands. But no one moved.
On the other side, a corridor descended into the depths. Veridia signaled them to hurry.
"You were lucky," she murmured. "They were on purification duty. Their gift is dulled by prayers."
"We owe that to you," Elara said.
"Don't thank me. I don't deserve gratitude."
She gritted her teeth, a spasm of pain crossing her face.
"Hurry. The Heart is not far now."
They plunged into the corridor, toward the growing light, toward the Archon's death rattle, toward Vane.