“Ah, there she is.”
At the edge of the dome, a shadow appeared in the settling dust. The red light parted around them, a short, sturdy-framed woman joining us under the stranger’s protection. Under one arm, she carried a strange wooden frame. Under the other, a large tome bound in acidic green leather.
“Wonderful work, Reina. A smashing success.”
“Aye, Sleeper,” the woman replied, approaching us with a wariness that I didn’t understand. “Are you ready to leave this place?”
Sleeper. The name broke through the haze in my mind, bringing with it the memories of the fantastical story told to us in the basement of a café and crimson red tethers connecting the minds of all who were present.
How in the name of the gods did he end up here?
“I believe we are,” the Sleeper replied, turning to address the rest of us. “Shall you be joining us?”
“It’s unlikely we have another choice,” Azrael replied.
“Splendid. Reina, dear, please go ahead and hand that compendium to our Reviled friend here. Wilhelm will be sure to appreciate its return to the proper place.”
Azrael perked up at that, craning his head to get a better look at the wooden object held by the woman. “Are these from the Church’s vault?”
“Aye,” Reina replied, handing the cumbersome book over to Bastien, who cradled it against him with what appeared to be tears welling in the corners of his eyes.
“This should be the missing puzzle to the solution I gave you when last we spoke, Seeker,” the Sleeper continued, drawing close enough to pat Bastien’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “However, this can all wait till we’re safely away from the current calamity. Reina, if you would be so kind.”
The woman handed the wooden frame over to the Sleeper, and I caught a glimpse of the rows of colorful beads suspended along the wooden dowels. Digging in the pocket of her long coat, the woman produced a small sliver of white chalk. Squatting down, she began to draw on the ground, forming a rectangle. Once the shape was complete, she exhaled, long and slow, the edges of the chalk glowing with power. She then reached down, grabbed a knob invisible to my eye, and turned it, a slab of the floor rising into the shape of a door. The opening was completely pitch dark, but the Sleeper was the first to approach the edge of the opening, stepping one foot down into the darkness, then stopping to turn back towards us.
“Follow or remain. I’ll leave the choice to you.”
Bastien and Azrael exchanged glances.
I wanted to voice my concerns, but the edges of my vision were darkening again. It was getting more difficult to hold my eyes open with every too-slow beat of my heart. My fate would be in the hands of others, and while that should bring its own trepidation, I knew that I was in good hands.
The last thing I remembered was the sound of footsteps on wooden stairs, then nothing but crushing silence.
Pain returned with as much fanfare as my body could muster. It roused me from my slumber like a vindictive guardian, waking their adolescent progeny—with violent delight.
It radiated from three points on my body, and through the aching haze, I was able to recall the wounds that originated the agony. Sanguine wounds. Just one could prove fatal for any Magi without treatment, and I had suffered three at the hands of the Umbral. By all accounts, I should have already been dead. Yet, the pain was there to prove that this was not the case.
My eyes fluttered open, blinking away stinging grit. Dim light was there to greet me, three shadows moving in the periphery, though I couldn’t quite make out their details. I jolted once more at the touch of a hand on my shoulder, a groan pouring over my lips as they prodded at the wound.
“This is the oldest. We’ll begin here. Would you be so kind as to hold him down? I cannot afford the luxury of being delicate if he’s to survive.”
More hands on my body, but these felt familiar. Bastien. And Azrael, too. The first by my head, the other holding my ankles. It was a comfort to know that they were at my side. Whatever was to come, I could bear it.
“Cirian, if you can hear me,” the voice of the Sleeper came again. “I need you to remain still as I cleanse your wounds. Can you do that for me?”
I was too weak to nod, so I blinked instead.
“Good lad. I’m going to start on the first.”
Searing heat set the flesh of my shoulder ablaze, and I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped through my chest. My limbsthrashed till Bastien and Azrael subdue them, and even then, they strained against their hold.
The pain was blinding, bright flashes of white popping into my vision as the Sleeper worked over the wound, each second of anguish pushing me closer and closer to begging for an end. Time lost all purpose, and I knew not whether it was minutes or days that I writhed against their hold.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Bastien’s voice carried over my broken whimpers.
“Have you ever cleansed a Sanguine wound, Bastien?”
“No. But the Cardinal saved me from one. She healed it in seconds.”
