"What have you done to Horrace?" I took a step forward, careful to avoid the warded sections of floor.
"Nothing yet," she smiled, the expression never reaching her glowing eyes. "His inter-dimensional nature makes him the perfect key to unlock the Veil. Just as your prophetic energy makes you the perfect vessel to channel it."
The spiral mark on my side pulsed painfully, as if responding to her words. "You're using me," I realized. "The mark. It's connecting me to whatever ritual you're performing."
"Very good," she nodded approvingly. "The spiral is indeed a conduit, allowing us to draw on your unique energy even at a distance. Every surge strengthens our work."
"What work?" Zane hands already glowed with combat magic. "What are you trying to do?"
The Voice turned her eerie gaze to him. "We are restoring balance. The natural order has been disrupted by wildprophecies and unchecked fate manipulation. The Harbingers seek to reestablish control."
"By tearing open the Veil?" Milo's pale face was determined. "That's not balance. That's destruction."
"Sometimes the old must be destroyed for the new to emerge," her voice serene. "The Veil has grown thin, corrupted by chaotic elements like your friend here." She gestured to Horrace, who trilled angrily in response. "We will tear it down completely and rebuild it stronger, purer."
"With you in control," I finished for her. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? Power."
Something flickered across her face, a momentary crack in her calm mask. "The Harbingers have guided fate for millennia. They are its rightful architects. Your prophecy, this wild, ungoverned thing, threatens everything they've built."
As she spoke, Horrace's prison began to pulse more rapidly, the energy crackling around him intensifying. He made a high, distressed sound that pierced my heart.
"You're hurting him!" I took another step forward, the blue markings on my arm brightening with my rage.
"His discomfort is temporary," the Voice assured me. "Soon, he will fulfill his purpose, as will you."
"I'm not fulfilling anything for you," I snarled, the prophetic energy building within me like a storm. "Let him go. Now."
The Voice smiled again, this time with genuine amusement. "You misunderstand, Chalice-Bearer. You're already fulfilling your role. Every surge of emotion, every flare of prophetic energy, it all feeds the spiral, which feeds our ritual."
Horror dawned as I realized she was right. The markings on my arm were glowing brightly with my anger, and the spiral on my side pulsed in response, drawing on that power.
"Winter," Fenric's voice was low, urgent. "She's baiting you. Control your emotions."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage building inside me. But seeing Horrace trapped, suffering, made it nearly impossible.
"That's it," the Voice encouraged. "Fight it. Resist. The struggle only makes the energy flow stronger."
She was right. The more I tried to suppress my emotions, the more they seemed to feed into the spiral mark. It was a perfect trap, designed to harvest my power whether I embraced my feelings or fought them.
"Enough talk," Rook growled, his features beginning to shift as he called on his wolf. "We're taking Horrace and the skeletons and leaving."
The Voice made a dismissive gesture, and a wave of force slammed into Rook, sending him flying backward into the wall. "The ritual is already in progress. Interference will not be tolerated."
Zane moved next, launching a barrage of fae magic at the woman. She deflected it with contemptuous ease, redirecting the energy into the floor where it was absorbed by the wards.
"Your parlor tricks cannot touch me," she chuckled. "I am channeling the power of the Harbingers themselves."
While she was focused on Zane, Milo had been quietly working a necromantic spell. Ghostly blue energy flowed from his fingertips, seeping into the floor and traveling toward Horrace's prison.
The Voice noticed too late. Milo's magic reached the energy sphere, disrupting its pattern for a crucial moment. Horrace immediately seized the opportunity, all twelve of his eyes focusing intently on the weakened section. One of his tentacles punched through, followed quickly by another. Milo's skeletons pounded on the section trying to help Horrace.
"No!" The Voice cried, her mask finally cracking. "Stop him!"
Cultists poured into the chamber from hidden alcoves, their hands already glowing with combat magic. Rook recovered from his impact with the wall and launched himself at the nearest group, his transformation complete now, claws and fangs tearing through robes and flesh.
Zane engaged another cluster, his fae magic more effective against the lesser cultists than it had been against their leader. Fenric, surprisingly, proved equally formidable, his bureaucratic demeanor giving way to precise, devastating spellwork that dropped cultists where they stood.
I used the chaos to make my way toward Horrace, dodging energy bolts and avoiding the warded sections of floor. His prison was weakening, more tentacles pushing through the barrier, but he couldn't break free entirely.
